#if you guessed me. well. you would be correct

[multipleoccupancy]

Sloane knew full well what he was potentially walking into with Samantha but he had a plan, he just hoped she would hit some of the cans and so would not get too competitive with him. He overheard as Killian and Violet talked about their winnings and smiled. "We have time for that. Orion and I are going to get some practice in with the crossbow too, just in case." He explained as he oh so gently took the crossbow from Killian's hand. He relinquished it, of course he did, Sloane was taking it from him!

Once he had it in hand he gestured for Samantha to join him with a smile. "Ladies first," he offered as he handed her the crossbow. "I'll just put the cans back up," he explained, not even thinking twice that he would be putting himself in the line of fire if he went to do that, Samantha and Killian had his complete trust as he went to correct the cans. "You two can draw in the meantime?" He suggested, knowing they had time enough to do so.

Theo turned to Samantha, "You'll do great," he told her under his breath, "maybe as good as me." He then added on with quite a brotherly tease, riling her up a little and making sure to side step so he could avoid any playful and competitive kick back from Samantha. Turning his attention to Violet with a smile instead.

"I guess you did better in their eyes," he said as he moved to go and steal some paper from off stage, script rejections and the like. "Guess you're the archer," he wasn't too disappointed he had missed out, having to trust whatever silent message Sloane had given him with the hand on his shoulder. "But Orion is right, you're the ace here." He handed her some paper and a pencil, "We'd best get off the stage to do this, Orion... well, she gets very serious about these things." There was some space in the auditorium at least.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Sloane had a point, these two were naturals. Samantha didn't know if she was a natural, but it wouldn't hurt to try. Besides, she wanted to pick dinner, thank you very much. "Alright, you've got yourself a deal, mister," she indulged with a wink, secretly hoping she was not going to ridicule herself in front of Killian and Violet.

"A crossbow competition is kind of like a board, game, right?" she teased as she stood up and followed him, "so... get ready to eat dirt!" They had mentioned her terrible competitiveness just minutes earlier, and while she was being playful... Sloane probably knew she was not completely joking either.

Violet smiled at Theo, happy that in the end, they would both get a drawing. "If we have time, let's draw them now, yes," she agreed. She didn't know if she would return here after waking up, and would rather give Theo his drawing before that.

Noticing that Sloane and Samantha were walking towards them now, she wondered if they were going to confiscate that crossbow after all. But luckily, Sloane seemed to have made up his mind: she was indeed their archer. "Thank you," she said, blushing.

"You're going to be quite the ace up our sleeves," praised Samantha, "we're lucky to have you in O cell, Odin." Violet beamed, even redder than before. She was blissfully aware that she was about to witness the most terrifying thing in the world: Samantha being competitive.

[wifelivvyx]

Hey! I just saw that your looking for requests and I was wondering if you could do something with James Potter taking care of the reader when she’s sick?

I love nothing more than a good hurt/comfort trope haha (especially with James. He’s such a sweetheart).

THIS!! omgg ofc x

The fire in the Gryffindor common room crackled softly, sending flickering shadows across the walls. The usually bustling space was quiet, as most students were out enjoying the unusually sunny winter afternoon. James Potter, however, was not among them.

Instead, he was standing outside the door to the girls' dormitories, balancing a tray laden with a steaming bowl of soup, a cup of tea, and a small plate of biscuits. His brow furrowed in concentration as he muttered a quiet “Alohomora,” the door clicking open without protest. He hesitated for a moment, as if second-guessing himself, before stepping inside.

The dormitory smelled faintly of lavender and parchment. He found you bundled up in bed, a mountain of blankets nearly swallowing you whole. Your usually bright eyes were dull, your cheeks flushed with fever, and a tissue was clutched loosely in your hand. A small groan escaped your lips as you shifted, clearly uncomfortable.

James’s throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. “Oi, you look… um… awful,” he muttered, his attempt at humor falling flat. He quickly set the tray down on your bedside table and rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Why didn’t you tell someone you were feeling this bad?”

You blinked up at him, your voice hoarse as you replied, “Didn’t want to… bother anyone.”

James huffed, his brows drawing together. “That’s stupid,” he said, though there was no heat in his words. He stepped closer, hesitating before gently pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. His touch lingered a moment too long before he snatched his hand back, his ears tinged pink. “You’ve got a fever,” he muttered, as if you didn’t already know.

