#its not like me to use so many exclamation marks but this is IMPORTANT!!!! AND EXCITINGGGG

[purupurple]

AT LONG LAST, MY CREATIONS MADE MANIFEST

tanjerin squishie - cerise squishie

i had the honor of being able to help design the makeship squishies of everyone's favorite little fruity bugs, tanjerin and cerise! the timing of it being around valentine's day is also perfect, so i drew some cutesy art to celebrate~ i'm really so excited that something i made is now in marketable plushie form, it almost doesn't feel real lol. there's even a discount of 10% off each of them if you buy them together! so if you're interested, please help contribute to get them produced, it would mean the world to me! oh and spreading the word is also good, of course, so please do so! thank you!

[iwanttorundirectlyintothesun]

okay so ik its probably just the lighting but his eyes are so brown‽‽

its honestly reminding me of college henry like

compared to the red i was expecting,,, screaming

[adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction]

Who Moved My Cheese? - an overly long tear down review

I want to talk about a book that always seems to be hanging around in a high position on lists of bestselling business books, or appearing on recommended reading lists for business. It's currently number 6 in Amazon UK's rankings of Business Life books: Who Moved My Cheese by Dr Spencer Johnson.

I was recommended this book by a coworker more than a decade ago and since I read it back then, it has stuck with me mainly because I felt a vague irritation at it. A little while ago, I was clearing out my bookshelves and decided it was time to re-read it and examine my feelings in more detail. Hence this review tearing it apart, which is probably going to end up being as many words as the key part of the book.

I don't really disagree with the book's core message. The idea at the heart of the book is a decent one and if you just gave me the middle section of the book to read, I would probably be perfectly fine with it and agree that it's a useful metaphor that some people would probably get value from. But the book doesn't just give you that middle section. It seems to be full of a sense of its own importance, as though it's the greatest piece of advice you will ever hear, relevant to everyone on the planet and utterly life-changing. That's the aspect of the book that I disagree with - not the main message, but in the way it implies that the message is universal and vital.

The first few pages of the book are filled with what I'm calling fluff. There is a two-page section titled The "Who Moved My Cheese" Phenomena! Complete with exclamation mark. This talks about how this idea helped Johnson deal with a difficult change in his life, how his friends said it helped them and one encouraged him to write it down. There's a mention of how quickly it became an international bestseller and how people all around the world found it helped their businesses, careers, health, and marriages.

All of this talking about the value is tempered by a paragraph saying that critics can't understand how people find it valuable. There is a response from that author that it is, "how you interpret it and apply it to your own situation that gives it value." And, yeah, I can get behind this as an idea. If a reader finds it applies to their situation, and they find it useful, great. Good for them. If the author had followed this up with something about us finding value in different places, or that different people have different circumstances so whether it applies will depend, anything like that, I probably would be okay with this bit of the book. Even if the author had just stopped at that sentence, it would have been acceptable. But this bit wraps up with this sentence: "Hopefully the way you interpret the story of Who Moved My Cheese? and put it into action in your life will help you find and enjoy the "New Cheese" you deserve."

This reads to me like the author is saying that if you don't find this useful, it's not because there was a problem with the book or that it just wasn't applicable to your situation - no. It was because you interpreted it badly.

Now maybe I'm being unfair here but given some of the things that are said later on, it does feel like Johnson is saying that if you don't get anything out of the book, it's on you for reading it wrong.

Anyway, moving on, we get a page of quotes about how amazing the book is, and then we get to the prologue.

The prologue is written by Dr Kenneth Blanchard, the friend who encouraged Johnson to write this book. It talks about how he heard Johnson tell the story and how he thought it was really helpful. The Cheese in the book is a metaphor for whatever it is you happen to want - money, freedom, success in your job, a better relationship, whatever. It's supposed to be applicable universally to anything someone might want to achieve. He talks about how this story can change lives and gives an example of someone he knew who was going through changes they were upset with at work, but who heard this story and changed his attitude and was rewarded for that positive attitude. The rest of the prologue is a mixture of him continuing to sing its praises and giving a brief summary of the different sections of the book.

The hype is maybe a touch over the top but you get that sometimes in prologues. Someone will be asked to write an introduction to the book and big it up, so there's nothing too outrageous here, just a continuation of the promise that this book will be amazing and life-changing.

Now we get to the framing device. A group of friends are having a reunion and talking about how much their lives have changed. One of them, Michael, says he heard this great story and changed his behaviour because of it, and everything got better, and how he told other people and loads of them changed for the better because of it.

"However there were a few people who said they got nothing out of it. They either knew the lessons and were already living them, or, more commonly, they thought they already knew everything and didn't want to learn."

Again we get this assumption that the story is applicable to everyone. If you don't gain anything from the book it's because you either already embody what it's trying to teach, or you just don't want to learn because you already think you know everything. The idea that the book might not fit everyone's circumstances just doesn't seem to occur to Johnson. This is why I called out the quote from earlier - the desire to blame the reader if they don't find the book useful is repeated here. In the book, Michael says that the people who don't learn from the story are like one of the characters in it - the one that refuses to change no matter what.

This intro section is only three pages long and it's mostly weirdly awkward dialogue. It's clear from reading it that Johnson is used to writing business books not fiction. The bit that really made me cringe was when Michael gave the title of the story and the group all laugh and one says he likes it already, and I'm reading this thing thinking, "Can you just stop praising your own story every other sentence and get on with telling it?"

Finally we get to the main story.

The story of Who Moved My Cheese is a simple parable about characters in a maze. You have two mice, called Sniff and Scurry, and two little people called Hem and Haw. The little people are like humans, but tiny so they can live in the maze with the mice. These characters are apparently supposed to represent different aspects of ourselves, but at other points in the book, the characters in the framing device talk about some people being like one or other of these characters, so I'm not sure the author was entirely clear about the analogy. Anyway, these characters live in the maze and they run around hunting for cheese.

The different characters have different approaches, with the mice just acting on instinct and the little people being more thoughtful, but they all spend their days hunting for cheese until they find Cheese Station C, where there is an abundant source. The mice stay prepared, ready to start hunting in the maze again if they need to, but the two little people settle down and get out of shape and lazy, feeling entitled to their cheese and sure that it will last forever.

As you can probably guess from the title of the book, the cheese doesn't stay forever. They get to the station one day and the cheese is gone. The mice just get on with it and go back out into the maze to hunt for cheese and they eventually find a wonderful new source of new cheese at Cheese Station N, but the two little people stay behind, angry and upset, waiting for the cheese to come back. They get hungrier and hungrier waiting for the status quo to come back, Haw because he's scared of going back into the maze and failing to find cheese, and Hem because he feels like he deserves that cheese and it should come back and if he stays right here, everything will be alright in the end.

Eventually, Haw decides he has to accept that things have changed and he goes back into the maze. A large chunk of the story is him wandering the maze, thinking to himself, and writing various life lessons on the wall. He has various realisations, like looking back and noting that the supply of cheese had been diminishing for a while and starting to smell bad and maybe if he'd been paying attention, he would have seen the change coming and not been so caught off guard by it. This bit of the story drags a little bit. It's still pretty short, but it could have been trimmed significantly without losing anything of substance. I wondered if Johnson padded this out and included things like the framing device of the reunion to make the whole thing long enough to sell as a book without people feeling like they were being cheated. This is pure speculation, but the whole book is less than a hundred pages long, in large print, with things like the important lessons each getting their own page. It does feel like he was desperately trying to fill up the space to make the print run worth it.

In the end, as expected Haw makes it to Cheese Station N and finds the new cheese and the mice and he's happy, but now he's learned his lesson and he'll be on the lookout for change and be prepared to go and hunt for newer cheese the next time something like this happens.

If the book just had this middle bit, I'd be fine with it. It's a simple parable talking about the fact that change is inevitable and you should react to it in a way that's productive instead of trying to pretend it's not happening. There's a summary of the life lessons at the end of the little story and it's things like monitor the situation and anticipate it so you can adapt quickly and that's pretty decent business advice. There's one bit about how you should enjoy the change and treat it like an adventure and learn to laugh at yourself and I can see where Johnson is coming from with this. Sometimes life sucks, but you can still try to look on the bright side and savour good moments when they come to help get you through it.

I didn't think the way this particular piece of advice was presented in the story was handled particularly well. Haw starts seeing his hunt for cheese in the maze as an exciting adventure - even while he is still starving because he hasn't found any yet. He's smiling and laughing at himself and having a good time rolling with the change - while his situation is terrible. It rings false to me. I can see how this could be interpreted as "look for the good in bad situations" but I can also see how it might be interpreted as, "You should have a positive attitude even when everything has changed for the worse or being miserable is your own fault." I can see the message Johnson is trying to give but I think it was presented in a really clunky way.

Still, you end up with a okay little story which tells a simple parable with some lessons that can be applied to real life.

So why am I writing this long tear down of this book?

Well, that's because of the final part.

We come back to the framing device and Michael telling the story to his friends. They decide that they should all meet up and have a discussion about what the story means and how it could apply to their lives. We're back to the clunkily written dialogue as the characters all discuss how wonderfully the story can be used to explain aspects of their own experiences. There's one example of someone whose department was closing down and the guy didn't want to see it so he didn't listen when people tried to talk to him about other opportunities, and someone else related it to having to close down stores in their business.

I think it weakens the story that you have to spell it out to the reader to make them see what it means. It's like the author is going, "Here's how a metaphor works," in the most patronising way possible.

But then you get someone saying he made everyone in his company read the book and say which character they were, and how they had to confront the Hems and the Haws and convince them to change and fired some of them. That whole scenario rang false, because Hem is so clearly presented as the bad guy in the story, he's the one you don't want to be like. I can't imagine that anyone would be given this book by their boss and say, "Oh, I'm definitely Hem," when asked which character they relate to. No one would say, "I'm the character we're all supposed to not be."

The characters keep talking about how wonderful change can be, and how when they were upset with a change it all worked out for the best in the end. They all agree about how wonderful the story is and how they're going to share it with their friends and families. You get one of the characters saying this: "It works best, of course, when everyone in your organization knows the story."

This feels like the author reaching out of the page to tell you to buy a copy for everyone you work with. There are several bits in this section that feel like the author doing a sales pitch to middle management to convince them to buy a hundred copies to give out at a corporate training event. It's more of the author aggrandising about how amazing his own book is and how applicable it is to everyone, and how everyone you know should read it because it will change their outlook on life. The book acts like it's the most important book you will ever read. And it's just not as special as it makes itself out to be.

If you read the story in the middle and you get something from it, wonderful. Good for you. But there are a lot of scenarios that the book doesn't touch on. It tries to simplify all possible situations and scenarios and ways of behaving down to these four characters in this extremely simplified situation, but in simplifying things down, it misses out on nuance and the millions of different real life scenarios that don't nicely map onto its little world of mice and cheese.

Here are some stories that don't fit this analogy.

I'm going to get a little personal and talk about my mum. My mum used to work as a biochemist, working in the research labs for a pharmaceutical company, running early tests to try and find out if various chemicals or compounds would be effective at treating diseases and other medical conditions. When it comes to creating a new drug, there are loads of stages, starting with simulations on computers and theoretical research, then trying things out in labs on cells and tissue samples, all the way through to various scales of human trials to see if the drug actually works to cure whatever it's intended for and/or has horrible side effects. 

My mum worked doing those early lab trials and she really enjoyed her work. She found it interesting and intellectually stimulating. She liked that the work she was doing might help save lives. Before she worked for the pharmaceutical company, she worked in labs at a university also doing medical research. This was the work she wanted to do.

Then the company she worked for sold off its research arm and there were a load of people made redundant and she lost the job she loved in the lab. She got moved to a different area of the company and ended up transitioning into an IT job. For the rest of her working career up until she retired, she worked in an IT job. She found the job okay. It wasn't terrible, it had some good aspects to it and some bad aspects. There were coworkers she was really good friends with and co-workers she didn't really get on with. The job paid well enough and there were things she enjoyed about it, but it wasn't what she loved.

Someone moved her cheese and she went off into the maze and found some new cheese, just like the book says you should, but the cheese she found wasn't as good as the cheese she'd lost. The book tries to convince you that when you come out the other side of the change things will be better than they were before, and maybe sometimes they will be, but not always. Sometimes you have to compromise. Change is inevitable, sure, and you should adapt with it and make the best of the situation, but you're not always going to find that what you get at the end of the process is magically better than what you had before because the world just doesn't work that way.

Then let's look at the character of Hem. This is the character who's clearly framed to be the bad example in the book. We don't get a definitive answer of what happened to him because he gets left behind, but the implication is that he starved to death waiting for his cheese to be returned. When the cheese disappears in the middle of the story, he insists that it will come back and stays where he is.

You can see examples in the real world where companies tried to stick with the old way of doing things despite change that was going on and paid for it. Blockbuster Video was driven out of business by the rise in streaming services, and companies that depending on film photography paid the price for ignoring the rise of digital cameras. But sometimes a setback really is temporary.

In 2010, there was a massive volcanic eruption in Iceland that sent huge amounts of ash into the atmosphere and massively disrupted air travel. Several countries had to close their airspace because planes couldn't cope with the ash clouds. For a couple of months, fights continued to get cancelled or delayed. If we imagine an owner of a tour company in Iceland during those two months, this would be dreadful. No one would be flying into Iceland - at the heart of the problem - and so there would be no tourists buying tickets for the tours. In our metaphor, the cheese at the cheese station would have disappeared - and unlike the example in the book, it wouldn't have been possible to see this coming and prepare for the change. Also unlike the book, the attitude of, "If we just wait, the cheese will come back," is probably the correct one. Those couple of months were probably terrible if you worked in the tourism industry or had a shop in an airport or something like that, but the problem was a temporary one that righted itself. The position of the character Hem of staying where he was and waiting the problem out sometimes is the sensible approach.

If you owned a tour company and decided to throw it all in and set up a new business doing something completely different, you probably wouldn't have finished writing your business plan by the time the air cleared and planes were flying again.

The book is also extremely optimistic about change being achievable for everyone. You just need to put on your running shoes and head out into the maze and everything will turn out alright. But what about the mice that starve in the maze unable to find cheese through no fault of their own?

In the real world, there are people who find their cheese taken away. They lose their job because of something outside of their control, or there's a disaster which destroys their home, or they have a major health crisis - or all three at once. If they end up living out of their car, with their savings wiped out, and no fixed address to put on the job applications, you can't just say "keep looking for the opportunity." This is especially true for people who face discrimination.

In a period of depression, there might be thousands and thousands of people out of work, all competing for the same jobs. Telling them that they should just keep looking, just keep hunting the maze for their cheese, makes it seem like it's entirely their fault if they don't succeed. If you don't find a job, you just weren't looking hard enough, you weren't trying hard enough. The book doesn't even consider that there might be people in the maze, trying and trying and trying, hunting for their cheese, but getting nowhere - because of bad luck, because of discrimination, because there are just more mice than cheese at that point in time.

And then there are the people who have a bad situation but aren't in a position to look for a better one. To borrow the book's analogy, let's imagine a mouse is at a really terrible cheese station that gives out a couple of crumbs a day. Those crumbs are just barely enough for the mouse to make it back to the cheese station the following and to get the next crumbs, but the mouse is hungry and exhausted and just doesn't have the energy to go and hunt through the maze for better cheese because it's barely surviving as it is and if it leaves, it will have nothing.

There are people who are in a horrible situation with a sucky job and the instinct is to say, "Well, go and find a better job then." But hunting for a new job, applying for it, interviewing it, all of that takes time and energy, and if you're living pay check to pay check, working long hours to make ends meet, you might not be able to do that. If taking time off work to go and interview for a new job you might not even get means you won't get enough money to pay the bills this week, are you going to take that chance all that often? No. Because the priority is immediate survival. This book acts like sitting around in a bad situation is a mistake you should learn to avoid, but sometimes it's less a case of sitting there and more a case of being trapped their by circumstance.

So, yeah, there are a few thoughts about scenarios the book doesn't even think about.

This book is a case of advice that is sometimes helpful being treated as universal. I'm sure there are plenty of people who find it useful. If you're one of them, I won't try to take it away from you. I just wish it was less over the top in terms of how it presents itself.

It feels like fairly middle class advice. And by that I mean it assumes that whoever is reading it has opportunities and can take the chance to change without risking the foundations of your life. It's easier to strike out and hunt for new opportunities if you're a highly-educated, healthy, cis, white guy rich some savings in the bank account than it would be for other people missing some or all of those privileges. "Try hard enough and you'll get what you want," is fair enough as advice but it ignores the people who try really, really hard but who have the deck stacked against them.

One of the pieces of advice is about not being afraid to go into the maze and look for new cheese. Don't be afraid to go out and look for new opportunities is easier advice to take if you have a safety net of savings to fall back on if it takes you a little while to find a new job, or if you have enough funds that you can move to a new city, or if you own the house you live in so you don't have to worry about being homeless if something goes wrong.

Most self-help or advice books are aimed at a specific audience. There is a particular group of people who will read them and find the advice useful, and that's perfectly normal. No advice is going to be appropriate to everyone's circumstance. I wouldn't have a problem with this book if the author accepted that fact and didn't try to promote the book as something perfect that everyone should read and that if you don't get anything out of it, well that's your fault because you're clearly too much like Hem and just don't want to change.

