#something something in every universe

[lsunstreakerl]

1k of au'd fopa, where I tried to gender beam them and missed by accident. mostly oscar and logan focused, with an arthur feature. fred is the last piece lol. oscar/olivia POV, logan POV

Olivia is sitting in the airport terminal, leg jittering with her fingers wrapped tight around her racket duffel. She's stopping over in Sydney before she leaves for her first major competition, and she's trying to be as calm and collected as she's rumored to be.

Everyone else must see a different Olivia than she does in the mirror.

There's a pair of shoes entering her field of view, scuffed white Nikes attached to a mortifyingly attractive boy.

She hopes her hair isn't messy.

"Ah, hello, sorry- is someone sitting here?"

Olivia clears her throat. He's French. This is terrible for her.

"Just me, but like- one second."

She shoves her duffel and within it several hundred dollars worth of rackets to the floor, clearing up the seat next to her. It's been hours since she got ready, she's in her airport outfit, why doesn't she ever put in more effort in the mornings, why do boys only approach her when she isn't trying? It's like they have a sixth sense for bad timing.

He smiles, dimples at his cheeks.

"Merci...?"

"Sorry! Olivia. My name is Olivia."

He settles next to her. He's wearing some kind of heavy knit shirt, artfully distressed jeans and fucking designer bracelets on.

"Merci, Olivia. I am Arthur."

Cool, hot French boy's name is Arthur. She's planning their wedding in her head already.

He extends a hand, long tanned fingers and manicured nails, eyes warm.

"I am flying to Sydney to audition, for the university."

Ah, a student. She shakes his hand, mentally counting the seconds, trying to figure out at what point it's weird or not to still be holding on. She stops at four.

"I'm going for-"

She nudges her duffel with her foot.

"-I'm actually stopping back at a friend's flat before I fly out again for a tennis competition. Are you arts, or...?"

He looks like an art student. Or a student who deserves art about him. Whatever, no difference to her.

His eyes light up, impressed.

"Tennis, very impressive. Are you a pro? And ah, music, hopefully."

That'll be tough. She's not sure if the university adds points for being hot or not, but surely there's some kind of modeling scholarship they can give him.

She can feel her cheeks heating up, which is as embarrassing as always.

"Pro, if I do well. Hopefully."

Arthur tilts his head, smile curling at his mouth.

"Well, future pro tennis player Olivia, I would love to get your number."

She's going to die. Play it cool, play it cool-

"Future professional musician Arthur, I would love to give it to you."

Thank god. When she gets to the flat she's going to curl in a ball and scream.

------

"So like-"

Logan is tossing the tennis ball in her hand, sitting on the court floor leaning against the wall. She doesn't get much about tennis, but she can serve well enough, and she doesn't know the rules, which is an exercise in creative thinking for Olivia.

"-he's hot,"

She's ticking off on her fingers.

"-French, dimples, a humanities student- he is one hundred percent your type, Liv."

Olivia scowls, pacing the court.

"Well, he hasn't text me, so the wedding is off."

Logan grins, lobbing the ball in her direction.

"Platonic marriage when we're forty is back on! Hell yeah."

Olivia swings, sending it flying back across the court.

"What happened to Kyle?"

Logan makes a face, reaching up to readjust her braid.

"We have 'different long term goals'. Douche speak for 'I want to party and sleep with other girls'."

Olivia winces, leaning down to snag a wayward ball.

"Sorry, Loges. You deserved better than him anyways."

Logan shrugs, tying the end of her braid off and tossing it over her shoulder as she stands, grabbing a racket and winking.

"It's whatever. Not all of us have French boys serenading us at public airports."

"That is not what happened-"

------

Logan is stretching down into a lunge, trying not to laugh as Liv attempts the same, struggling to keep her bangs out of her face.

"Should've brought a hair clip."

Liv scowls, eyes narrowed.

"It's this fucking cowlick, seriously."

"It's cute, don't hate it."