“You didn’t have to come up here,” you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, well, someone had to,” he said gruffly, dragging a chair closer to your bed. He plopped down with exaggerated nonchalance, crossing his arms as if to shield himself from any vulnerability. “It’s not like I’d just leave you to rot up here alone. What kind of… mate would I be?”

Despite his words, his gaze softened as he reached for the cup of tea. He blew on it, his brow furrowed in concentration, before holding it out to you. “Drink this. Slowly,” he instructed, his tone awkwardly authoritative.

You took the cup, your fingers brushing his as you did. He pulled his hand back quickly, his eyes darting away. “Thanks, James,” you murmured.

He shrugged, his cheeks reddening. “It’s nothing. Just… part of the Marauder Code. Look after your… mates and all that.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and he cleared his throat, trying to mask his embarrassment.

“You’re awfully bossy,” you teased weakly, managing a small smile.

“I’m… efficient,” he corrected, wagging a finger at you. His attempt at humor earned a quiet laugh from you, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit. James’s expression shifted instantly, his hand hovering uncertainly over your back before he finally placed it there, rubbing gentle circles. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

When the fit subsided, you slumped back against the pillows, exhausted. “Sorry,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t… don’t apologize,” he said, his tone unusually soft. He sat back, fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. “You can… I mean, you don’t have to worry about me or whatever. Just… focus on getting better, yeah?”

James stayed with you long after the tea and soup were finished, fumbling through a textbook and reading aloud in exaggerated voices to make you laugh. His attempts at humor were clumsy but endearing, his genuine effort shining through his embarrassment.

Eventually, as the firelight flickered lower and your exhaustion deepened, you shifted uncomfortably under the mountain of blankets. James noticed immediately, his brow furrowing. “You alright?”

“Just cold,” you mumbled, barely coherent. The fever had left you shivering despite the layers.

James hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as if weighing his options. Then, with a quiet huff, he stood up and began peeling off his jumper, leaving him in his undershirt. Without a word, he slid into the bed beside you, maneuvering carefully so he wouldn’t jostle you too much.

“What are you doing?” you croaked, though you didn’t sound upset—just surprised.

“Warming you up,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “Don’t make it weird.”

Before you could respond, he draped an arm around you, pulling you gently against his chest. His warmth was immediate and soothing, and despite his earlier embarrassment, he held you firmly, his thumb tracing absentminded circles on your shoulder.

“Better?” he asked quietly, his breath stirring your hair.

You nodded against him, too tired to argue. “Yeah. Thanks.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. The sound of his steady heartbeat and the crackling fire lulled you into a peaceful haze. James shifted slightly, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Don’t tell Sirius about this,” he muttered, half-joking but with an edge of sincerity. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You smiled faintly, your eyes already drifting shut. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

As you fell asleep, James tightened his hold on you just a little, his earlier awkwardness melting away. Though he’d never admit it, he could’ve stayed like that forever if it meant keeping you safe and warm.

[bookwyrminspiration]

I can behave normally around books

[mourn-and-watch]

one thing that is fascinating to me about merrill's arc is the way narrative manages to convince a big part of the fandom that she's immature and irresponsible and overall stupid. what we know about merrill and what we actually see on screen is that she successfully avoids possession for 6 years while working closely with a demon, almost every time she participates in some magic/spirit-related discourse she acts calm and confident and has some interesting input, she actively uses her knowledge of dalish lore and tradition to reason with her keeper, and that she actually did make progress with fixing and studying an ancient long forgotten artifact no one knows particularly anything about. but then an old woman who's never been shown to be an undeniably wise and reasonable figure, a guy who got willingly possessed with no awareness of possible consequences and whose whole mindset is still deeply andrastian and a bunch of people who know nothing about magic start judging and doubting her and everyone's like. yeah. she's so fucking dumb.

[silver-bees]

An excerpt of a letter written to Sherlock Holmes by Dr. John Watson that was left out of his public account of the adventure of the hound of the Baskervilles 

We had arrived back at the house after our fruitless search for the convict and I was nearly ready to retire when Sir Henry called out to me, his voice hoarse. “Watson, might you sit up with me for the night?” He seemed scared, not at all like the brazen man I had first met at Baker Street. My heart softened at his request, I sat back down without a word and we both gazed into the fire for a few minutes. Finally his voice broke through the still drawing room air. 