As I said at the beginning, if this book came without the aggrandising and the irritating framing narrative, I'd find it fine. I wouldn't love it, but I'd accept it as okay. As it is, I find it infuriating because it feels like the author is unaware that his experiences aren't universal and believes that everyone in the world who ever lived will have their life changed by his simplistic fairytale and mediocre business advice.

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2023 No. 9 - Mistaken Identity

Scogan Bingo challenge Pillows

"Logan …" These two syllables contained at least three exclamation marks which was an achievement all by itself, considering Scott should actually still be in that certain blissful post-surgery condition of being drugged to the brim and that his voice currently had about as much strength as an 80's stereo with dying batteries. Somehow, the guy still managed to file a complaint approximately 10 minutes after waking up, and right now, Logan was even far too happy about this so unexpectedly quickly returning energy to give him shit for it.

He just didn’t have time to deal with that familiar, strangely beloved nagging right now. "Give me a second, Slim. Almost done." At least that was what Logan hoped, taking a good long look around the luxurious guest apartment on the top floor of Stark Tower that should be their shared accommodations for an undetermined period to come. A half-smoked cigar almost forgotten dangling from between two fingertips, Logan walked the spacious floor of the living chambers, the bedroom, and the bathroom once more, trying to make out any possible too-tight hallways and obstacles, anything he might have missed regarding Scott's current sensitive needs. At least the kitchen, he didn’t need to include in that last patrol, he thought with a wry grin, firmly closing that door.

Scott was a walking disaster in any kitchen even at his best of health, and right now, Logan wanted him even less anywhere near a stove. That was what takeout and Stark's servants were for. While Logan wasn’t thrilled to make either of them dependent on an Avenger of all people? After the clusterfuck that had been the last Hellfire Gala, their means and options were limited, and Tony and Emma had both insisted. Not to mention, right now Scott was simply in a shitty position to refuse such kind offers from friends, family, and business partners. They might both not be horribly hot on it, but until Scott would be better, enjoying and making use of all merits that came with residing at one of Tony's homes was the best choice.

Logan just needed to make sure, his lover wouldn’t get his cute ass in trouble right again, after Logan had only just pulled it from another deadly torture trap. Stark's scientists and medics, together with Synch, should not have had spent almost two days for nothing, making sure, Scott would be back to fighting shape in a couple of months, with any luck, instead of spending the rest of his days in a wheelchair and basically blind. Somewhat convinced that there were at least no tripping hazards and impassable spots in the apartment, Logan strode back towards the bedroom, reluctant to leave Scott alone for too long, no matter how believably Emma had convinced him, the procedures had gone as well as could be expected and that Scott was now on the mend. There were far too many things for Logan's taste regarding that recovery that could still go wrong. Not to mention that short moment yesterday in the operating theater when he'd seen his lover as hopeless and resigned as never before since he knew that stubborn asshole. That was definitely something Logan didn’t want to encounter again anytime soon. If what was left of mutant world for the moment was to keep one of its most important leaders and Logan was to keep the man he finally was no longer afraid to admit he loved just as much as the woman whom they'd both just lost to that very same last tragedy … Then he needed to be around and attentive a little more than was usually in his nature, little as he might like it. Following that trail of thought, Logan grimaced at what was left of his smoke in his hand when he realized, some ash was about to give the expensive red and gold carpet an interesting new pattern. Impatiently, he hurried to the next best sink to get rid of the offending object.

"Logan …" This time, there was a hint of amusement in that meek sound.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be right with you." The unplanned detour back to the kitchen had a very positive side-effect, Logan realized, remembering that those instructions for watching over his lover, especially in the first few nights had named proper hydration as one of the top priorities. While Logan had already stored a whole six-pack of that disgusting mild sparkling brew that Scott preferred, next to the bed, he'd forgotten to bring either glasses or straws, and he couldn’t find the latter in that damn kitchen for the life of him. Which sucked because Logan wouldn’t be around 24/7 for glasses refills, as much as he would have loved to …

This time, the voice came from the kitchen speaker connected to the apartment's internal communication line that Logan had had a very entertained-looking Synch install for him in here earlier, just in case even his enhanced senses couldn’t pick up at a possible call for assistance from the bedroom for once. "Logan, if you don't get your ass in here right now, I'll try out that miracle construction of Stark's just to come and get you." Well, that didn’t sound a lot like an emergency. More like Scott was indeed about to do exactly what he was so strictly forbidden from right now, just to kick Logan's ass.

That would have been so fucking in-character for the guy that Logan decided to rather not fight Scott for once, returning to the bed at least with those glasses, a package of crushed ice under his arm, and an impatient eye-roll on his face. "Like hell you will. Not before they tell you to. We can talk about sitting up tomorrow morning though, if you're not too much of a pain until then." Logan draped the glasses next to where the first bottle was waiting, on that movable tray that was just one of the many high-tech attachments that Stark had equipped that bed with that inevitably would have to serve as the center of Scott's life for a while. Not paying attention to a scowl on his lover's face that not even the thick white bandages temporarily blocking his sight could hide, Logan sat down on the mattress right next to where Scott was perched in a slightly upright position under three blankets and went for the final check. Which included, trying out for himself if he could reach all remotes for TV, trays, and communicators from the mattress without twisting and turning any more than necessary. It was a bit of a stretch, but between them, Scott notoriously had longer arms, so …

"Logan." There was an unexpected tenderness in Scott's voice when he spoke up next, along with a tired vulnerability that Logan cared a lot less for. But in a way, that, too, was positive. It assured Logan that for once, his lover knew exactly that after his latest ordeal, he was in for more than his body could deal with for now, since all people capable of healing such severe damage within minutes were not available for the moment. "You're …"

"… basically done, so shut it. I think you could use another one of those." Logan frowned at a couple of pillows in Scott's back that were already denting in under the weight that was this partly external metal construction serving as a replacement for Scott's shattered spine until either everything Synch and those doctors had put back together earlier would be ready to function on its own … Or until what was left of their race would manage to undo that whole latest catastrophe and bring back everyone and everything they had lost. Including a physical shape for one of their heroes that didn’t need nanobots, titanium, computer programs, and electricity to function.

"… fussing," Scott continued his own sentence, unfazed, that smile broadening on his healing lips which almost had their beautiful, full curve back, those at least.

"I'm most definitely not." Logan crossed his arms with an irritated grumble until he remembered that Scott couldn’t see that right now and lowered them again with a sigh. Deciding that the pillow could probably wait, he sunk back a little deeper into the mattress and cautiously sneaked his arm under Scott's unmoving shape instead, shuddering at the touch of that exo-spine against his elbow.

The smooth coldness, broken by wires and artificial joints, was quickly made forgotten by the sensation of Scott's skin under Logan's agitated caress on his neck, fortunately. The pulse under Logan's fingertips was still a little slow but it was strong and steady. Scott's tall, usually so resilient shape was also no longer drenched in the sickening scent of poison, infection, and the rusty, perverted contraption that would almost have blown him to pieces either. There was a little too much stubble for Logan's taste on those high cheekbones, and they were a little too hollowed still and far too pale …

But Logan was pretty sure, if he went searching for a razor now or brought up trying to get on the balcony for an hour or so of sun tomorrow, Scott would cut his throat with a glass shard. "Fine. Maybe. A little. Can you blame me?"

"Never did. So stop obsessing. You know that's my job." Scott leaned into that suddenly trembling touch against his neck with a sigh, his battered body relaxing against the almost rock-hard mattress a good deal more immediately.

Huh. Maybe Logan didn’t need to worry so much about getting his lover comfortable whenever he wasn’t in here as long as he made sure not to fuck up when he was. Starting, apparently, with being less obvious about feelings he hadn’t even really let into his own soul yet that Scott could pick up far too easily. The guy knew him damn well for someone who hadn’t been around for the better part of the last few years. And why? Because the two – the three – of them had been stupid enough to let political troubles and diverging missions come between what they'd shared for a just as short as intense, wonderful time on that damn moon. Scott wouldn’t want to hear that, but the truth was – that he was lying here in this lousy state right now, partly was due to Logan not being there in the right moment. Well, he'd always been a huge fan of not making the same mistake twice. "Your only job is getting back on your feet right now, Slim. You let me worry about the rest." Logan leaned in to kiss any possible protest off those pouting lips before it could come, frowning again when those damn pillows dipped even lower under his additional, not inconsiderate weight. He needed to instruct JARVIS to get something better in here as soon as Scott was no longer awake to punch him in the dick for it.

"You can't babysit me for the next five months," Scott reminded him with as much firm determination as he could manage right now, one weak arm loosely slung around Logan's shoulders so he couldn’t back away. "I need you out there more than ever right now. I need you to look out for the others until I can go back to doing that myself. And even until then, don’t think for even a second that I'll be spending my days only crying into chocolate ice cream over Say Yes To The Dress and pining for you to return. I'll have Stark set up a proper communication central in here the moment I'm no longer on even too much Vicodin to not want to fuck you stupid right now. I need to be in touch with everyone still around if we want to make this whole thing right."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Slim." Logan was reluctant to bring up that subject on top of everything already wrecking Scott's soul. But if he didn’t want to risk another possible hit, not only mentally but maybe in the shape of a dangerous attack on this building, too, if someone with the wrong intentions and allegiance did the math? Then he had to get that new insanity out of his lover's still quite trauma-addled brain as quickly as possible. "You're basically a dead man walking right now. Most might not believe it's you if they see you just on a screen, especially with your fancy Freddy Krueger imitation of a face right now. And some others will demand an explanation for the Capitol. Captain Krakoa is not exactly popular with the kids right now."

"I'm not going to apologize for things I didn’t do," Scott gritted out, the increasingly shaking hand not busy clenching down on Logan's hair for purchase turning into a harsh fist. "I'm done with that."

"I'm not asking you to." Logan bent down for brief, soothing kiss to Scott's still slightly heated forehead. "Just to stay under until we found out who took your mantle, and word has gotten around that this was not on you. We don't want any unwelcome visitors here as long as you can't leave on your own two legs if necessary."

"Anyone who needs actual proof that I didn’t attack humanity is no longer welcome in my life, period." Scott's expression only darkened further, and Logan knew, if he hadn’t been ordered to keep his eyes shut until the last of these dangerous infections of his lids had healed, there would be a warning flash of red behind his usual ruby shields right now. "People had decades to memorize the lower half of my face, Logan. Few only ever even saw me only with a pair of glasses on. If they still can't tell my fucking jawline from someone else's? Apparently, I did even more wrong than I thought whenever I went out there. I'm not waiting until they want to book me for Men's Health again to make that right. We've lost too many and too much for that."

"Pretty sure there was never one of our kind on Men's Health, Slim." Logan let out an exhausted sigh but decided that was a discussion for tomorrow. Or at least for the time when Scott would be allowed to open his eyes again and the question of starting to work would become an actual, real issue. Until then, Logan had at least a couple of weeks to get some sense back into that guy. And as usual in mutant world, things might already look a whole lot different a couple of days from now. "How about you start on that beauty sleep right now though? I'll check with Stark and Emma if there's anything you should know." Logan already made a move to get out of bed again when he paused at the feeble but unmistakable touch of a large, bony hand around his wrist, the unspoken, still slightly shy word on Scott's slightly opened lips.

On second thoughts, things like communicators existed. And he had a more important duty here to do, obviously. "Slim, I don't think that's …" This time, Logan interrupted himself with a grimace. Maybe there was a thing as being too worried.

It at least didn’t look unbearably painful when Scott straightened up on his elbows a little once Logan was back beside him, and reached for his still mostly paralyzed left thigh with his teeth clenched, his upper body twisted to the side as much as the corset temporarily restricting him allowed. Still an impossible endeavor for now, though.

Good thing, Logan was usually far better without a lot of words anyway. Scooting close enough, he carefully pushed his arms under his lover's compromised shape and helped him turn to his side before snuggling up against him, cautiously bracketing those long, haggard legs with his own, his face buried against Scott's neck. The obstacle of the exo-spine between them was nothing more than a neglectable resistance against Logan's own metal-enhanced chest while he deeply breathed in that grounded, clean smell that was his lover's beloved scent, his own eyes quickly falling close as he listened to Scott's heartbeat and breathing becoming even more slower and more regular. Well, that probably meant, there was indeed no need for any more pillows.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

@scoganbingo

[alpinelogy]

ivy, papyrus for the ask game :)

random get to know me ask game

ivy ⇢ what are your ‘tells’ for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell you’re happy, annoyed, upset or tired?

Irl I think its mostly when I am anxious/nervous I fiddle with everything I can find. Including my hair or my watch largely depending on what has a more pleasing texture. And when I am annoyed/tired/etc I tend to be super short with people adfdg. Online when I am happy I tend to use a lot of emojis and exclamation marks and its pretty visible how much my social battery is drained based on how long I take to respond. But in general I try to not let my moods bleed into my interactions with people if they did not cause it, especially the negative ones

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

Vicious heroism by Kobaryo my beloved. I think it was one of the first speedcore songs I ever listened to many years back when I was just getting into the genre and its is still one of my favorites. Plus however you would categorize Vicious [ANTi] Heroism it also fucks so a two for one. And yeah its technically from a rhythm game but the chart for that is very fun so idm and every other speedcore song has been at some point been imported into a rg, comes with the genre o7

[sunshine-zenith]

For context, I work in healthcare

Due to Reasons, there was a small but very much identifiable puddle of blood on the sidewalk/street outside my clinic, and I and my coworker had no idea if this was an Our Problem thing or a Not Our Problem thing. It didn’t feel right just leaving it — on one hand, we’re in a city in an interesting location, and those streets have absolutely seen many a biohazard in its days. Plus it’s actually not the most noticeable thing in the world, being mostly on the street/edge of the sidewalk. On the other, I feel like if someone needs medical help, they’re probably very stressed out and if they happen to look in the wrong direction and see blood outside the medical building it probably won’t help that stress, ya know? So we turn to the slack chat our coworkers are in

We see one of the trainers who has been there forever start typing — she’s written literal rule books for us to follow and knows a bunch of Big Important Secret Laws off the top of her head, so we get excited. Her reply? “I think that is a question for facilities!” Exclamation mark and all. Who is facilities? Fuck if I know, thanks for the help. After this, I get a bunch of messages from my coworkers that are telling us to look for an “emergency spill kit” (sounds cool, but we couldn’t find it because of course it wouldn’t be there when we actually need it), to contact facilities (who and how???), or saying they have no idea if that’s even our job but like. Yeah that’s not a great look. Again, lotta exclamation points in the chat

My coworker finds facilities but since she was actually a float, she couldn’t submit a ticket with them. I try to refollow the steps she took and I think I submit the ticket successfully but I’m not sure. I’m seeing a screen marking my submission as High Priority (Biohazard), and I see there are at least five unfamiliar names looking at it, but I receive no confirmation or notification or word or anything

The puddle of blood, which is still very much liquid at this time, has been out there for like half an hour at this point

At this point, I decide just throw on some gloves, grab one of our chux pads, and at least soak it up a little. My coworker is realizing she’s not the biggest fan of the sight of blood. We still have no idea if this is even an Our Problem thing.

Dear reader, to truly appreciate the visual of this next part you need to understand that a “chux pad” is one of those blue and white puppy pee pads.

As I am out there in the street, wearing my work scrubs and jacket, holding a puppy pee pad to the concrete that is rabidly turning red, someone chooses this moment to walk down the street. I try to ignore them. According to my coworker, who is watching this from the clinic window, this poor soul is very much not ignoring me. They start walking faster and even swerve their steps to give me a very wide berth. They were reportedly giving me major side eye

We, naturally, tell all our coworkers in the slack chat. Everyone laughs at us Because Healthcare Workers

At this point, the Identifiable Blood Pool could pass for a ketchup stain or something. From now on if I see a possible ketchup stain on the sidewalk, I Will Have Doubts. Whatever, good enough

Aaaaand then it starts raining. Not hard but it’s definitely heavy. It last for like fifteen minutes but by the time it’s done, the “ketchup stain” is gone. Guess we wasted that chux pad, but what can ya do

We move on, the slack chat makes memes about the whole situation, all is well. We forget about it because we have patients and labs and such. Several hours later, right before I clock out, what do I get in my email? A short message from facilities telling me that any and all blood outside the building is in fact a Not Our Problem thing and to just not worry about it.

Neat.

[petty-crush]

“The Hospital”

Rewatching this film for the first time in years has been a uniquely liberating experience.

It is so great, well acted, directed, and smartly written than even when the ending doesn’t really stick (and the film becomes pretty good rather than great) I have no reservation in praising it as a must see.

Consistency is often thought of worth its weight in gold, but that isn’t true, it’s just that it’s rare.

Who cares that the first half of this film is better than the last half? The fact that something this phenomenal even exists in the first place is a extraordinary delight.

Plus, with a guy like Chaffedky, you want him to swing for the fences, try something that may indeed exceed his grasp.

This film concerns a doctor trying to save his sanity and renew his healing purpose while the hospital (and the health industry itself, via parable) threats to be crushed under murder and beauacracy.

Actor George C. Scott...what a volcano. The drunken monologue about being mammoth but healing nothing is an obvious high point. But I encourage attention to the close up where he chastises the head nurse over Dr Schaffer’s death and “radiant incompetence”. He is absolutely zeroed in on this material.

Like a boar in a mushroom store, he consumes and drunkenly revels everything in sight. This is the intention of the film (almost a play) but Scott puts the three exclamation marks on the sentence.

I wasn’t sure what to make of Arthur Hiller’s directorial work the first few times I saw it so long ago, but now I think his packed but clutter free use of the frame (so we are never confused visually) is exactly what this film needs. A rock steady hand in glove.

Notice how he lets in wide frame the disbelief (“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nurse Perez, do you know what she’s talking about?”) grow and our anger build as there too many people measuring four times and never cutting.

The ultimate resolution....isn’t really important, just that it happens. It’s lack of truly convincing power in no way makes us mad that we watched this film. It makes us question how can something like this truly end. It inspires emotions and debate; and to review how great the lead up was.

Not all trains stop smoothly and neatly in the end station. The ride was sure worth it though.

I do admit, I like the very last shot, of Scott walking back into the hospital, his mantra of responsibility over love wrapped around his neck like an anchor.

In my younger years I thought such a notion dumb as shit (and there definitely situations where it is, usually between two people) but here, with the health of the community on the line, it’s wondrous to see someone fight for the overall well being of our world.

The moments of joy and erupted laughter this film inspires in me, even though I’ve seen it before, shakes me. This is a true gem, a fierce howl of black comedy.

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

Tips on How to Write Dialogue

Here's an updated version of my old post! As I've grown as a writer, I realized the wording and the tips of my old post weren't as good as they could be, so I decided to completely revamp it!

Dialogue is incredibly tricky, for both beginners and experienced writers alike. It can be too overworked, as in cluttered with speech tags and descriptions, or too bare-bones, struggling to have any liveliness.

The main reason dialogue is so difficult is because of the complexity of human communication. It's a paired dance between nonverbal and verbal communication, and how people's demeanor may or may not embody what's coming out of their mouth. Without visuals or audio at your disposal to act as an aid for the reader, writing a good, realistic conversation can be hard to get right.

Here are some tips and tricks for those who've been struggling with their dialogue!

1. Punctuate it Right

No matter how good your writing is, readers will have a tough time loving it if it's improperly punctuated. Many of us have come across fanfictions where it is near-impossible to read the dialogue, or to distinguish between the people who are speaking. But knowing all the ways not to punctuate dialogue doesn't make it easy to figure out how to do it correctly.

Here's some sample dialogue to see correct punctuation in action.

"I am speaking," Character A says with a wave.

"I am replying," answers Character B, "but I also have something to say after my speech tag."

"You do not have to put a comma at the end of your sentence if there's no speech tag." Character A winks. "If you want to, it's also okay to put a period after the interrupting phrase instead of a comma, if the next line of dialogue is a new sentence."

"There's also an exception for exclamation points!" Character B announces. "You don't need a comma after exclamation points."

Here are some more specified rules:

1. Please use quotation marks (" ") to show when someone is speaking

'This is incorrect punctuation' and -so is this- and <so is this>

2. Please don't overuse caps to show anger or shouting. Using it for emphasis during climactic moments can be great, but using too much comes across as childish.

Instead of doing this, you can put an exclamation point at the end of the sentence and strong speech tags like 'roared' or 'bellowed' or 'screeched.' Although caps may portray anger in a more literal sense, it isn't very professional if you use a lot of it.

3. You can put a period or a comma after an interruption sentence, but make sure to stay consistent.

"This is correct," she says, "It is a good way to punctuate."

"This is also correct," she says. "However, you need to stay consistent and not switch around."

"This does not apply," she says, "when the second line of dialogue is a continuation of the first and not its own sentence."

4. Start a new paragraph whenever the speaker changes

"This is very important for readers' comprehension," he says.

"If it's all one big block, how will they now which one of us is talking?" she adds.

"This isn't right," he says. "It's very confusing," she agrees.

5. If you have a very long monologue that's becoming one big block of text, you can break it up with a paragraph break. Here's how:

"I'm going to be talking for a very long time. You can skip this if you want. Really the most important part is at the end of this paragraph. You should probably skip to that. These words are just to take up space. You're still here? Aww, thank you for listening to me, but this is just an example. Normally this paragraph would be a lot longer, but I'm keeping it short so that I don't take up that much room.

"See what I did there? I didn't use a quotation mark at the end of the first paragraph, but began the second paragraph with a quotation. That way, you don't think the person has stopped speaking."

2. Try Cutting Down Your Speech Tags if Your Dialogue Feels Cluttered or Stilted

I know it’s a groaner; seemingly every writing advice blog says this. Don’t worry, I get it.

If you don’t know what a speech tag is, it’s a verb (usually paired with a name or pronoun) after a line of dialogue to describe how a character is saying that certain line of dialogue.

(Example: “I don’t want to go,” she argued.)

You can find my master list of speech tags here.

Speech tags can be an incredible resource, and can really help kick your dialogue up to the next level, but if they're overused, they can get in the way.

If your dialogue is coming off very stilted and unnatural, then too many speech tags might be the cause.

Look through your work, considering each case on an individual basis, and try eliminating unnecessary speech tags depending on what you think best fits your story.

For example:

“Shut up!” she shouted.

This isn’t necessarily a bad example, not by a long shot. But if you’re having trouble with rhythm in this particular section of your story, maybe consider taking out the ‘she shouted’ part. With the exclamation point, we can assume she shouted the line.

Also, dialogue between two people can have less speech tags, too.

For example:

“Hey, what’s up?” she greeted. “How was school?”

“Fine,” he snapped.

"Doesn't sound fine," she pointed out.

"Whatever," he scoffed.

Now, let's see how this exchange sounds without some of the speech tags making it cluttered.

"Hey, what's up?" she greeted. "How was school?"

"Fine," he snapped.

"Doesn't sound fine."

"Whatever."

As you can see, I kept the two first speech tags to make sure the readers know who is speaking (as well as the tone of the conversation), which is why it's important to not go around hacking away speech tags without considering the context.

But the speech tags I did cut out made the dialogue flow a whole lot easier! Sometimes you have to sacrifice the specificness of your character's delivery of the line in favor of smooth, rhythmic flow of speech.

3. Add Some Choreography or Give Your Characters Props to Spice Things Up

Choreography doesn't mean a full dance number, but rather actions that can go along with your dialogue. This tip is for writers who may be struggling to make their dialogue lively or exciting.

Actions and choreography can also substitute in for speech tags.

Instead of:

"What the hell were you thinking?!" he roared.

You could try:

"What the hell were you thinking?!" He slammed his fist on the table, his eyes blazing.

In both instances, you can tell the character is angry, only the second one is a more 'show, not tell' approach to things.

The scene can also benefit from a "situation," such as people eating their food or washing the dishes, and the dialogue in turn would then be interrupted by describing people performing actions associated with that "situation," such as taking bites or sipping drinks.

Things you can describe while someone is speaking:

Mouth movement (smiling, scowling, lips twitching)

Eye movement (Glaring, rolling, fluttering, darting around)

Jaw twitching

Fidgeting

Sweating

Shifting weight

Moving around the scene

Breathing (sighting, letting out a heavy breath, panting, breath hitching)

Using props during the activities that are going on (cutting up vegetables, chewing, drinking, etc.)

And more!

Make sure not to overuse these descriptions, though, because like with speech tags, they do have the potential to clutter up your dialogue!

Try to intersperse them whenever you feel like your dialogue needs a bit more action going on, or feels too sparse and fast-paced.

4. Learn From the Professionals

The best way to get better at writing dialogue isn't going to be a random post on Tumblr like this, it's going to be by consuming other media and embodying the things you see.

Put on your favorite movie or TV show. Study how the characters look when they speak, how they talk, how the scene is set up. Look at how the actors portray the emotions their characters are having, and how the dialogue itself is paired in tandem with scene choreography.

Read your favorite books, too, and see how the authors write their dialogue. You may find that they all have different styles and ways of doing it, and can adopt ideas from each!

5. If You're Getting Stuck, Write the Dialogue First

If you're having a lot of trouble writing the entire scene, just write down the dialogue. Nothing else. Try to make the conversation as interesting as possible while still being bare bones, and make sure it accomplishes the goals that you want it to.

Do you want to make two characters grow closer?

Do you want to introduce a new plot point?

Foreshadow?

Make sure all that gets done in the bare-bones version so that you don't get too caught up in the embellishment to remember, then add everything else in later!

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[yurimother]

How 'She-Ra' Delivered on Queer Promises and Helped Revolutionized LGBTQ Representation

DreamWorks's She-Ra and the Princesses of Power has already cemented its place among the short but rapidly growing list of children’s animated shows with impactful LGBTQ representation. Showrunner Noelle Stevenson made it a point to push and fight for more diverse characters in every aspect from race, to personality, to sexual and gender identity. However, the finale of the GLADD Award-nominated program delivered on a revolutionary promise built up throughout all five seasons and completed one of the greatest queer narratives ever seen in children’s media.

As She-Ra progressed, Stevenson became more encouraged and inspired to pressure executives to allow more and more explicit LGBTQ characters and relationships. While ever-present in the series, season one only featured a background couple, Spinnerella (Noelle Stevenson) and Netossa (Krystal Joy Brown), and of course, the famous dance sequence between Catra (AJ Michalka) and Adora (Aimee Carrero). While this amount of representation is comfortably leagues ahead of the vast majority of cartoons, the show only upped the ante and the amount of representation from there. Season 2 introduced viewers to George (Chris Jai Alex) and Lance (Regi Davis), Bow's fathers. The series presents them in a normalized fashion as a happy gay couple in love that built a family together. Jacob Tobia's non-binary Double Trouble featured heavily in season four, making them one of the first non-binary characters in children's animation and one of the first to holding an integral role in the show, a major step in representing such identities.

The many achievements and strides She-Ra in LGBTQ representation featured in She-Ra will doubtlessly affect other projects in the industry and help further programs walk a similar path. However, the greatest queer story inShe-Ra is the spectacular series-long arc exploring the relationship and dynamics between de facto antagonist Catra and protagonist Adora. The former friends, who grew up together in the ranks of the Horde, turn enemies at the start of the series after Adora gains the power of She-Ra and betrays Catra, joining the Rebellion.

Fans quickly began speculating on the nature of Adora and Catra's relationship during season one, mainly because of the Princess Prom dance scene. After the young women shared a charged and sinister dance, fans quickly began supporting and analyzing "Catradora." The next three seasons would gradually and gracefully define both characters' complicated feelings for each other. Initially, Catra attempts to rationalize Adora's leaving as a relief or else forces herself to appear apathetic towards it. She continuously uses the excuse that she is no longer living under Adora's shadow to gradually build up more power, rising through the ranks of the Horde while stepping on those who helped her.

While Catra's motivations are appropriately layered and complex, it becomes clear that she is attempting to win approval, to be less alone than she has felt since Adora abandoned her. She seeks others' approval, including her abusive maternal figure, Shadow Weaver (Lorraine Toussaint), and the cruel Hordak (Keston John). However, Catra does not realize until confronted by Double Trouble's gut-wrenching and emotionally resonating analysis of her psyche. They inform Catra that the reason she is alone and abandoned, she pushes others away. The realization that her problems and loneliness are by her own doing combine with her guilt for betraying her allies Scorpia (Lauren Ash) and Entrapta (Christine Woods), leads Catra to an emotional breakdown.

Thee fifth and final season of She-Ra opens with Catra still plagued by loneliness and self-doubt. She starts to form a bond with Prime's captor Glimmer (Karen Fukuhara), seeing her guilt reflected by Glimmer's regret for trying to use the Heart of Etheria's power. Eventually, Catra learns about Adora's impending rescue attempt and the villainous Prime's plants to capture her once she arrives. Ultimately, all the feelings and circumstances surrounding Catra clash together as she remembers a childhood promise that she and Adora would always be friends. The revelation that she loves Adora finally causes Catra to turn and do "one good thing," protect Adora. She frees Glimmer to prevent Adora from walking into Prime's trap; thus, Catra becomes the Horde's prisoner.

Adora's character arch is much less tragic than Catra. The "frenemies" clash multiple times throughout the early seasons with an ever-shifting dynamic that hints at their intricate relationship and confused romantic feelings. But, at the end of season three, Catra's reckless plan against Adora almost leads to Eternia's destruction. As Catra taunts and blames Adora for her suffering, Adora seemingly ends their conflicted relationship, noting that Catra's misdeeds are all her own, "You made your choice, now live with it."

In the final season, Adora has lost the powers of She-Ra. But, she continues to charge into battle headfirst, exposing herself and her tendencies to put other's wellbeing before her own. This tactic mirrors why Adora left Catra's side in the first place all the way back in the first season. She places more importance on duty and service to others than herself and her friend. Later, while Adora, Bow (Marcus Scribner), and Entrapta are traveling towards Horde Prime, Catra sends a signal to their ship, apologizing for everything she has done while teleporting Glimmer to them. Adora decides that she cannot leave Catra behind, and the Best-Friend Squad hurries to rescue Catra from the Horde. Adora saves Catra not only from Prime's vile clutches but her loneliness too. Adora's exclamation "You matter to me" is a powerful and victorious moment, as the two friends turned enemies unite, and acknowledge their connection.

Unfortunately, even after the Adora and Catra are together again, conflict continues to rise between them and with themselves. Catra feels unlovable because of her past and so convinces herself that Adora will not accept her feelings. She continues to struggle with abandonment, especially when Adora willingly takes the responsibility of a suicide mission to destroy the Heart of Etheria, yelling, "It doesn't always have to be you." Sadly, Adora again abandons her, putting the good of everyone else above herself and Catra. Acknowledging that Adora, "Always sacrifices everything for everyone else," Catra runs away. However, upon realizing that Prime is moments away from taking control of the Heart and killing Adora, Shadow Weaver and her run to rescue the girl she loves.

As Adora journeys to the Heart, she sees and an illusion of Catra, envisioning that her friend meets her to approach the suicide mission together. Soon, Adora faces a vision of Mara (Zehra Fazal), the previous She-Ra, who tells her that she does not always need to sacrifice herself and is deserving of love too. She becomes trapped without her powers by a first-ones' guardian until Catra and Shadow Weaver save her. Telling Adora to go on, Catra stays to fight the beast in vain. Moments before destroying the Heart and herself, Adora finally chooses to return to Catra, to put Catra and her own happiness over her sense of duty.

As Adora and Catra approach the Heart, the former almost succumbs to Prime's power and has one final vision. Adora dreams of living a life in peace in Brightmoon alongside her friends, Glimmer and Bow, and with her loving, playful partner Catra by her side. In the apparent final moments before her death, Catra reaches out to Adora. At last, the two confess their love for each other and embrace in a momentous kiss, restoring She-Ra's power to Adora. Renewed in strength and standing beside her beloved, Adora finally destroys Horde Prime. The series ends as Adora and Catra plan to travel together and restore magic to the universe and fades to black as the couple prepares to take their next journey together.

as Adora and Catra plan to travel together and restore magic to the universe and fades to black as the couple prepares to take their next journey together.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power has always been a powerhouse of LGBTQ representation, especially the final season. For example, it heavily features former background characters and married couple Spinnerella and Netossa in leading roles, as Netossa attempts to recover her wife’s mind from Prime. However, the relationship between Catra and Adora is not only the series highlight but a revolutionary in LGBTQ representation in children's television.

LGBTQ history in children's media and cartoons is disappointingly brief and, at times, unpleasant. Early examples mostly featured coded queer characters with harmful and stereotypical traits, such as the Silver Spooner from Dexter's Laboratory. Some works were able to include less harmful depictions. Networks allowed characters like Richie from Static Shock, who is gay, to exist as long as their identity was kept extremely subtextual.

Slowly some more limited progress was made, and a few less offensive or hidden characters were permitted to appear in one-off and minor roles. Nelvana's Canadian animated sitcom, 6teen included many vague but most neutral references to homosexuality and eventually a one-off character Jean, who says that she is "gay" and has a girlfriend. Notably, this 2009-episode marks not only one of the first moments of a character confirming their sexuality but also using the word "gay." This feat is so rarely replicated even in LGBTQ family media that even giants like Steven Universe do not include it. Outside of pedantic educational programs on minor networks, it may be the only time someone said "the-G-word" in such media until 2019's Kippo and the Age of Wonderbeasts  (live-action sitcom Andi Mack on Disney Channel also used the term that year). Sadly, American showings cut 6Teen's references to homosexuality, and the episode featuring Jean never aired at all outside Canada.

When most people look back to the beginning of the recent small boom in cartoon LGBTQ representation, they point to The Legend of Korra. In 2014, the series finally ended with female leads Korra and Asami taking hands and going on a private vacation in the spirit world. The Korra moment set the LGBTQ fandom on fire. Even so, the show faced incredible resistance and backlash. After the final episode aired, creator Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino had to go online to confirm that the somewhat ambiguous finale indeed depicted a same-sex romance. They then began to face backlash from a section of the fandom who believed bringing this badass bisexual moment to television was only for fanservice or to forward an agenda.

The Legend of Korra was a revolution in modern children's television, putting cracks in the oppressive dam that kept such dynamics out of the limelight and slowly pushed back against the status quo, allowing for more LGBTQ representation. Now, over five years after Korra, numerous children's programs feature queer characters in minor and supporting roles, often more explicitly than Korra was able to do. The Loud House includes a main bisexual character, and there are queer characters and couples in multiple works, including but not limited to Gravity Falls, Adventure Time, and Craig of the Creek.

The most notable LGBTQ representation in a children's cartoon comes from Rebeca Sugar's incredible creation, Steven Universe. As with She-Ra, LGBTQ characters make up a large portion of the cast and it features several groundbreaking LGBTQ scenes, including the iconic wedding of Ruby and Sapphire.