“I don’t know what to think. I was certain the curse was merely some old fairy story. I still half believe that, or maybe I just want to believe it, but that sound we heard…it was unmistakable.” “Stapleton said it may be the call of a rare bird” I replied but even to myself it sounded empty. As though either of us, or anyone else for that matter, could have been mistaken as to what that sound really was. “Or maybe some shepherd’s dog that got loose on the moor.” I continued, trying my best to sound unconcerned. “I suppose, though it sounded rather large for a sheepdog did it not?” He glanced over to me and I could see the terror glinting in his eyes. I put a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let it get you without a fight” I reassured. I kept my voice steady for him, but truth be told I felt nearly as shaken as he looked. Sir Henry took a deep, shuddering breath and a rough laugh burst from his throat as though against his will. “I’d much rather you not let it get me at all!” he exclaimed with a hint of his former bravado, “You know, I do feel safer with you by my side. I’ve been reading some of your accounts of your adventures with Holmes.” “Have you?” I asked with some little surprise.

“Stapleton lent them to me, apparently he quite enjoys them as well. I must say, you’re quite a writer. I’ve never been one for reading all that much but your accounts are most entertaining” I felt pride well in my chest at his words.

“Well, perhaps someday ‘the curse of the baskervilles’ will be added to their number” “It would be an honor,” he chuckled. 

We sat there for a few hours, the heat of the fire and some excellent brandy (courtesy of the late Sir Charles’ cellar) bringing the color back to his cheeks. Finally he brought the subject back around to my writing.

“You know Watson, I think you sell yourself short. In all your accounts you seem to rarely speak of your own achievements.” “Holmes said something similar to me on the morning your case was brought to us, though in his case I feel it was a little backhanded.”

“I mean it, Watson. You spend so many words detailing Holmes’ achievements and, while they do indeed seem marvelous, it leaves little room for praise of your own kindness. I would never have guessed from the way you write the sort of reassurance your company provides.” 

I must admit I blushed quite a lot at that. I admired Sir Henry and to hear such words from him made me feel things I simply don’t have words for. 

“I fear you exaggerate for the sake of my ego, my dear fellow” I deflected. 

“Certainly not! I appreciate Holmes taking my case, but to have you by my side is invaluable. I truly don’t know what I’d have done tonight when I heard that ghostly howl if you were not there to steady my nerves.” “Well, I certainly appreciate you saying that.” 

He looked at me for a long moment, the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes and his brow furrowed in contemplation. 

“Watson-” he started suddenly

“John,” I gently corrected, “We’re close enough to drop the formality” He nodded curtly. 

“John, if you do write an account of our time together, might I ask you to leave something out? Can you keep a secret, I mean?”

Of course I was hesitant to reply. I felt torn between my dedication to the details of the case and to keeping my dear friend’s privacy. 

“If it relates to-” “It doesn’t,” he assured me, “it is a strictly personal matter” “Then the public will never hear of it”

“Well, you know that I’m a bachelor…” he began with some hesitation. I was certain he was about to tell me he had some affection for Miss Stapleton. He did not. “I may always be a bachelor,” he continued, “I have little interest in women really” “That’s not so strange,” I reassured him, “Holmes has no interest in women either. I’ve known a few men who went for years having little interest in women until they met someone in particular and became enamoured.” “It’s not that I have no interests whatsoever,” he corrected, seeming to struggle for words, “I am Interested in someone, but I fear I am not suited for marriage with the person I am interested in” I couldn’t help but scoff. “You’re a baronette, my dear friend, what woman could possibly object to your place in society?” “That’s not exactly what I meant. I mean that he isn’t a woman” he said a bit gruffly. I understood suddenly why he had been so cagey about it and ensured that I wouldn’t publicize his secret. I nodded, letting him know that I caught his meaning while I formulated what to say in response. “I see. Well in that case, I should inform you that while I do have some interest in women, I have an equal interest in men.” I could see his eyes go wide in the dying light of the fire. It seemed I had taken him by surprise. 

“Well then, a fellow bachelor! What a pleasant surprise. Not that I have any right to ask, but are you and Holmes…?” He left the question open.

“Not exactly. I’ve considered it, but he never returned my feelings. He tells me he has no romantic inclination whatsoever.” Sir Henry seemed a little disappointed and I suspected I knew the cause. “But I am past those feelings. I moved on once I realized they weren’t returned.” 

“Have you anyone on your mind presently?” he asked and I fancy I heard some hope in his voice. 

“I believe so, yes, and I have reason to suspect I’m on his mind as well.” I gave him a meaningful glance. 

We didn’t say anything more. We didn’t need to say anything. He put his hand in mine and we watched the last embers of the fire burn out as dawn broke over the moor. 

Dear Sherlock Holmes fanfic write, please, please PLEASE One of you write a fanfic about Watson and Sir Henry (the hound of the baskervilles). I've been shipping them since I've seen the granade episode. THEY HAVE CHEMISTRY I PROMISE JUST TRY WRITING THE FANFIC (please?)

[lunarin64art]

That feeling when he can't stand to see you that way, no matter what you do, no matter what you say😩😭💔

[recurring-polynya]

I'm getting ratio'd by my family for my opinions, so let's see what Tumblr thinks about this:

He has to do it from standing, flat-footed. He cannot do it off of a high object or from standing in mid-air or into a Valley of Screams. He has to stick the landing. He is not allowed time to train or otherwise prepare. He's standing in the dojo and someone comes in and yells "DO A BACKFLIP!!": can he? Assume he is on-board with doing the backflip, i.e., don't pick 'no' on the assumption that he would refuse to do it.

[reksink]

Strangely Cladded Wizards

[skunkes]

[asmodeusamaryllis]

I don't think I can keep being open minded to n@tl@n guys

[unproduciblesmackdown]

"normal" meaning "unquestionable" & the embrace of that cropping up anywhere such as an aim to be on the unquestionable side of a Normal / Weird binary, thus surely being a comfortable effortless indelible version of Good that stems from "just be normal"

ppl out here like freud 2.0 where well they had the sufficiently normal Nuclear Household family(tm) experience so they're sufficiently normal for it, versus the weirdos who had the Questionable family times so as to end up with Issues, surely unlike all those who are Family Issue free, i.e. normal, no question. like how also Going To School is Normal, so of course there's that idea that anyone who didn't go to school normal style or did but Did That Wrong are the people made Weirder with Issues. & when what's Normal is what's Good is what's Unquestionable it's like why would i need to question it when it's so normal? why wouldn't some rando asshole nepo man be Meritous & Good at business when he's so Successful at it. speaks for itself, same as Your role of being treated entirely differently does, this can't be questioned, blame it on your own failures; again how the supposedly "questionable" experiences (unlike other ones, which need no Legitimate questioning) are pathologized like. people talking about disabled ppl's lacking "social skills" being this meaningful Driver of ableism just like poor people's lacking "financial literacy" being that darn cause of classism & resource extraction, the already Questioned vulnerable [you're just doing it wrong / failing] people are the cause of their own mistreatment, Normal people who are so socially & financially successful are helpless, this victim blaming (can't question it. Normal) sure totally doesn't speak to abuse being "normal" as well

which, good thing abuse totally isn't Normal i.e. in the territory of unquestionable things (with, obviously, the idea that Abuse (Real abuse, if you like) must be Exceptional in addition to, if not to Really be, "obviously" questionable) since if something can't be questioned then surely it's also How Things Were In The Beginning, Are Now, & Ever Shall Be (catholic prayer paraphasing re: god, for referential context) & there's just nothing to do but invest in & play into it For Success & resent / punish / try to eliminate disruption, like people just existing but doing it Weird, c'mon, be a better person please, obviously....meanwhile people out here approaching queerness in a way that accepts & acts according to the unquestionable normal of abuse of queerness, such that oh the "abnormality" of being queer (that is, "normal" people's abuse in the face of awareness of queerness) is unquestionable, such that Oh No, investment in that abuse now & forever world without end amen, & now punching down on the people who are just Being Weird & Disrupting this embrace of the norm: radfems invested in "all bodies will be classed as men & women & the former abuse the latter" & hate women who already disrupt this premise; pointing out ace exclusionism as terf logic just applied in the different context where queer vs nonqueer binary is neatly detected just as the gender binary is & people who already prove that & the way it's defined is not the case are the real problems, infiltrating Unquestionable (Normal) Queerness & delegitimizing it i.e. being The Cause of e.g. homophobic abuse, which will also unquestionably exist, so if we're gonna blame someone as Needing To Change it'll have to be uhhh already also affected Weird people who are ruining things, they're the Real causes of this abuse, so they're basically men, basically cis, basically straight. boooo to trans ace bi pan aro nonbinary gnc people....hardest to be binary gender "same sex" "romantic" "visible" Truly Queer couple currently holding hands in public or in front of family, & it's You Mfs who make it harder, not, yknow, the people who were already always embracing & perpetuating the abuse bolstering Normal(tm) Cishet Just Being Normal. and of course don't forget going after poly people & others disrupting / not accepting premises about Unquestionable Relationship Structures/Requirements. so not just being normal