Sadly, many of these works had to fight tooth and nail or suffer through horrific backlash because of their dedication to diversity. Alabama banned an episode of Arthur that featured a gay wedding, and the depiction of lesbian mothers in Clifford the Bid Red Dog caused some parents and organizations to speak out against it. Perhaps most famous of all, Rebecca Sugar had to struggle to put LGBTQ representation on the small screen. Ultimately, to make the wedding scene happen, Sugar had to lay everything on the table and was willing to see themselves separated from the show and have it end to bring their vision to life. Unfortunately, many other countries censor the show to remove LGBTQ content. Still, Sugar's tireless work has pushed the boundaries of LGBTQ representation in children's media so incredibly far, allowing shows like She-Ra to exist.

The recent rapid progress of LGBTQ representation becomes apparent when comparing She-Ra to the "originator," Korra. The series share similar themes and mutually place importance on diversity in its main cast. At the climax of both programs, two female main characters became romantic partners for the other. However, the differences are what truly sets them apart and highlights the progress representation has made. Back in 2014, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes was the most action Korra could feature.

However, a myriad of queer characters and identities perforate She-Ra, all of which are more apparent and obvious thanks to actions including kisses, confessions, and other actions. This difference is especially true in season five, where even the title cards feature Netossa and Spinnerella engaged in a passionate kiss. Of course, the main couple was permitted a full on-screen confession and kiss, as Catra and Adora locked lips in the final episode. Finally, many "critics" complained that Korra and Asami's relationship came out of nowhere, despite it progressing the show’s last two seasons. If one were to assert the same claim about She-Ra, they need to completely ignore how Stevenson built Adora and Catra's romantic relationship as a fundamental aspect of the show from the very start.

She-Ra's depiction of queer characters was deliberate, explicit, and incredible. Not only did LGBTQ side characters express their identities in a variety of ways, but the main couple also got to show their love with both words and a kiss. Furthermore, and perhaps even more importantly, the main couple in She-Ra got a happen ending and a future for them and the viewers to imagine and look towards with excitement. Sadly, many LGBTQ characters and couples do not get to experience such conclusions. For decades, queer relationships ended in tragedy, often with the death of one or more queer characters killed off as part of the "bury your gays" trope. Even if the characters live, narratives rarely provided a happy future for those with queer identities. Sadly, this trend is alive and well. Recent examples include Adam from Voltron: Legendary Defender and Annika and Neha from The Dragon Prince.

Stevenson actively set out to avoid this trope in She-Ra, telling the Los Angeles Times, "I can't see another gay character die on TV for the moment." Not only did she not kill Adora and Catra, or any of the show's other queer characters, she gave Adora and Catra, the two lesbian leads in love, a happy ending. The show even offers viewers and Adora a glimpse of one possible future for the couple in the final vision of domestic bliss in Brightmoon. Both Adora and Catra struggle and suffered greatly, but they were allowed a happy ending and the opportunity to look forward to a life together. For the two main characters of a children's cartoon to achieve such a fantastic ending in such an explicit way is a genuinely revolutionary moment of representation, proudly standing alongside defining scenes like and Ruby and Sapphire’s wedding in Steven Universe. Importantly, both shows are made by queer creators, showing young viewers that people like them can achieve and create great things and that there are those out there fighting for them. For these reasons, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is one of the single most significant works of LGBTQ representation in children's media.

Queer representation in children's media matters so much, likely more than it does in any other medium. It normalizes LGBTQ identities for families and sends a powerful message to all LGBTQ children who may be feeling sad or alone or sacred: 'You are not alone, you matter, and you are accepted.' These words, implied with every positive depiction of queer identities, save so many children and young adults from unnecessary suffering and sometimes even saves lives. Noelle Stevenson and She-Ra will likely create giant waves in the medium just as Steven Universe did before it, and generations of queer people, myself included, wait with bated breath to see what results from it.

[pokemoncreepypasta]

Nasty Plot

[STORY SOURCE]

Does anyone remember that old Celebi event from 2011, released around the end of February?

There wasn't really anything notable about the Celebi itself, it wasn't shiny or anything, and its moveset really wasn't all that notable or special... Well, except for that ONE move.

When you put it on your HeartGold/SoulSilver game, it triggered some sort of in-game event that I had no idea how to access. Nobody ever told me what I was supposed to do, but I had no idea that it'd be anything like THIS.

It all started after I eagerly rushed in and out of GameStop to receive my adorable Celebi. It was one of my favorite Pokémon, and I was ready to play with it as soon as I got home.

When I started up my game, I gasped when I didn't see it in my party. I panicked for a moment, until I remembered I just had to go to the Pokémart to get it, and was relieved. I happily hummed to myself as I ran to the Goldenrod City's huge Pokémart place.

I talked to the delivery man. I didn't even pay attention to what he said and just skipped through all of his text.

Once all was said and done, I opened up my party. I went into a squealing fit when I saw Celebi sitting at the bottom.

I switched my new Celebi to the front of my party and then exited out of the menu. I ran out of the store and immediately turned around and talked to it.

”CELEBI seems to be feeling great about walking with you!”

I talked to it again.

”Woah! CELEBI suddenly hugged you!”

I squealed as I read that text. My Celebi already loved me!

I raced out of the town and went into the tall grass. I ran into a wild Drowzee.

"Psh, that's easy to beat..." I whispered to myself.

I selected fight and looked at Celebi's moveset. Leaf Storm, Recover, Nasty Plot, and Healing Wish.

I clicked on Leaf Storm. Leaves started swirling onto the screen, and knocked out the Drowzee in one hit. Celebi's Special Attack lowered afterwards. The battle ended.

I opened the menu and looked at Celebi's summary. I clicked on its moves. I then realized that Leaf Storm was the only move that did any damage, and it only had 5 PP. I decided that I wouldn't use Celebi for battle much, but I still wanted to play with it.

I took a moment to think about what I could do with it that didn't involve battling.

Then an idea hit me, "Pokéathlon!" I shouted out loud to myself. I ran to the Pokéathlon Dome and entered the Speed contest.

Celebi, Yam Yams the Yanma, and Dune the Dunsparce practically owned the entire competition.

I entered the contest again. When I next checked the clock I realized I had been playing the game for an hour already. I decided that maybe I should take a break.

Just as I was about to turn off the game though, I received a call from the Daycare Man. He had an egg for me.

I remembered that I had a Ditto and Eevee in the Daycare that I had forgotten about, so I raced back to Goldenrod City and went to the Pokémon Center.

I put all of my party Pokémon in the PC except for Celebi, just in case I wanted to hatch more than one egg.

Once I was done, I went to the Daycare Man. After hurriedly skipping through his lines of text, he handed me my egg.

"Alright, now we just gotta hatch it!" I told my Celebi, despite the fact that I was speaking to an inanimate object. I ran in circles for several minutes, then into Goldenrod, then back out.

I clicked on the egg's summary and sighed. This was going to take a lot longer than I originally thought.

I decided I would randomly battle a Pokémon for the heck of it. I ran into the tall grass and another wild Drowzee appeared.

I clicked on fight. I was about to select Leaf Storm, but I decided I would try out Nasty Plot just for the heck of it. I selected the move.

Puffs of smoke and questions marks appeared around Celebi. Then a hand pointing upwards popped above its head. Its Special Attack rose.

Drowzee tried to use Hypnosis, but it missed.

I selected Nasty Plot again for no reason. The smoke and question marks appeared once more, then the hand. Drowzee used Hypnosis again, but missed.

I used Nasty Plot one more time, just because I could. Same animation as before. Drowzee still attacked and missed.

I used Leaf Storm this time around. The Drowzee fell with no problem. Celebi gained its boosted experience, and the battle ended.

Not thinking anything of the battle, I went straight back to walking around to hatch my egg.

I walked over to the Daycare Man and noticed that he had another egg for me. I talked to him and skipped through his text like usual and received my egg.

As soon as I got my egg, an exclamation point appeared above Celebi's head. It nudged my trainer. She turned around.

My trainer turned south and stared down the route. Celebi slowly inched towards my character, then quickly retreated. Nothing happened for a minute. Then I realized I was in control now.

"Well, that was weird..." I muttered to myself.

I talked to Celebi again.

”CELEBI is a picture of innocence!”

I didn't really understand what that meant.

I opened the menu and clicked on my party. Instead of two eggs like I was expecting, there was only one.

"Where's my other egg..?" I thought.

I exited the menu and talked to the Daycare Man to see if there was some mistake of some kind. He informed me that my Pokémon were doing just fine, and that they didn't seem to like each other. I pouted.

I turned around and talked to Celebi again, to see if maybe it could help me.

”CELEBI is a picture of innocence!” 

That information didn't help me much.

I sighed and gave up. I couldn't think of anything else that could help me get my egg back. I decided I would just run around and try to hatch the one egg I did have.

After a couple of minutes of running in circles I got another call from the Daycare Man. He said he had another egg for me. I was already standing by him, so I walked a few steps and spoke to him. He said the usual, then gave me my egg.

As soon as I received it though, an exclamation point appeared above Celebi's head. It nudged me the same way it did last time. My trainer turned to it, saying that Celebi pointed to something in the distance.

My trainer turned down the path again, and Celebi slowly inched towards her, and then I was in control again.

I immediately went to my party. Again there was only Celebi and one egg.

"What keeps happening to my other egg..?" I asked to myself, which lead to nothing. I exited out of the menu and talked to Celebi.

The same text appeared as before. I scowled, and talked to it again. "CELEBI is a picture of innocence!" Again, "CELEBI is a picture of innocence!" No matter how many times I talked it kept saying the same thing over and over again.

I really didn't know how to react. I was a little creeped out, but not much. I decided it would be best to just shrug it off and keep playing. I started running around a bit more, not really knowing what else to do.

After a single minute I got very bored, and talked to my Celebi again.

”CELEBI is thinking.”

”CELEBI got an idea!”

I waited to see what it would do, but nothing happened.

I checked on my egg to see how close it was to hatching. It was turning out to hatch a lot sooner than I had expected. I exited out of the menu and took a step.

"Oh?" The textbox appeared.

It took me to the scene where my egg hatches. I squealed as I waited for my new baby Eevee to hatch. It cracked, cracked, popped open...

“Nothing hatched from the Egg!”

Nothing was in the egg.

"Hey, what gives?!" I yelled at my DS as the screen started to fade away.

Once it was back at the overworld, I looked at my party. There was only Celebi. I exited and talked to Celebi.

”CELEBI is a picture of innocence!”

I glared at it, wishing that it would fess up and admit it had done something. I kept talking to it over and over, but this time it kept saying the same thing over and over.

I eventually gave up. I ran into Goldenrod and went into the Pokémon Center. I went inside and talked to it one last time.

”Huh? CELEBI is holding something...”

“Would you like to take it?”

I was a bit shocked, and clicked yes.

”Oh! It seems just too important to let go!”

I scowled and went to the PC.

I put Celebi in and replaced it with my female Umbreon, Angel.

I left the Pokémon Center and went to the Pokéathlon Dome. I thought that maybe if I played there for a while and left Celebi alone for a bit, then it might go back to normal. I entered a couple of contests, but failed at most of them. I couldn't focus straight.

After playing for only about thirty minutes, which isn't long for me, I decided I wanted to pick up the rest of my team and proceed with the game's story.

When I went into the PC, I gasped. None of my Pokémon were in there.

Except for Celebi.

I selected Celebi and put it in the first of my party.

I was on the verge of just releasing Celebi, but before I could consider it, I realized that Celebi was holding an item, which it was suspiciously hiding behind its back, no doubt.

"Stake..? What the heck?!"

”Stake can’t be taken away.”

I tried taking it away to investigate, but it didn't work.

I was now completely confused at everything that was going on. I scowled and exited the menu. I talked to Celebi one last time.

”CELEBI is a picture of innocence!” 

I highly doubted that.

I walked out of the Pokéathlon Dome. Not long after I had taken a couple of steps I got a call. It was from Joey. He talked about his top percentage Rattata, as usual.

”CELEBI wants to meet Joey!”

When he was done talking, Celebi nudged my trainer and prompted this text, along with a Yes/No option. I selected no and continued walking. I was still pretty fed up at Celebi having gotten rid of all my Pokémon, and I wasn't about to cater to its requests.

But after a few more steps Celebi nudged my trainer again. I selected no once more, then walked a few more steps.

But I was stopped again. I sighed and selected yes. I didn't really have much left to lose anyways.

My trainer started to spin like when you use an escape rope. She teleported in front of Joey. He started talking to my trainer without me pressing anything. I wasn't given a yes or no option.

Instead Celebi snuck up behind Joey, then quickly flew back to my trainer.

I was then given a yes or no option. I selected yes, thinking it was the best answer.

The battle started. Joey threw out a Pokéball.

“Youngster Joey sent out nothing!”

But instead of his prized Rattata coming out, nothing appeared on the screen.

My trainer threw Celebi out.

Before I could select anything, Joey's sprite moved back onscreen.

“My RATTATA! Where is it?!”

The battle then slowly faded to black.

Once it got back to the overworld, Joey spoke.

“My RATTATA... It’s gone...!!”

Joey's sprite started moving around, as if he was searching for his lost Pokémon. I immediately turned to Celebi.

”CELEBI is a picture of innocence!”

I was getting really annoyed at this Celebi, even more than I already was.

Celebi suddenly flew away from my trainer. I was wondering what it ran away for.

That was when I noticed the POKÉDEX, trainer card, BAG, and POKÉGEAR options in the menu were missing.

I growled out loud and started to chase after Celebi. It was waiting for me just off screen. As soon as it saw me though, it started to fly away. I chased it in circles for several minutes, but it was always much faster than my trainer.

I eventually just stopped.

After a few moments, Celebi floated back over to my trainer. I talked to it again, but the only thing I got out of it was the urge to strangle that legendary so badly right then.

I opened the menu and looked at my party. Angel was missing.

"Alright, that's the last straw..!!" I gripped my DS so tight I nearly broke it in two. I exited out of the menu and thought about what to do for a moment. That was when one of the biggest light bulbs ever went off in my head.

I turned my DS off.

I hadn't saved the game since I had received Celebi from the delivery man, which I was very thankful for now. I sighed in relief, thankful for it all to be over.

I turned my DS back on. When I got to the menu, I selected "Continue".

When it had finished loading though, my trainer was standing in the middle of virtually nothing. Everything was black.

Before I could react properly, Celebi floated up to my trainer.

I talked to it, prompting its now signature catchphrase. A heart icon appeared above its head.

Then it quickly floated away, and my game froze. I tried moving, pressing every button, but nothing would work. I turned my DS off, hoping that my save file would work this time around. When the title screen loaded back up, I pressed start.

”The save file will be erased due to corruption or damage.”

I threw my DS to the side and screamed into my pillow. I wildly thrashed my arms and legs about like a possessed child.

Once I had finished letting my anger out, and my throat had become sore from too much screaming, I sat up. Tears began streaming down my face. I sat there and cried my heart out.

After several minutes, I had stopped crying. Although still sniffling, I grabbed my DS. I went back to the menu and selected, "New Game".

When it loaded, I was shocked to see that I was in Goldenrod City, with Angel right behind me.

As soon as I took one step, I got a call from the Daycare Man. He said he had an egg for me.

I ran to the Daycare. I talked to the Daycare Man, slowly going through his text this time, and I received my egg. Afterwards, I opened my party to look at my egg, just to make sure it was still there.

When I opened my party, I breathed a sigh of relief. My game was back to normal, and I could finally hatch my long-awaited Eevee.

Maybe it's just because I had gone through so much emotional torture just to obtain it, but I had a really good feeling about this egg.

Whatever this Eevee was when it hatched, I vowed to cherish it.

After running around for several minutes, my eyes sparkled with hope as it prepared to hatch.

But I was met with a horrifying wake up call...

“CELEBI hatched from the Egg!”

"No... Nooo!!!"

I scowled to see that familiar face next to me in the overworld. I checked my party, and Angel was gone yet again.

I spoke to the little devil just to see what it had to say for itself, and it replied with one simple thing...

“CELEBI is a picture of innocence!”

[noirineverysense]

Trio of idiots arc

She checks her phone and notices a few missed calls and some text messages. Unsurprisingly it's all from the same person, Zak, with a text from Ash buried in them to pick up some groceries on the way back. She blinks, thinking whether she should open this can of worms now or during her lunch break. It could just be Zak excited about the bot fight again, or something more serious. She checks the text messages.

it's another! she's another! a mutant like us!

The grammar is horrible, and Zak uses way too many exclamation marks. He does that when he's in his nervous but excited moods, though the next messages tell her he's learning more on the former.

she just yelled it in the lunch hall people heard her is she insane i can't deal with this alone you have to help me

It doesn't occur to Zak to use commas. It never does. She should make him use commas. It's an important skill.

She supposes she's fussing about Zak's grammar to allay her own worries. This could get messy, and she didn't want to involve the others in another mess, the ACP seemed to be settling down into its quiet inordinaries, not to mention the three of them still had moving boxes to unpack.

She squints at the texts, it also didn't occur to Zak to tell her who this person even was. She supposed she'll find out soon enough.

Listen, tell me about it when we get home. Bring her too if she wants. And make sure to keep her from telling anyone else.

She puts down her phone and looks back at her computer screen. The same blank Excel sheet open. She didn't particularly like this admin job, but it was at a media company and they said she could work her way up. She would end up with her job soon, she just had to be patient.

She was good at being patient.

Her phone lights up and its Zak with another spiel of nervousness but she gets the general idea that he'd bring her over so she texts Ash in case he decides he's having one of his shirtless days. She didn't particularly mind those days and Zak definitely didn't, but their guest might.

"You look busy."

She jolts, her head spins to her manager with an unamused look on her face.

"Sorry, Ma'am, I'll get right on it."

Funny how she escaped years of captivity to find herself working hours a day under an uncompromising superior for little pay. She supposed it was a little better, after all it was a 9-5 rather than a 24/7 torture experience.

Her manager lets out a huff, then says in a rather reluctant tone, "The boss wants to see you."

She nods and gets up to walk towards the office of the company boss. There's a horrible sense of familar dread rising in her.

"The worst he can do is fire you. The worst he can do is fire you."

Great, now she's mumbling to herself like a maniac.

She takes a breath and opens the office door. Her boss, which she would describe in an article as a stout man of a cheery disposition, brightens as she enters.

"Ms. Reyes! Please come in."

She winces at the name as she follows the instruction. It's common enough to not arouse suspicion and Arthur was kind enough to give it to her. But it doesn't really sound like her name. She doesn't want Zak's though and she'd die before becoming a Vittal.

"I've an opportunity for you!"

She blinks, "What do you mean?"

Please say it, please say it.

"I want you to cover a story. I thought you deserved the chance."

"Oh, thank you! I won't let you down." This is great. She didn't expect this so soon.

"Of course not. Though I'll warn you, you were only given this because the others didn't want to deal with the person I'm asking you to interview without a bonus."

So she's been given the dirty work. Fine, she can take on anyone. No one could be worse than -

"Kamal Vittal, the new CEO of the international wholesaler, Metals, Molecules & More, is known for his unsavoury personality. Perhaps you could go down that angle, would people really want to follow a man who some might describe as off-putting? Well, whatever your approach, I'm sure you're ready to jump right on the job."

The world starts to spin in a way that she's worried it'll all go dark. She thinks she's about to jump out of the window instead.

[myhoneststudyblr]

i received an ask from @sunset-study asking me how to annotate texts so i thought i would do a post giving some of my tips! as an English literature student, i spend a lot of my time doing annotations on loads of different types of texts so i think i have some good advice that i can give. i hope that you will find this helpful and if you have any other questions, please feel free to send me an ask!

disclaimer: these are my personal tips and experiences and i’m sure that there are many more that are relevant. i have tried to do a little bit of research to get some other ideas which hopefully will make this a useful post but as always i appreciate others adding their opinions and advice in the comments!

[Estimated Reading Time: 7 minutes]

What is covered:

General Tips

Things to look for

Specific Tips for Annotating Novels

Specific Tips for Annotating Plays

Specific Tips for Annotating Poetry

Other resources

General Tips

don't just highlight. this is very passive and often you will not really be taking in what is important. 

pencils are great for annotating. if you are anything like me, when you are annotating, you often are doing it as the thoughts come into your mind so a pencil allows you some leeway to erase and refine ideas. also when you are writing in a book, i personally do not have enough confidence to write in pen.

don’t annotate extensively the first time you read. often on a first read, you don't see the recurring imagery or features because you don't have the whole context so don't annotate deeply the first time you read something. that said, it can often be good to jot some questions in the margins that you have because these can be useful to remind you of your thoughts when you reread. 

think of some symbols to indicate important or interesting parts. for example, if it is a dramatic section, i will box it off and put a big exclamation mark. or if something is confusing or unclear, use a question mark. i tend to put a star for a section that is important. you could think of symbols for humour, foreshadowing, particular themes or characters etc.

actually respond to the text. this seems like an obvious one but a lot of the time, because we are taught in schools all these fancy techniques, when we see one of them in a text we just highlight them and note that its a metaphor or simile or foreshadowing. what you should try to do is explain - briefly - why that is important and its effect. also if you have any personal reaction to it, note that down as well because this can be really helpful when writing essays because it shows that you’ve actually engaged with the text. 

practice, practice, practice. annotation is a skill and honestly it can be quite difficult because you need to often read between the lines and summarise, while also analysing. so take some time to focus on this skill and create your own method and shorthand.

Things to look for:

structure. are the paragraphs long? is sentence varied or does it remain quite consistent? are there any repeated words or phrases? what is the overall shape of the text? where does the narrative start? does the focus shift anywhere? 

language. what are the literary devices used in the text? if so, what is their effect? has the author used a particular semantic field? are there any usual words? are there repeated words? are there any individual words that stand out to you? what are the connotations of these words? are there any words that you don’t know? if so, what do they mean? is there any unusual syntax? 

characterisation and voice. who is speaking in the text? if it is third person, how ‘close’ or ‘distant’ are we to the character? can we trust the character? are they an unreliable narrator? what are their key features? do any of these features link to key themes? if so, where is that shown in the text? is the author using a particular voice in order to get a specific reaction?

themes. what themes is the author exploring? where does the author explore these themes? are particular opinions (either by a character or perhaps the implied opinion of the author) expressed on the themes? are there any words or phrases that link closely to this theme?

Specific Tips for Annotating Novels

SUMMARISE REGULARLY

a novel is often long and there is a lot of stuff to cover throughout it so it is really important to keep making sure that you understand what is going on. summarising will also help you when revising.

for example, after each chapter quickly summarise the key points in a few sentences - which characters were important, did the plot move forward in any important ways, what themes were explored.

you could either do this on a post it note or if you have space on the last page of the chapter. make sure that it is not too long. a few sentences is absolutely fine.

KEEP A LIST OF CHARACTERS 

characters are obviously very important in a novel so make sure you know who’s who and where they come into the book. you could write the list of characters or a little character map on the inside cover of the book, which you can refer to if necessary.

COLOUR CODE

i personally don't colour code that often when annotating. i usually only do it in important scenes and moments where there is a lot going on and things can get very confusing. that said, colour coding can be particularly useful to keep track of themes in the novel.

there are many different ways that you can do this. for example you could have a particular highlighter colour for each theme. you could also put coloured sticky tabs on the page so you can quickly find the themes throughout the novel. 

Specific Tips for Annotating Plays

This is mostly the same for novels so take all of the tips above and apply them to the play you are studying with two main - VERY IMPORTANT - additions:

NOTE THE DRAMATIC FUNCTION

a play is written to be performed and this has a huge impact on the text, because it can affect how we interpret a particular character, theme or scene. 

so it is SO SO important that you remember that it is being performed and think about the different ways that it could be acted and how the audience could respond to it. 

on that note, remember that every performance, actor and audience is different so try to think of ALL the ways it could be played and how our interpretation could differ

PAY ATTENTION TO STAGE DIRECTIONS

this is a related point to the one above. my GCSE English teacher used to go on about this all. the. time. because it is so easy to overlook them and not consider them a real part of the text. BUT they are such a key part because they can give hints to performance as well as the atmosphere which might otherwise be difficult to discern just by reading the dialogue. they can also be good ways to demonstrate character traits

Specific Tips for Annotating Poetry

NOTE GENERAL FEATURES (STRUCTURE, RHYMING, METER, CONTEXT, THEMES, ETC.) SOMEWHERE SEPARATE 

poems are obviously much shorter than plays and novels so they are often packed full of interesting language points to annotate. therefore if you try to add in all of this other stuff in your annotations using arrows, it is likely that it is going to get very full and confusing. 

therefore, i would suggest only directly annotating language features for the poem and writing your notes on the more general features of the poem elsewhere - for example on a post-it note, or if there is a bunch of white-space under the poem. then it is easy to find and refer to but won't mix with your annotations and make it confusing so that you feel that you need to rewrite more notes on the whole poem 

if there is a particular word or phrase that is important for the above features (for example, links significantly with the context or has unusual - and therefore probably significant - meter) you can notes this on the text using arrows but keep it specific and short. you can expand on it in more depth in your general notes

IDENTIFY THE TONE AND MOOD OF THE POEM

this is good to identify because it can help you focus on the language that is important and helps you to interpret the meaning. 

THINK ABOUT THE SOUND OF THE POEM

poems are usually meant to be lyrical and rhythmic in some way and read aloud. so think about how these words sound when you read it (are they harsh or soft) and consider the rhythm that the poet creates through punctuation. it could be helpful to consider a poem like the lyrics of a song and imagine what it would sound like if it were set to music 

rhyming is an important part of this and you could note - just for your own reference - the rhyme scheme (if there is one) using letters at the end of the line. but again, referring back to tip one of this section, talk about the rhyme scheme in greater depth elsewhere so as not to clutter your notes 

Other Resources

there are so many resources that you can find on the internet about annotation but here are just a couple that i thought were useful:

Annotation Guide Produced for AP Language Students

BBC Bitesize GCSE Revision Page on Annotating Texts

General How to Annotate Guide (Note: this is not just for literature but also for textbooks but has some great tips)

Annotating Poetry Guide

[kyoupann]

Please do more of the writing head canons. It’s really interesting to see other people’s ideas on the topic, so if you can be bothered, I would highly appreciate more, thanks bye <3

Y’all don’t know how happy I am to talk about these headcanons, they are my babies and I love them so much :’) thanks for asking g <3

Handwriting Headcanons

Same dynamic as before, try to guess whose handwriting it is before reading and tell me how many you got right! <3

You can find the first post here (no need to check it tho)

Quick disclaimer: halfway through making my initial notes, I remembered I had one (1) single lesson of graphology in my applied linguistics class, but that was a year ago and some information might be off. I just thought it was neat to include.

Another quick disclaimer: I don’t know much about Hylian, but I like to think it has a similar stroke system to Japanese, so the pressure and accuracy of your strokes play a major role in your handwriting (among other things, ofc.) so there are some parts where I focus more on that

(First Row, from left to right)

Sky

Our first boy is mother hen! Believe it or not, he has the prettiest handwriting out of all of them! Sky: probably has nice, even elegant handwriting because Sun forced him to practice when they were little. In the end, that paid off because his handwriting is the prettiest one. There’s no pressure, but he is confident in what he writes that his lines aren’t thin. Mistakes? what is that? this boy has impeccable grammar and spelling. No mechanic errors to be found in his letters! I’d like to think that many of Hyrule’s classic/staple poems were originally written by the firt king aka sky child. Like, imagine, after a retiring from being a Person of Power (as the first ruler), Sky finds comfort in the arts: revisits his old woodcarvings and starts writing poetry about the world he still doesn’t fully understand. wowie. tldr: sky writes poetry and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

This is what one of his letters would look like: 

Next one is the one and only, our Hero of Time

2. Time

I’ll die on the “Time didn’t know how to read and write” hill. His handwriting is simple, not pretty but not messy. It has some grammar and spelling mistakes here and there. Can become unreadable if writing in a hurry, he sorts of forgets spaces between words are a thing/letters have different sizes and lowercase letters end up the same size as capital letters. I’m not saying he sometimes forgets to write articles: he just doesn’t want to. Honestly, he just has this dad-neat handwriting. He is a gentle dad and writes like a dad, if he puts too much pressure onto the paper, his handwriting become too sharp/angle-ish and ends up looking ugly. And as much as he would like to not care about it, in the end he does (:

Malon taught him how to write and it was quite the experience. At first he didn’t want to because he was ‘too old’ to learn and it was torture at first, but now look at him devouring his cowboy novels. 

A chunk of his handwriting: 

*sniff* such a dad quote.

3. my mansss, your  4x1 deal at Target: Four

Look, my boy is patient! He could do some nice and fancy lettering if he wanted to. He was taught that handwriting and spelling said a whole lot about him as a person, you know, like a first impression kinda thing; so he always proof reads more than twice before sending ­a letter. Super rare grammar mistakes.

The faster he writes, the more slant his writing becomes. Under stress/ when not sure how to write things down, run-on sentences are everywhere and his handwriting is inconsistent in general (I don’t headcanon each part of him having completely different handwriting because handwriting becomes muscle memory over time. It’s just slightly different variations of the same, like idk  Vio’s handwriting is neater than Green’s and Red writes hearts instead of any dot/circle and no, I do not take constructive criticism on that, jk i do.) Adding on to each of the colours’ handwriting, I’d think Red and Green write with words slanted to the right( inclined), Vio is a mix of the opposite, so reclined and straight, and my mans blue a true neutral writes straight (kinda like Time’s).

The logic behind this is that inclined writing supposedly means honesty and need for giving (and getting) affection; reclined means, as you can probably imagine,  defensiveness and repression of true feelings, but also shows great concentration; straight handwriting means self-control, observation and reflection as well as distrust and indifference. But as complete being (tm), Four just writes as in the image example which is not too straight and not too inclined, and I believe that’s a good middle for him

HOWEVER, if I’m feeling in the mood for crack, I totally accept this boy to have the ugliest, chicken scratches-looking handwriting! :’D It’s just funny to think that someone like him, who has to be precise and careful in his work, can't write neatly to save his life. 

One of his letters would look like this: 

Also I just LOVE how his hero titles look in this font ksksks

and that’s

(Middle row, from left to right)

4.- Mister Bunny Boy - Legend

His uncle taught him how to write. I’d call his handwriting pretty and neat at a first glance, but he presses too hard on the paper, most of the time staining the back or the following page. Sometimes will retrace some words if he doesn’t like how it looks (which only makes it messier). According to my notes, a thick or strong handwriting represents determination/commitment.

As I also headcanon him to know many languages, mechanical errors are more present than grammar ones; that is, weird capitalisation of words. Punctuation is somewhere in between; uses too many commas when he should just cut the sentence. he mixes punctuation from two languages or more in writing when too distracted (or too focused, because, well, pressure.); when he writes for himself, he has almost no problem following said language’s punctuation rules. Also, this is just polyglot culture, and I’m projecting a bit, but when he forgets a word in the language he’s writing, he just replaces it with its equivalent in another language because we don’t care about fluency, but rather functionality. in this household (more on that in my language hc, ksksks).

An example of his writing:

so powerful

4.-  Mr. Wolfman, howl me a song - Twilight

I don’t have much for him because 1) I don’t think he writes a lot and 2) he is a hands-on/visual learner, I’ll die by that. He only learnt how to write because Ulli insisted it was important and he was not about to disrespect his momma; he IS That Guy, but doesn’t really write enough to have neat handwriting.

Many people seem to overlook the fact that his house is filled with books and write him as completely illiterate (which if not explored properly, ends up feeling a bit disrespectful and full of prejudice, but go off I guess; and that’s on my core Headcanons for Twi); however, he sticks to simple sentences. Knowing how to read and understanding a text is different from knowing how to write them. Like, when we would see a semicolon and understand its position in the text, but didn’t understand the nature of it. Is this clear? idk i’m sorry. So yeah, boy reads a lot, writes very little.

As for his Actual Handwriting, as opposed to Legend, his handwriting is thiccc but not because he presses into the paper; he is just that messy, he has no sense of ink-flow-control, he does what he can with what he has. To the untrained eye, his handwriting illegible letters like v, n, u are very similar; when he makes notes for himself he does it in the form of doodles or small ‘icons’. But! He reads a lot, so he rarely makes spelling mistakes (: he is your go-to guy when you don’t know how to write a word.

An example of his writing:

He keeps a journal, sue me.

3. My first born- Warrior

Okay, first off... I accept this is completely biased. I saw the idea and said “That’s True”. If you haven’t, please read Effective Communication; or The Lack of Thereof by htruona, a fic where the boys reflect on the language barriers between them. It’s incredibly funny and probably what made me start making these silly notes. So, if you’ve read that fic, you know where I’m going.

My man, Warrior, can’t fucking write. I mean, he physically can, but it’s very bad. Here’s the reason for it, tho, and it’s not his fault: Technically, he knew how to write alright but he joined the military and whatever note he had to write had to be concise or in the worst case coded. He mixes capital and lowercase letters. If we consider that he joined the military at around 15, his handwriting and grammar had yet to continue developing. Just think about how after summer break, your handwriting was always slightly worse than before because you didn’t write for an entire month. Now think what 2 years can do to that. Hmm, not cool, dude. He makes quick notes, when writing he’s all gotta go fast. he is the lighting mcqueen of writing; good for emergency messages, not ideal for love letters. His punctuation also suffered a lot, he only know full stops and commas and hardly uses them. A sentence for him is either one word or fifty without a single comma, no inbetween.

His hero title and an example of his writing.

(Bottom row, or what I like to call “fuck cursive” row)

7.- Magic man - Hyrule

I’m basic and I do agree with the popular headcanon of he not knowing how to write because well, y’all know his Hyrule. He only knows how to write his name because that’s important, same with numbers. I don’t see why would he write/read except checking the roadsigns. (he can even use this as an excuse for getting lost frequently; he thought it said something different.) But I do think that because his habitual reading consists of roadsigns, his ‘punctuation’ is weird af and places full stops/points/periods at the same level of his words and his commas/question/exclamation marks below them. Yk, creative license. Sadly, I don’t have much about my magic hands man so here’s what his writing would look like if he actually wrote a paragraph:

Man, I love Hyrule.