also the beloved concept broken out that, of course, Being Normal = Being Good, b/c hello, unquestionable?? where it's like meaningless ideas that abuse is Abnormal like ":( hurt people hurt people" (inherently a framing to counter any response to [person is hurting me] that's not silent secret sympathy forever i guess. nobody's using this catchphrase to argue for Hey Quick let's all intervene to stop someone being hurt, lest they go on to hurt anyone themselves) like & yet everyone is hurt, yet not everyone is doing shit where these arguments are broken out after they're already getting away with nonsense & we're telling others to just stop complaining, while also not everyone isn't getting shit on for being "disruptive" & perchance the real hurtful problems for trying to Stop being shitted on, or just have a little more breathing room to day to day live while it happens. everyone's hurt bitch let's get you some "what's the actual patterns & context of supported power imbalance made emergently evident by whose choices & life are constrained & undermined & made smaller" like. or the expanded idea as that well all abuse comes from Being abused, i.e. the Cycle, never mind that abuse is everywhere as per its being Normal, & nobody's intervening every time it manifests despite its supposed exceptionality thus rareness & supposed indication that someone's Being abused to cause it. just gotta roll with it, wow. & pathologize being victim to it, abuser in the making, Vulnerable People are dangerous, those insulated & given more access to systemically backed power in an oh so Normal way are surely oh so Safe as well. the very rich families are all lovely havens. the abused people are treated so well & embraced & supported by all the more Normal people they encounter, certainly not Also isolated, bullied, victim blamed by these Normal friends family coworkers new partners randos in public randos who are "professionals"

but yknow uh literally just be normal lol. aaand post. and like "lol being Anti Being Normal? just like a weirdo" like yeah of course. and what, i'm gonna try to win the heart & mind of someone like "of course you have blue hair & pronouns" & convert them, as would definitely happen if only all transgenderists were Normal about it? and the perspective of "what Unquestionable Good is ever actually coming from striving to get to point at Others as Weird" involves going like "nooo i wanna see myself & be seen as Just Being Normal" instead of like having ideas / arguments about how to be considerate towards people which can be articulated in any other way & involve effort & said consideration (ft. anything able to be questioned)

[kn11ves]

emotional support group for autistics who got called condescending and rude as kids just for responding to things directly and still not knowing how they were being mean

[hsslilly-blog]

just realised that as far as i recall it hwu mc doesn’t cry at any point in hunts date quests and i think this is the biggest evidence of them being weird. not that people who don’t cry are weird but hwu mc specifically is very weird for not crying

[embv]

my body doesn’t Hate me, per se. It just Loves being an annoying little shit

[medicinemane]

I don't know, those gifs of Andrew Garfield saying how to him the most terrifying thing is certainty... they resonate with me

The way people go around so damn sure that they're right about things, frankly I think there's very few things more dangerous than not even allowing for the possibility that you're wrong

Like you've just decided that you 100% know best, and from now on any evidence to the contrary is just something to be pushed aside because it's clearly wrong. The harm you'll do isn't real because obviously you wouldn't be doing it if there was harm. You're just right. That's the end of it

No, I agree with Andrew Garfield, I'd much rather stop and reassess over and over, as many times as I need to, to make sure that I'm still doing the right thing

I'll never be anything cause it just doesn't interest me, but if I was going to join a religion I know I'd become Jewish

Thought that since I was little with all the Jewish friends I had at school, and what's more it just seems to fit me best, all the elements of questioning. Hell... it even sounds like if I said "you know, I don't really believe in god", that there's a chance the rabbi might say "funny thing, me neither" (I've heard some don't), but if not that at least "eh, that's fine, why don't you come discuss why with us"

It's just funny the number of times I've related to something someone's saying, and then you find out their Jewish and this ties into that sense of questioning things, and that interview is an example

I agree with him, nothing scarier than being 100% sure you're correct... you can do a lot of bad things once you know for a fact you're right to be doing them

[theriverdalereviewer]

ENOUGH WITH THE REBOOTS AND SPIN OFFS ENOUGGGHHHHH