8.- Man, I don’t understand this boy -  Wild

Cursive? ain’t nobody have the time for that. He woke up and had to save the world in his underwear while not knowing how to read nor write.  He learnt during his journey and was taught by multiple people from different regions, that explains his inconsistent spelling of things and names for them. So Wild knows language variations for many items and uses them interchangeably (even if they aren’t exactly the same). Another headcanon related to writing/language skills that I’ve been thinking about is that if the shrine was able to cause amnesia, I’m sure there were other areas in the brain affected which leads us to language disorders such as agraphia and aphasia. But that’s a story for another day ksksksk

An example of his writing (after relearning)

9.- The best of sons - Wind

I don’t have much for him and that makes me sad. Look, he’s a kid, doing kid things like stabbing dudes on the head. This boy was taught cursive by his grandma, but could never do it and no one needs it anyway. His handwriting is good enough for his pirate life, Tetra is the one to handle Official stuff, he just gotta sign. Spelling and grammar mistakes abound. He is still relatively young and can correct his handwriting if he desires. But same as Wild, with how many times he’s been thrown out and hit his head, I’m starting to consider some language disorder for him as well.

An example of his writing:

aaand that’s it.

Thanks, y’all for showing interest in this silly thing uwu it was fun to finally talk about this. If you ever want to discuss ideas/headcanons(especially if they are related to language and culture), I’m your person (: I’m always happy to hear new headcanons. Feel free to add anything to this post either in a reply or in a reblog, I’d love to hear from y’all <3<3

[winterrose527]

have you done an Ella - museum curator, Robb - investor on a tour work??

Ummmm no I had not! And wow was this one cathartic to write. It came out way longer than expected because this is a subject near and dear to my heart...

Thank you for this prompt!!

***

She was so sick of this shit.

Over a year of it. Ever since the governor’s order in April 2020. Back then she’d almost believed it was just a blip, a couple of weeks. A vacation, almost.

But then the ban on gatherings. The shutdowns. Finally the masks.

Every museum in the country had shut its doors along with libraries, movie theaters, and every other place desperate parents could take their children on a rainy Saturday.

Theirs had been luckier than most. An endowment a few years prior, which had been earmarked but not mandated for an expansion had been used to keep the lights on and the staff fed - literally. Their programming had gone virtual and understandably attendance had dropped but not entirely – thanks to a few local artists that had generously donated their time for a last minute plug.

Ever since restrictions had lifted, the crowds had returned somewhat. A rainy spring and summer had helped, but they were nowhere near their ‘pre-pandemic’ levels (and with the Delta variant on the rise she wasn’t super comfortable with the term ‘post-pandemic’ to describe their current state of affairs).

She wouldn’t say that today though.

No, today everything would be rosy – not just the botanical gardens that abutted the museum and had been started in 1853 – no, 1854.

Not that she imagined the potential donor would be fact checking her but nevertheless there was no room for error. She needed to represent the museum well. Her colleagues were counting on her – not to mention the collection itself depended on her.

The board had decided at its most recent meeting if they didn’t get an influx of donations within this quarter they were going to sell off a few pieces from the collection.

There was nothing sadder to a museum than deaccessioning. The staff all loved and protected the collection, and they truly felt the impact they and it had on the community. Myrcella loved to walk through the galleries on Thursday afternoons to see the regulars who’d come to visit the paintings like old friends of theirs, stopping by to say hello to a Baroque oil here or an Impressionist watercolor there.

So if schmoozing yet another prospective donor was what it took to mean that Mr. Poole’s favorite still-life stayed put for his bi-weekly Wednesday morning visit, then she would schmooze. She would schmooze Sansa Stark like her life depended on it.

She knew Sansa Stark sort of. It was the sort of thing where pre-pandemic they had run into each other at half a dozen events every year and always had a lovely chat and discussed getting together and then never did. The North was a small world and they ran in similar circles. But they weren’t friends.

Still, she was her best bet. From the wealthiest and most philanthropic family in the North, of course she was.

And she had to deliver.

The board had all made it clear that they expected results, and it had been suggested that really Myrcella Baratheon shouldn’t have such a hard time finding donors. But all her usual suspects had come to her with their own sob stories full of please tell me you won’t shut your doors but without any promise of relief, and the people she knew down south – the sort that profited from the world being in such dire straits had no interest in a little regional museum. No matter how much she marketed it as a hidden jewel.

To them, there was little worth in a jewel hidden, and they had no interest in having their act of charity buried under the northern snows.

So Sansa Stark was it.

She smoothed her dress, chosen carefully for the occasion. Sansa was always impeccably dressed and favored ladylike, tailored dresses for daytime, just as Myrcella did. Today, which had turned out to be a gorgeous one, she’d chosen a pale blue scallop trim knit dress, her grandmother’s wristwatch her only accessory. Feminine but appropriate. More comfortable than the clingier dresses she only ever so occasionally wore when taking around a male potential benefactor.

“Good luck,” Gilly, their glum registrar said as she raised her wrist to her nose to make sure she could still smell the scented oil she’d spread there that morning.

“Thanks baby,” Myrcella sighed, “Lunch from that naughty salad place when I’m done? My treat?”

Gilly smiled at that, “My treat if you get her.”

“Oh, now the stakes are really high,” she teased and blew Gilly a kiss and walked through the halls.

She felt eyes on her as she went. It was a small, tight-knit team, and it made it all the harder every time she received a sheepish regret. If she couldn’t succeed, one of them might lose their job if the board couldn’t decide what to sell. Even if they could, depending on how long this lasted.

Game face, Baratheon.

She took a deep breath and then smiled for fifteen seconds. She let it drop, knowing that it would still be in her eyes when she walked outside and it felt a little more genuine when her heels clacked along the gorgeous marble floor.

Walking over to the security desk, the smile reappeared on her face.

“Morning Roddy,” she grinned.

“Good morning to you Miss Myrcella,” Rodrick greeted her, “You see the game last night?”

“You’ve known me for four years,” she noted, “When in all of that time have I ever seen the game?”

He chuckled, “There was that one time in 2018.”

“Oh no, I totally lied about that,” she assured him, shrugging, “I wanted you to think I was cool.” She then looked around the empty lobby, “No Miss Stark?”

He grimaced, “Not yet. Traffic is back though, folks still aren’t used to it.”

She nodded, picking at a non-existent thread on her dress and looked around. Her eyes narrowed in on something and she crossed the lobby and picked up a tiny scrap of paper, crumbling it in her hand and then walking back over and tossing it in the trash behind Roddy’s desk.

“I’ve been sitting here for two hours, didn’t see it,” he noted.

She smiled, “Well you’ve been doing less important things like making sure no one robs the place.”

He opened his mouth to say something to her but then his gaze was directed behind her, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t open until 11 o’clock on Tuesdays.”

“I sort of have an appointment,” the man said.

She knew that voice. She’d heard it before. In a coat closet at Alys Karstark’s birthday party. At the next table over at a charity even in 2019. Deep, stubbornly Northern, as unyielding as Valyrian steel.

She felt her palms sweat and forced herself not to rub them on her dress, rubbing them together instead and then turning around with a bright smile.

“You’re not Sansa Stark,” she greeted him.

He grinned sheepishly, though she wasn’t sure this man had ever had occasion to be sheepish in his entire life, “Afraid not. Myrcella, right? We met at that thing – that um… save the…whatsits.”

She giggled, and she heard the sound echoing garishly on the marble, “I believe that evening we were saving the seals. Or the… tulips, maybe.”

His smile spread slowly across his face, a dimple marking its end like an exclamation point, “Well we did our part even if we can’t remember what it was, I’m Robb Stark.”

She liked that he introduced himself. He’d done so every time they’d met, as though he in no way expected her to remember him. Sansa had done it the first five or so. Must have been how they were raised.

On the other hand, she’d been raised to act as though someone was foolish for not knowing who she was, introducing herself had been something she’d had to learn when she moved north, like parallel parking and salting her stoop.

Her hand extended and his met it, taking hers in his larger one and shaking it firmly as he looked her in the eyes briefly and then her lips slightly longer before purposefully going back to her eyes, “Myrcella Baratheon, and I remember you, Mr. Stark.”

“Well if that were true you’d remember I prefer Robb,” he noted, releasing her hand.

She shrugged, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Old habits. Can I get you something to drink before we begin our tour?”

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he shook his head.

She nodded, “Well it’s beautiful out now, why don’t we start in the botanical gardens. There’s been a bumper crop this year, we recently had the Cerwyn wedding here, did you attend?”

He fell into step next to her and said, “No, I didn’t. I was meant to but they reduced it to just family.”

She nodded, “Right, seems to be happening quite a bit. Will you do the same for your wedding?”

He stopped walking briefly and before she could stop too he had started again, “No… uh, rather than reduce the guest list we decided not to have it at all. We called the engagement off in January.”

“I’m so sorry!” she internally stabbed herself in the throat, “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, “The nice thing about there not being any events over the past year is that the press didn’t really get wind of it.” Then stopped abruptly, “Not that… it’s not like that makes up for the past year or anything.”

She laughed, “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. I am sorry though, about your engagement.”

“As am I,” he agreed, “But it’s for the best. We parted as friends. Had we gotten married, I’m not sure we could have done so, so I’m grateful for that, and for her.”

A gentleman.

So many men played the part. Opening doors, buying flowers. So few of them realized that manners mattered very little when they were offered without grace.

“That’s lovely,” she noted, pleased for once not to have to lie.

It was a gorgeous day, a perfect seventy-nine degrees and clear blue skies. As though they’d understood the importance of the occasion, the Phlox stood proudly in battle formation and the scent of honeysuckle surrounded them.

“Sansa wanted me to apologize for missing your meeting,” Robb noted.

“I hope nothing’s the matter?” she asked.

A grin overtook his face, “No nothing at all. She’s in labor.”

She smiled, grabbing his forearm briefly. They both looked down at her hand on it and she pulled it back as gingerly as she could.

“That’s wonderful,” she told him, “Her second, right?”

He nodded, “A girl. And I’ve convinced her out of the name Corona.”

She chuckled, “Oh come now, you could call her Corrie for short.”

“And her parents idiots for long,” he noted. Then told her, “They weren’t really going to call her Corona.”

She smiled, “And here I was about to tip off the press…”

He smirked, “Narrow miss, then.” He looked around, “So. Flowers.”

“Not just flowers,” she pointed out, “We have a community garden to the left and down that lane local beekeepers keep their hives.”

“My mistake,” he allowed with a close-lipped smile.

That smile annoyed her. It was the same one she’d heard in the voice of every southern donor she’d called when they’d offered her good luck with her little country museum.

It was the smile someone gave her when she’d already lost.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” she noted, “I can show you our contemporary wing which we’ve recently devoted to elevating female and underrepresented artists. Or perhaps that’s a bit too avant-garde for you. Would you like to see our hall of armor and weaponry? I believe we have a few pieces that your ancestors left on one battlefield or another.”

“I’m sorry,” he noted, rubbing his jaw, “I told Sansa we should just cancel this meeting but she insisted.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark –“

“Robb,” he corrected her.

“No, I’m addressing Mr. Stark right now,” she argued, all of the frustration and helplessness of the past few months bubbling up inside of her, “May I ask what exactly it is about this that you find amusing? Is it the painting that we’re going to have to sell so that it can end up in someone’s climate controlled storage unit and never looked at again? Or is it the leaky roof? Perhaps the pay cut we asked all senior employees to take? Or how about the summer interns who had gone through a rigorous hiring process only to be told we couldn’t take them on at all? I certainly hope it’s not the seniors who used to come here for their Saturday afternoon watercolor classes which we had to cancel because we didn’t have anything to pay the instructor even though it would have been the perfect activity for them because it is outdoors and safe. Or maybe it’s the after-school programs you find so laughable…”

“I’m not laughing,” he pointed out. “But you’ll forgive me if I take your righteousness with a grain of salt.”

“I’m not sure that I will, actually,” she argued.

“No?” he asked, “Well let’s talk about those seniors? Don’t you think that funding is better spent ensuring they have free and safe access to the vaccination that can actually save their lives? Or what about those kids? Sure, the after-school program is great, but how about providing computers to allow them to do remote learning? Now I’m sorry if you have to lose one of a thousand paintings in this place, but if money can be better spent giving people what they really need then I’m sorry – sell the damn thing.”

That was hard to argue with.

But not impossible.

“So you’ve drained your coffers?” she asked.

There was only room for one of them on the moral high ground and she’d always enjoyed the view.

His cheeks had turned blotchy in anger but they paled now, “Excuse me?”

“Are you in the red?” she asked, “Declaring bankruptcy? Let’s not go that far - Taking out loans? Leveraging assets?”

His jaw clenched, revealing a muscle in his left cheek that might have been attractive if she wasn’t about to rip his head off.

“No,” he noted, “But my family’s company and my family have given an exceptional amount this year already.”

“Well,” she pointed out, “It has been an exceptional year already.”

“Are you always this haughty with potential donors?” he asked, stepping ever so slightly closer to her.

A flash in her mind of his hand ghosting across the back of her neck as he secured her coat over her shoulders. That smell.

“Never,” she admitted, stepping ever so slightly towards him, “But you’re not a potential donor, are you? And tell me, is it really because you don’t think it’s worthwhile or because it doesn’t sound worthwhile?”

His face contorted in anger, “You think we’re giving so that people will write songs about us? We want this country back on its feet. We want to return to normal and if we can’t do that, we want to make sure to give people as comfortable an existence until it reverts on its own. Tell me, Miss Baratheon, can you actually find fault in that?”

She shook her head, “No, I can’t.” He looked surprised and she shrugged, “It’s a flawless argument. Just an incomplete one. Giving an exceptional amount right now isn’t enough. You have to give until it hurts, because you can. It is wonderful, exceptional, heroic, to be doing all that you have done so far. But what comes next? What comes after? What happens when the dust settles? When things open? When we get things under control? What happens when people are ready to return to what was before and none of it is left because it wasn’t deemed essential. Because it’s just flowers and amateur beekeepers and pretty watercolors? I understand that we are not on the top of the list and we shouldn’t be. But we should be on the list. We need to do more than survive, Robb. There are things apart from us that we need to endure. Things we need to protect.”

His mouth twitched at that.

“I’m sorry to say I don’t have time to see the armor,” he told her.

She felt the defeat trickle through her veins slowly.

She held out her hand, “Thank you for letting me rant at you.”

He shook it once again, narrowing his eyes at her, “Something tells me you’ve still got some left in the tank. I’d quite like to hear it. Have dinner with me tonight and convince me.”

It was happening to all of her girlfriends. After a year in isolation, their ability to detect a creep from a mile away had withered. She hadn’t thought that hers had too. He’d seemed like one of the good ones.

She pulled her hand away, “That’s not the way I do business, Mr. Stark.”

His eyes widened in horror, “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t get to make these decisions.”

“You’re the CEO,” she pointed out.

“Yes I am but Sansa insisted on inserting a clause into her contract that she gets final say over any philanthropic decisions,” he sighed, “I literally am not even allowed to choose the location of a book drive.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, a tiny bit of hope bubbling inside of her, “So when you said you should have cancelled the meeting…”

“It’s because Sansa’s already decided that we will be giving a donation, she wanted to discuss the structure of it with you – you know whether you’d prefer a lump sum, or whether you want it in increments, if you wanted it to be public to inspire other donors or whether you wanted it to be private so that they couldn’t use it as an excuse not to give…” he waved his hand, “She’s better at the specifics and I’m sure she’ll be calling you in between contractions to fine tune them.”

She laughed, “Please tell her not to. A pledge is more than enough to take to my board, we can map out the nitty gritty whenever she or whomever will be replacing her in the interim has time.”

He nodded, “You’ll have them within the week.”

She was about to thank him but the words caught in her mouth, “So wait a second… did you just wind me up for the sake of it?”

He grinned, a chuckle present in his voice though it hadn’t yet broken, “I’d like to point out that it took very little to wind you up.”

She laughed, because he was right and admitted, “It’s been a tough year.”

He nodded, “For everyone. So, now that you know I have absolutely no control and can hold absolutely nothing over you… have dinner with me.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I enjoy arguing with you,” he told her, then grinned sheepishly, “And because I lied. Sansa told me that I could cancel the meeting and I insisted on coming because I wanted to see you. The bad thing about this year is that there were no events where I could have a chance of bumping into you…”

“Oh that’s the bad thing about this year?” she asked.

“Well,” he grinned, then did a scarily good impression of her, “Maybe it shouldn’t be at the top of the list, but it should be on the list.”

[damonsvftie]

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐞

MASTERLIST☁️

Summary: Since it’s Draco’s birthday, y/n decides to bake him a cake, despite it turning out looking rushed and messy and not really knowing why he hates celebrating his birthday so much. But nothing is stopping her. Not even him.

Note: 1.1K words, slight angst and fluff

Preparing for Draco’s birthday bake, I mixed the eggs into my cake batter, as I dipped my finger into the bowl scooping up a bit of the mixture, popping it into my mouth to see what it tasted like. Since I was happy with the flavours, I dished it into a cake tin and hastily put it into the oven so it could cook just in time before Draco arrived home.

For the spare hour, I tried making some frosting by placing icing sugar and butter into a bowl, beating it using a mixer until it became all fluffy and thick.

Looking back at the clock it was now 7pm and Draco would be home in 30 minutes.

Opening the oven, letting the warm heat hit my face, I tried taking the cake out strategically to only end up burning my my hands since I forgot to put on some kitchen mittens.

Once the cake was out I had to let it cool down before I started creaming it or it would completely melt and I couldn’t let my effort go down the drain. Time was ticking quicker than usual, and it was now 10 minutes before he came home. Rushing things, I shoved the buttercream into a piping bag as I spread the sweet mixture onto the cake unevenly using a knife. My hands were working quick now, as I grabbed the piping bag and wrote down “HaPpY bIrthDaY dRacO!” In wonky letters before I heard someone open the front door.

Finishing the exclamation point of, i wiped my hands on my apron as I leaned against the counter exhausted.

“You look like a mess,” he laughed as he put his briefcase down.

“Happy birthday babe!” I spoke as enthusiastically as I could before practically falling onto the couch.

“Y/n.. did you burn your hand? I told you I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday,” he huffed as he plopped down next to me, examining my burn mark.

“Draco I know- it might not be important to you but it is too me,”. His soft eyes glanced up at mine, his cheeks flustering before looking down at my hand again.

“I’ll go get some ointme-“ he started before I cut him off from finishing his sentence.

“Draco it’s just a burn, it’ll heal.. stop worrying over small things,” I retorted as I pulled him back down.

“Small things? Y/n your my wife and it’s my responsibility to take care of you, now if you’ll excuse me I’ll be back,”

When he came back he applied the cream to my hand making me flinch at the sudden effect of the medicine as it tingled all over my hand to the tip of my fingertips.

“Are you okay?” He asked concerned as he stopped.

“Yeah- its just.. tingling,” I stated as he went back to applying the transparent cream to my hand.

“Draco.. why don’t you like..celebrating your birthday?” I questioned as my gaze stayed glued on his gorgeous face while he concentrated on my hand.

“Reminds me of when I was a slimy headed git and used to brag about receiving presents and all that,” he answered as he deeply exhaled right after.

“Alright it should heal in a few days..now please don’t ever try and do something so stupid again,” the tone in his voice turning colder the minute he spoke.

Ever since Draco was a kid, he used to brag about being more wealthier or receiving more than the other kids mainly Ron. Knowing that Ronald had many siblings and belonged to a ‘not so wealthy family’ i believe it made Draco regret his past actions and words. Saying things like ‘don’t your family sleep in one room’ probably made him feel uneasy looking back at it now. The gifts that the Weasley’s would receive, came from the inside. Deprived from love. But Draco on the other hand was thrown whatever he demanded for, as if it were meaningless. Not a single ounce of love attached to it.

So to me it made sense why he wasn’t so keen on celebrating his birthday. Cake, gifts, having fun wasn’t his jazz especially since he had changed so much after the war. However I was determined to make this day as significant as possible. If not for him then at least for me.

As he got up to leave, I grabbed onto his hand clutching it softly. He turned himself around as he cocked his head at me. “Where are you going?” I asked, my grip tightening around his wrist.

“I’m heading to bed, goodnight,”

“No your not! We’re celebrating your birthday and it’s final,” I insisted before dragging him to the kitchen counter.

Finally giving in, he gave the cake a funny look before giggling. “I know.. I’m sorry... it’s so rushed and everything but I promise next time it’ll look better,” I assured, before he opened his mouth to speak.

“There will be no next time but since your being so stubborn then I guess I have to at least try it,” he spoke as he rolled his eyes.

Placing a piece of cake onto a clean plate, he dug in with his fork, taking a bite out of it. I stood their hopeful as a wide smile plastered my face. “So.. is it good? Do you like it?” I interrogated as I smoothed out my apron.

“Wow.. y/n .. this is really good...,” he replied his eyebrows furrowing as he finished half of the slice already.

“I’m so glad you like it babe! I can’t wait to make it again next year,” I blurted, almost forgetting what he had said earlier. His smile turned into a frown as he placed the plate onto the counter.

“Right.. I’m sorry... there will be no next time,” I reminded myself as I looked down at my feet, biting the inside flesh of my cheek.

“Look y/n, I’m sorry for being so hard on you- I just- you know that I really do appreciate your effort right? It’s just- I’m not in the mood to do these type of things every year,” the tone of his voice gentle.

He pulled me in for a hug as my hands wrapped around his waist. I could feel his heart beating rapidly as I buried my face into his chest. “I know,” I replied, my voice muffled as I hugged him tighter closing any sort of gaps that separated us.

Pulling away I gave him a quick peck on the lips before saying my last few words to him. “Sorry to burst your bubble babe.. but happy birthday,” I whispered as I let out a faint giggle.

“You won’t ever stop will you?” He questioned playfully, before pulling me in for a passionate kiss.

[izzyfandoms]

Sleepality - Inky Freckles

SHIPS: Sleepality, background Virmile and Thomgan, and mentioned Dukeceit (though neither of them show up)

WARNINGS: Remus sends one text message with an implied threat (not towards the recipient), very very background sympathetic deceit and remus (they aren't acc in any scenes), mild swearing

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread

Masterpost

Patton chewed distractedly on the end of his pen, tapping his foot on his bedroom floor as his eyes remained on his clock, watching as the seconds and the minutes ticked by.

Five minutes. Ten seconds.

Five minutes and ten seconds until the moment he turned sixteen.

January 15th, 1:46 am on the dot: the exact date and time of Patton’s birth. Precisely sixteen years after that moment, his soul would open up, and the bond between him and his soulmate would be formed, like an invisible string from one soul to the other. Any ink spilled on Patton’s skin would show up on his soulmate’s, too, and vice versa. Of course, nothing would happen if Patton’s soulmate wasn’t also sixteen yet, but it was still a big moment in his young life.

(If he even had a soulmate, that was. Most people didn’t, but Patton wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t hopeful.)

Four minutes. Thirty-six seconds.

Patton got up from his desk, pacing around the room a few times before sitting down on his bed, leaning back against the pillows and pulling his knees to his chest. Despite the coolness of his room, and the goose-bumps on his arms, he was dressed in a worn blue t-shirt and pyjama shorts, revealing as much skin as possible, just in case. His father, Roman, had gifted him a new pack of pens – the ones made specially to be safe for skin – and he’d picked out the glittery light blue one, his favourite colour, ready to write.

Three minutes. Twelve seconds.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Patton mumbled.

Three minutes. Seven seconds.

He yawned loudly, stretching and almost dropping his pen. It was late – much later than he usually stayed up. Patton was a well-behaved kid; he went to bed when his father told him to, never stayed out past curfew. He was usually fast asleep by 11pm at latest, so this was rather unusual for him.

Tonight was one of a kind, after all.

Two minutes. Fifty-one seconds.

The tick of the clock was maddeningly slow, every second seeming to take hours. Patton couldn’t wait for when he didn’t have to keep watching.  

He reached over to his bedside table, taking his phone and switching it on.

There was one new message, from his uncle Remus, sent a few minutes ago.

UNCLE REMUS

tell your soulmate if he ever hurts you ill rip off his dick and shove it down his throat

Patton sighed, switching off his phone and placing it back down beside him. He wasn’t sure why his uncle was so certain that he had a soulmate – he claimed it was because he was psychic, though his husband, Janus, had chided him and told him not to get Patton’s hopes up.  

It was hard not to be hopeful. Impossible.

One minute. Forty-nine seconds.

Patton chewed nervously on his lip, looking over his freckled arms and wondering what exactly he’d write to his soulmate.

Would a simple ‘hello’ suffice?

There was no point in writing a whole paragraph, especially when it was statistically unlikely that Patton even had a soulmate – and even if he did, perhaps they were younger, and their connection wouldn’t start until his soulmate turned sixteen, too.

One minute. Zero seconds.

A minute. A minute. A minute. Just a minute until Patton (maybe) talked to his soulmate for the first time. That was so little time – though it felt like so much.

Patton couldn’t help but burst into delighted laughter, and he was sure that if anybody was watching him, they’d think he was insane. The hope bubbled up inside him, like a cup overflowing with water, unable to be suppressed.

Fifty seconds.

He moved forward, and then lay down on his back, spreading his arms out like a starfish.

Patton tried to keep the hope down, tried to keep it from spilling over even more. Or maybe that was nausea, swirling in his stomach, but it almost felt too good to be that. Too happy. Too excited. Both, maybe.

Forty seconds.

Patton twirled the pen in his hand.

It slipped from his fingers, hitting the carpet with a quiet thump.

He bent down – wobbling slightly and nearly tumbling right off his bed – picking it back up and then sitting up again. He moved so his back was pressed against the wall, and tilted his head up to look at the pattern at the ceiling, counting each swirl.

He glanced back at the clock.

Twenty seconds.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest, and his eyes remained on the clock, watching it tick.

Ten seconds.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

Zero. Zero. Zero.

Patton sat up straight, squeezing the pen tightly, so tightly that his nails dug into his palm.

He pulled off the cap, dropping it on the bed beside him and holding the tip just above his wrist. His hand shook (nervousness or excitement? Both) as he pondered what to write for another moment.

He pressed the pen to his skin.

Hello?

Hopefully that was good enough.

Patton waited a few seconds, almost a whole minute, and then sighed, leaning back so his head hit the wall and closing his eyes. He was disappointed, but he knew that it was his own fault. He shouldn’t have let himself get so hopeful. Maybe he didn’t have a soulmate – that was alright, his uncles weren’t soulmates and yet they were wonderfully happy together.

(But his brother, Emile, did have a soulmate, and there was something amazing about the way he and Virgil could practically read each other’s minds, communicating effortlessly without saying a word. Patton wanted that. He really, desperately wanted that, more than anything else in the world.)

He wouldn’t cry.  

He wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t.

His lower lip trembled.

All of a sudden, Patton felt a funny sensation on his wrist, like someone else was writing on it – the non-existent pen so light on his skin he almost couldn’t feel it. Almost.

Patton’s eyes shot open, and he immediately lifted his wrist to stare at it, wide-eyed.

His breath stuttered at the words now written in black ink just below his greeting.

holy shit

Before Patton could truly process what was going on, before he could regain his breath, the sensation resumed, and more words began to appear below those first ones.

hi

guess im ur soulmate lol

Patton couldn’t help but giggle, practically vibrating with excitement.

He picked his pen back up, ignoring the slight stain he’d left on his bedsheets. He’d spilt enough juice and milk on his bed to care about one little stain, especially right now, when he had a much more important thing to focus on.

Oh my gosh!!!!!!

Soulmate!!!

Im Patton!

Patton Picani!!!

thats a lot of exclamation marks babe

Nervousness tinged the edges of Patton’s bubble of excitement, enough that he almost didn’t notice the use of the word ‘babe’, which made his heart skip a beat.

sorry

not a bad thing

its cute

Patton bit his lip, wiggling excitedly as his heartrate increased. He watched as the words continued coming. They were messy, but Patton was sure the handwriting was the prettiest he’d ever seen, though he could admit that he might’ve been a little biased. He would read a million books written in this handwriting.

im Remy

Sanders

my bdays acc the 16th lol

tomorrow

i turn 17

Its my birthday today!!!!

Only after Patton wrote that did he realise how obvious it was – of course it was his birthday – but he didn’t particularly care. The ticking of the clock had faded into background noise, and it was hard to believe it had ever annoyed him so much, though it was impossible for him to think of anything negative right now. He was floating on cloud nine.

happy birthday

were running out of arm space

id have to strip to get leg room

wanna gimme ur number?

Okay!!!

They quickly exchanged phone numbers, and Patton immediately grabbed his phone, creating a new contact labelled ‘Remy’ followed by seven colourful hearts – a rainbow of love. But before he could text Remy, Remy texted him first.

REMY:

what time is it for u

Patton glanced at the clock.

PATTON:

Almost 2am

REMY:

same

Realisation struck Patton, and his eyes widened with guilt and concern. He bit his lip, and quickly resumed typing.

PATTON:

Oh my gosh im so sorry!!!! Did I wake you up?

REMY:

nah babe dw bout it

i was already up

i always sleep late

PATTON:

That sounds unhealthy :(

Get some rest!!!

REMY:

ha

u sound like my dads lol

PATTON:

What are they like?

REMY:

my dads?

its just the three of us

their names are logan and thomas and theyre the sappiest motherfuckers on earth

gotta love em tho

theyre gonna be real thrilled when they find out bout u

bet theyll love you right away

wbu  

whats ur fam like

PATTON:

Oh! Well ive got my dad

His name’s Roman

He works in theatre!!! Hes so cool

And I’ve got my older brother Emile hes 22 and hes a therapist

He uses cartoons to help people!!

Hes also got a soulmate his name is Virgil and hes a florist

They got married last year and the wedding was so much fun!!! So many pretty flowers!!!

And I’ve got my uncle Remus hes my dads twin hes a writer and his husband Janus is a lawyer theyre also both so cool!!!

And that’s everyone!!

REMY:

if theyre all as sweet as u sugar then im sure ur all v popular

PATTON:

Well we do have dinner with our neighbours a lot!!!

Mrs Smith gives me lots of candy

Its often stale but I eat it anyway cos shes just so sweet!

Sweeter than her candy lol

Patton’s door suddenly swung open, and he jumped, his phone slipping from his fingers and landing right in his lap. His father, Roman, stepped inside, yawning and rubbing his eyes, wincing at the bright light that hung from the ceiling.

“You still up, Pat?” He asked sleepily.

He squinted, his eyes landing on the still-on phone in Patton’s lap.

“Who are you te- by the glittering horn of a unicorn! Is that writing on your arm?” He sat down, taking Patton’s arm and looking over the words. He then glanced back up at his son, his eyes shining excitedly. “You have a soulmate,” He breathed.

“I do!” Patton exclaimed, bouncing excitedly in place. “His name is Remy and he turns seventeen tomorrow and he’s just so cool!”

Roman beamed. “Wow, I’m so incredibly happy for you, Pat!” He said. Then, he chuckled, his smile turning a little teasing. “But... it’s late, and you really should be sleeping. And I’m betting that Remy should be, too.”

Patton pouted a little. “But it’s a Friday! I don’t have any school tomorrow.”

“But the family’s coming over tomorrow at 10 for your birthday, and I know you. You’re gonna be all grumbly in the morning, instead of our happy-pappy Patton, and that’ll be even worse the less sleep you get.”

Patton drooped, like a little wilting flower, but couldn’t deny that his father was right.

“Okay...” He frowned, picking up his phone, switching off the screen without looking at it, and holding it against his chest. “Can I at least say night to Remy, first?”

Roman smiled. “Sure.”

He leant forward, squeezing Patton’s arm supportively, before pressing a quick kiss to his son’s forehead. Roman gave him one last smile, affectionately ruffling his hair, before pulling back and standing up. He brushed the non-existent dirt from his pyjamas.

“Goodnight, Pat,” He said. “And happy birthday.”

In the excitement that was talking to Remy, Patton had almost forgotten that it was his birthday, and he blinked in surprise as Roman left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Patton then took a deep breath, before switching his phone back on to see whatever messages he’d missed.

REMY:

u rlly r an angel huh

PATTON:

Awwwww!!

Your making me blush

REMY:

thats the goal babe

PATTON:

Such a flirt!!

REMY:

im gonna be ten times more flirty when i get to see ur pretty face in person

PATTON:

How do you know Im pretty?

You havent even seen me yet

REMY:

i can just tell

im awesome like that

i bet ur the cutest person in the whole damn world

the whole damn universe

but while were on the subject of seeing each other

were waiting to meet naturally right?

PATTON:

Yeah!

Its good luck  

REMY:

yea

PATTON:

Welp!!!

Dad says I gotta go to sleep now!!

Night <3<3<3

REMY:

night xoxox

Patton switched off his phone, placing it on his bedside table and getting off the bed. He wobbled slightly as he stood up, suddenly realising how tired he really was, and quickly walked up to his fairy lights, switching them on before switching off the main light. He then climbed back into bed, settling in the soft nest of pastel pillows and blankets, and his last thought before he fell asleep was of his soulmate.

He barely knew Remy, but he already couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with him.

***

The sound of the alarm from Remy’s phone rang through the room, waking him up suddenly. His immediate reaction was to groan, shutting it off quickly and then returning to the warm comfort of his mattress and pillows and blanket. It was the weekend, he had no plans, so if his dads wanted him up, they could come in and get him up themselves. Remy wanted to sleep.

Then, the memories of the night before flooded back to him, and he shot up in bed, pulling out his arm and staring at it wide-eyed.

The words Patton had written last night had now been washed away – likely to leave room for new words and new conversations – whilst Remy’s words still remained, though now a little smudged and faded. The only sign that Patton’s words had ever been there in the first place was the new word on his wrist, just below his palm, in baby blue, like the ones before.

Morning <3

Remy grinned, jumping out of bed much more enthusiastically than he usually did, grabbing the black pen on his bedside table and rushing to the bathroom, thankfully not bumping into either of his dads on the way there.

He washed his arms as quickly as he could, leaving them a little sore and red, though he didn’t care, and uncapped his pen with his teeth, leaving the lid in his mouth.

mornin

!!!!!

Do you always get up this late?

Remy laughed. The handwriting was a little larger and a little neater than his, and each i was dotted with a heart, which made him even more convinced that his soulmate was probably the cutest person on earth.

what time is it

10:30

later usually

what time did u get up

8:30

oof

i could never

What do you do for school then?

suffer

Remy took the pen lid out of his mouth, pocketing it and twirling the uncapped pen between his fingers, watching as more light blue words appeared on his arm. The sensation was feather-light, barely there, but impossible to ignore.

Aww no!!

I don’t want you to suffer :(

dw babe ive got coffee

life saver

id die without it

100%

Well make sure you don’t drink too much!!!!

Its bad for you!!

dw my dad always tells me that

he keeps an eye on it

Which one?

logan

Okay

There was a brief pause, and Remy almost continued writing, but he got the feeling that Patton wasn’t done, so he just waited patiently, tapping his foot against the tiled bathroom floor.

Do you mind if I doodle on my arms?

I usually do when Im bored but I thought Id ask

I wont if you don’t want me to tho

go ahead

what do u doodle?

I usually just connect my freckles

Like little constellations!!!!

It was impossible to keep the grin on Remy’s face from widening – Patton's enthusiasm was adorable and infectious – and he sat down on the edge of the bathtub, crossing one leg over the other as he pressed his pen to his skin and continued writing.

u got a lot of freckles?

Yup!

Theyre everywhere

everywhere?

Yeah!

hm

one day  

im gonna kiss every single one of your freckles

(Perhaps that was a little bold for only their second conversation, but Remy was a natural flirt, and Patton was his soulmate, after all. He’d back down at any sign of discomfort, but so far Patton had seemed receptive.)

every single one

Thats a lot of kisses

not enough

but itll be a good start

A little, swirly scribble appeared just beside the words Remy had written – the universal key-smash equivalent for soulmates writing on their skin. Just the thought that he was already able to fluster Patton so easily made Remy very, very happy. He grinned.

Gtg! Presents time!

Ill talk to you later <3<3<3

later xoxo

Remy fished the pen lid back out of his pocket, capping the pen and pocketing it. He then strolled back out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and towards the kitchen.

His fathers were both sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and talking. Their legs were pressed together under the table, and it was clear they’d just been flirting. Both Logan and Thomas looked up when Remy entered the room, surprised.

“What kind of natural disaster got you up before midday?” Thomas joked.

Remy waved his arm, showing off the writing, and Logan choked on his coffee. Thomas patted his back a few times worriedly, and Remy waited impatiently for the conversation to resume, tapping his foot against the floor.

“Is that what I think it is?” Logan asked incredulously, once he was breathing again.

Remy nodded. “Yup. Can I make coffee?”

Thomas nodded slowly, but it was clear he was much more focused on the previous topic at hand.

“You have a soulmate?” He asked. “Oh my gosh! What’s their name? Aren’t you gonna tell us about them?”

“Well, his name’s Patton,” Remy began, heading towards the coffee machine and immediately getting to work to make himself a large mug. “It’s his birthday today – it was actually, like, 2am, or something – and he’s real cute. I think you’ll both like him.”

Thomas exchanged a look with his husband – the former much more openly thrilled, whilst the latter looked more confused, though undeniably pleased. He then stood up, opening his arms immediately.

“I think this calls for a family hug,” Thomas grinned.

Logan sighed, but put his own coffee mug back down, getting up obediently.

Remy groaned. “Really? Before my coffee? Do I have to?”

“Yup! Right now,” Thomas said, wrapping one arm around Logan’s waist and resting his chin on his head, keeping his other arm outstretched, awaiting their son. “This is a big moment! It calls for a family hug. C’mere.”

“There is no point refusing, Remy,” Logan said dryly. “I learnt that a long time ago.”

“Aww, you love me.”

“Of course. That is why we got married, after all.”

Remy groaned again. “Are you two really flirting, right now? Gross.”

“Well, if you want us to stop flirting, you’re gonna have to join the hug.”

Remy sighed exaggeratedly, dragging his feet as he walked up to his dads, reluctantly joining the family hug. Then, he pulled back as quickly as he could get away with, making a face and turning back to the coffee machine. He quickly made himself a large mug – with excessive amounts of milk and sugar, something his father would usually criticise, though he seemed to turn a blind eye for today.

Remy then sat down at the table, beside Thomas, sipping eagerly at his coffee and leaning back in his chair.

His fathers didn’t take their eyes off of his arm, clearly reading the words, and after about a minute, Remy rolled his eyes, placing the coffee on his table and crossing his arms.

“What are you looking at?”

“Attitude, Remy,” Thomas sighed. “Be nice. And we’re looking at your arm because we’re excited! You have a soulmate, that’s a really big deal! We should celebrate.”

Remy perked up. “Celebrate?”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Perhaps tonight we could have dinner at the Italian place that you like.”

“Ooh, the one with that fancy pasta?”

“Weren’t we planning on going there tomorrow?” Thomas asked his husband.

Remy blinked, surprised. “We were?”

Thomas blinked, and then gave his husband a slightly sheepish smile. “I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.”

Logan sighed. “Well, I think we can put that off for tomorrow, then. Today... you may invite a few friends over.” Remy opened his mouth, but Logan quickly continued, interrupting him before he could speak. “Three friends, maximum. No parties.”

Remy pouted. “Only three? Lame.”

“If you complain, we’ll bring it down to two.”

“Three sounds great!”

***

Patton picked up his phone, holding it to his ear as he paced casually around his room.

“Emile!” He greeted. “How are you?”

“Happy birthday, Pat!” Emile greeted cheerfully, and Patton could practically hear the usual smile on his face. “And I’m doing great. Virgil invited his brother to dinner yesterday, so that was fun, and I had a real breakthrough with one of my clients, too. You?”

“I’m good! Hey, do you think this counts as Remy and my anniversary? I mean, I know we haven’t actually really met, yet, but it’s been a year since we first spoke, and we are soulmates. Does that count? Would it be weird to count it?”

Emile hummed. “I think that if you want it to count, it counts.”

“That’s a bit vague,” Patton sighed.

Emile laughed. “That’s just how it works, I’m afraid. How is Remy anyway? It’s his birthday tomorrow, right?”

Patton perked up at the opportunity to talk about his soulmate. “Remy’s great! He got a new job at the Starbucks near his house; he’s pretty excited about it. And yup, it’s his birthday tomorrow! He turns eighteen. It’s a funny coincidence, isn’t it? That our birthdays are so close?”

“It’s actually a lot more common for soulmates to have these similarities than you’d think,” Emile said. “Close birthdays, close locations, things like that. I mean, Virgil and I were both born in the same hospital.”

“Really? Oh, that’s cool!” Patton smiled.

He sat down on his bed, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged, and moving so his back was against the wall, half-sitting on one of his pillows.

“Yup! I’ve researched a lot about these things,” Emile said. “And- oh, Virgil, there you are!”

Patton heard rustling on the other end of the line, like Emile was temporarily putting his phone down, probably to greet and kiss his husband. He waited patiently, humming a song from the Steven Universe movie and drumming his fingers against his leg. His eyes scanned the various words written across his arms. Shiny black and glittery light blue. There were doodles, too – lines connecting the dots of his freckles, done by himself, and little stars and moons and hearts by Remy.

Then the rustling resumed, more movement, and Patton stopped humming.

“Morning, Pat,” Virgil greeted.

Patton smiled. “Virgil! How’s work going?”

“Not bad. I helped a guy arrange a hate-bouquet for his ex-boyfriend yesterday, so that was fun.”

“Sounds interesting!”

Virgil hummed in agreement, and it sounded like he was nodding. “I’m gonna hand the phone back to Emile, now. Happy birthday, kid.”

“Thanks!”

There was another moment of rustling, and then Emile returned.

“Okay, Virgil and I have to get to work,” Emile said. “We’re stopping by later for dinner, dad already knows. And, before you ask, no I will not tell you what your gift is, you’re gonna have to wait and see.”

Patton pouted. “Aww, okay. Bye!”

“Bye!”

Patton hung up the phone, before switching over to the texting app, and opening up his conversation with Remy.

PATTON

Hey im running out of space

So im gonna clean my arm

Can you too?

Remy responded almost immediately, as he usually did.

REMY

sure

one sec

Patton smiled, getting up and pocketing his phone. He headed over to the bathroom, quickly scrubbing away the words on his arms (he could leave the ones still remaining on his legs and torso, for now), and watching as Remy’s words disappeared at about the same time.

He then returned to his bedroom, sitting back down on his bed and fetching and uncapping his favourite pen.

The moment the tip of his pen touched his skin, a small black dot appeared just below it, like Remy was doing the exact same on his side – unintentionally trying to write in unison. All of a sudden, a wave of peace and happiness washed over Patton, but the emotions didn’t come from within himself. No, they came from an outside source, from somewhere else. Not from him.

From Remy.

At first, Patton was confused, disoriented, and then his heart skipped a beat, and he lifted his pen from his wrist.

The feeling stopped.

He then returned the pen to his wrist, creating another dot of light blue ink. For a moment, nothing happened, the feeling didn’t return, but then a small black speck appeared just beside his.

This time, the happiness was joined by an almost cautious excitement, tinged with something else.

What was it?

Love?

Love.

It felt like Patton was loving himself, except the love came from elsewhere, it came from Remy. Like a warm, comfortable blanket of love, wrapping around him and keeping him safe.

Patton beamed, wide and toothy and delighted, leaning back against the pillows and practically wiggling with excitement, careful to keep his pen tip on his wrist. A similar, thrilled feeling came back at him, and Patton quickly realised that whatever feelings he was getting from Remy, Remy was probably getting some very similar feelings in return from him.

damn babe

either something v weird is happening to me or thats ur feelings im feeling

I can feel it too!!!

Oh my gosh!

good i was worried i might be drunk

Have you been drinking?

nah thats why i was worried lmao

would be v weird to be drunk with no booze

Well that sure would be unusual!

The feelings from Remy weren’t constant, they only surfaced when both Patton and Remy were writing at once – flashes of emotions that were practically addicting. He wanted to keep feeling those feelings forever.

this is v weird

on and off

think itll get more constant the more we talk?

like we wont need to be both writing at the same time to feel it or smth?

Yeah!

I think so

Thats what happened with Em and Virge at least

cool

cant wait

There was a brief pause, and then Remy’s writing resumed.

can we doodle?

might make the empathy connection thingy better

Sure!

Patton giggled, unable to help himself, before pressing the tip of his pen to one of his freckles and drawing a thin line from it to another. Then another and another and another. Over and around the written words. He wasn’t making any specific shape or pattern in particular, just connecting the numerous dots. As he did this, Patton felt new shapes and doodles appearing on his legs, though he couldn’t see them through his trousers. Hearts and stars and moons and pawprints, most likely. The last one was new – Patton’s favourite.

He could feel Remy’s peace and contentment and love (love, love), like it was flowing through the air and seeping through his skin, filling him with happiness. Sometimes, it even increased for a brief moment, usually just after Patton’s happiness bubbled over into delighted giggles. It was a cycle – happiness creating happiness creating happiness.

Patton loved Remy. Remy loved Patton.

Love. Love. Love.

***

“Hey, Remy!”

Remy glanced up from his phone, straightening up as noticed and watched his best friend, Toby, approaching him. His foot tapped impatiently against the pavement, and his sunglasses were on to shield his eyes from bright midday sun.

“Gurl, what was taking you so long?” Remy complained, stuffing his phone into his pocket and crossing his arms, practically pouting. “I’ve been waiting here for, like, hours.”

Toby gave him a dry look. “I’m ten minutes late.”

“And that’s, like, ten hours in gay-and-in-a-hurry time.”

“In a hurry? What the hell are we even doing? Your text was very vague.”

“Well, it’s my dad’s birthday in a-”

“Which one?”

“Thomas. Bitch, stop interrupting me.”

Toby laughed, and Remy glared at him. He held his hands up defensively in mock surrender, and then gestured for Remy to continue.

“Anyway, it’s my dad’s birthday on Sunday and I’m supposed to get him a gift. I dunno what, though, so you’re gonna help me.”

“I’m pretty sure you know him better than I do.”

Remy shushed him. “Gurl, I am not letting you get out of helping me. So, we’re going to-”

He suddenly froze, going silent. Remy’s brow then creased, too, and after a moment of stillness he began to rapidly pat his arms and legs, like he was looking for something, though he didn’t seem to find it. Toby gave him a bewildered look.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“I can feel Patton’s emotions,” Remy said.

He could, but only barely – just little hints of Patton, pricking the edges of his soul – much less than he was used to, but still impossible to ignore. He was used to these feelings by now, always recognising them immediately, though this time it was... different.

“Okay... so, he’s writing to you? Isn’t that normal?”

Remy looked back at him, looking just as confused as Toby. “No, he isn’t. He isn’t writing to me. No ink.”

“He... isn’t?”

“I can always feel it,” Remy explained. “Always. But not right now. Why... why-” He froze, his eyes widening behind his dark sunglasses.  

“What?”

“He must be close. He must- oh my god, he must be close!” Remy looked around quickly, at all of the surrounding pedestrians. None of them looked right – none of them were Patton – but he could practically sense him. He was so close.

Toby blinked. “Really?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes. Yes, really. I know what I’m talking about!” Remy exclaimed, perhaps a little harsher than intended. “The empath shit only happens when you write or when you’re close. Gurl, that’s, like, common knowledge.”

Toby held his hands up. “Right, uh... sorry.” He cleared his throat. “So, how are we gonna find him?”

Remy’s brow scrunched up in thought. “I don’t know.”

His best friend shrugged, even more lost than he was.

“Maybe... maybe...” Remy continued, trailing off, before he suddenly straightened up. “It’ll get stronger the closer I get to him, so I just have to follow where it’s stronger, right? Like... like getting warmer and colder.”

Toby nodded slowly. “That makes sense. So, uh, walk around, and we’ll go in the direction that makes it stronger.”

Remy immediately began to pace in circles around Toby, pulling a slightly panicked face when at one point the feeling completely disappeared. Then, it got stronger, a wave of anticipation and curiosity, nervousness and excitement.

It suddenly hit Remy that if he could feel Patton, then Patton could feel him, too.

Patton was probably looking for him.

The corners of Remy’s lips twitched up into a smile. He was practically oozing excitement, and it was contagious, as Patton’s also seemed to increase – even Toby began smiling, too.

Toby patted him on the shoulder.

“Go on, follow your gut. I’ll be right behind you.”

Remy immediately turned on his heel, sprinting in the direction the emotions seemed to be coming from, and Toby almost tripped over his own feet following him. The empathy got stronger and stronger and stronger with every step, until it was even stronger than it usually was, and as his excitement further increased, so did Patton’s.

He rounded a corner, and immediately ran right into someone running at a similar speed, and they both tumbled to the ground with two loud thumps.

“Ah, fuck,” Remy groaned, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose as a jolt of pain shot down his leg.

“Oof,” The other boy winced.

His voice was like a bell, ringing through the air: suddenly the only sound that Remy could hear.

That was when Remy realised that Patton’s emotions were now equal to his own – mixing together in Remy’s soul until they were one and the same. It was almost like they were thinking and feeling as one, which was rather disorienting, to say the least.  

Patton... Patton was right in front of him.

Remy opened his eyes, immediately coming face-to-face with the most gorgeous person he had even seen – a wide-eyed and freckled boy, about a year younger than Remy, staring back at him with parted lips and an equally startled expression. He was wearing a blue and grey t-shirt, showing off his arms and the words Remy had written to him today, and all the constellations he’d doodled on his own skin. Now, Remy could see the stars that he’d been missing, and, in his opinion, they were even better than the ones in the night sky.

Patton.

Patton, Patton, Patton.

“Patton,” Remy breathed.

“Remy.”

Remy laughed, uncontrolled and loud and delighted, sitting up straight and taking Patton’s hand in his own, squeezing it. It was warm and soft, Remy never wanted to let go, and when Patton squeezed back, he felt... complete. Perfect. Heaven.

Patton smiled – like a shining sun, one that thankfully didn’t hurt to look at, as Remy couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“Wow,” Remy laughed. “You’re... wow.”

“Wow,” Patton echoed.

People were probably staring at them – Toby included – but Remy couldn’t take his eyes off of Patton to check. Patton seemed to be doing similarly, his eyes slowly taking in every part of Remy’s body, before returning to his face, staring into his eyes.

Patton’s eyes were brown, like honey in the sunlight. Beautiful.

“It’s... it’s nice to finally meet you,” Patton said softly.

“Likewise.”

There was a beat.

“You are gorgeous,” Remy continued, the words coming out before he could stop himself. He almost regretted blurting it out, but then Patton’s face turned a particularly pretty shade of pink, and Remy immediately grinned.

Patton squeezed his hand. “You, too.”

“Oh, I know I’m hot, babe,” Remy said, making Patton giggle. “But you, you’re... you’re an angel. Like, damn, how the hell did I get so lucky? I must’ve done something really freaking amazing in a past life to have deserved you.”

“You’re even more of a flirt in person,” Patton smiled, a little teasingly.

Remy laughed. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I warned you.”

“You did,” Patton said, smiling fondly.

“Is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?” Remy asked suddenly. His tone of voice was casual, like he was joking, but they both knew – Patton could probably sense – that he was serious.

Patton didn’t hesitate, answering quickly. “No. I mean, yes. I mean... no, it’s not too soon. Please?”

Remy didn’t waste any time, reaching forward, carefully cradling Patton’s face in his hand and kissing him gently. His lips were soft and warm and Remy never wanted to stop kissing him. Patton covered Remy’s hand with his own free one, kissing back a little clumsily, though it was without a doubt enthusiastic.

Then, he got a little too enthusiastic, and Remy tumbled backwards, pulling Patton along with him.

They broke apart, and after a moment of startled – slightly awkward – silence, they both started laughing loudly, and Patton climbed off of him. He finally stood up, holding out his hand and helping Remy up, too.

The pedestrians that had been watching them had mostly all moved on by now, leaving only Toby hovering awkwardly nearby. He had his phone out, trying to distract himself, give them some privacy, though he was undeniably still keeping an eye out. It wasn’t every day you saw a soulmate pair’s first meeting.  

Remy took Patton’s hands in his own, looking him over again and again and again.

An idea came to him – not a new one, one he’d thought about and talked about and dreamed and daydreamed about a million times – and he grinned in a way that he could feel made Patton’s heart skip a beat.

“Remember how I said I wanted to kiss every freckle?"