The comment earns her an annoyed side eye as they both stand, checking to make sure they have everything. Liv is wincing already, and she can tell that she's winding up the preemptive complaining.

"Tell me why I'm going running with you again?"

Every time.

Logan flashes her prettiest smile, the one that gets her assignment extensions, extra credit, and invited into frat parties when she's in the wrong sorority.

"Because I throw your fuzzy little balls for you, and you love me."

"Right."

The answer is dry and flat in a way that's very Liv, and Logan tries to ignore the way it makes her heart flip.

She keeps their pace easy, because she's technically on a rest day, and Liv doesn't run track, so Logan isn't going to put her through her normal run- mostly because she doesn't want her dead or hating her.

It's mile three when the question crawls out of her chest, finally bursting free from its ugly little cage it's been sitting in since Kyle dumped her.

"So like- Melbourne. What's that like?"

"Huh?"

Liv is out of breath, slowing her pace slightly to look sideways at Logan. She tries not to feel judged, even if she wishes she could take the question and shove it back in, ignore it the way she has been the last few weeks.

"Just wondering."

They're slowing to a walk, and she tries not to groan, because Olivia has her talking face on, and Logan doesn't really want to talk about it.

"Why, you thinking of moving?"

She's joking, but Logan flinches anyways, rapidly trying to backtrack when Liv's eyes blow wide.

"Not like- not permanently or whatever, I'm just. A semester or two? Like a change of scenery."

"Loges, that would be- I would be so excited if you did that, honestly. I would love to see you more often."

Ah, there goes Logan's heart again. She should get that checked out.

"I'm just thinking about it, Liv. Don't go crazy."

Liv beams at her, bunny teeth on display, and her cowlick has her bangs particularly bouncy on one side, and Logan needs to stop thinking about one of her best friends like that.

"Sure, yes, I promise to be completely normal about it. Totally."

Logan arches an eyebrow, and Liv flushes slightly, cringing.

"I promise to give it a few weeks before I start sending you all the restaurants we need to try together?"

That sounds more like her.

[tasty-littl-snack]

Ghost files Hinsdale House Debrief

Are You Scared of Maleviolent Influence?

Ryan being called out by others that he chose this life vs Ryan making up scenarios where he'd still choose to be a ghost hunter with Shane.

[hollis-art]

au idea... tng but it's set in the 80s and the enterprise is an apartment building rather than a ship

other tenants of the building include: -Picard (the head of the college that Data attends) and Q (no one really knows what he does, he just pops in and out whenever he pleases) -Troi (high school guidance counselor) and Riker (personal trainer) and Worf used to live here too but he moved out -Beverly (still a doctor) and Wesley (burnt out college freshman) -Barclay (works at Blockbusters w/ Data and Geordi) -Guinan (bartender of a secretly gay bar)

the ds9 apartment is a whole other story

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[just-an-enby-lemon]

The thing about jonmartin is that Martin wants to be a romantic, he loves poetry and probably watches romance but for him it is a fantasy, a silly game he plays. Martin is at his core very cynical. Things don't work out for him so he doesn't really belive in romance, it is a pretty dream but that's it. He is pratical and realist. Dating Jon he has to remind himself it is real and he actually struggles with romantic gestures, it is something he has to remind himself to do, to remind himself he can do even and honestly who even has the energy and what if Jon doesn't even like it?

Jon on the other hand wants to be cynical. His first coping mechanism was pretend the things he was afraid of weren't real and goddam if he isn't afraid of love. It didn't really work to him so far so it's easy to pretend he doesn't care. But he is a romantic at heart. He saw love and he read about it and he has enough evidence that it is undeniable. And to be honest Jon was always to much a bunch of mushy feelings hidden in a grumpy (and bitter and afraid) trench coat. Dating Martin he has to hold himself so he isn't too much. He plays the grumpy unromantic guy at first. But he just can't stop giving flowers and planing dates (this is the guy that saw a theme park on a fear domain and considered how he wanted to take Martin to a romantic ferris whell date [until he discovered Martin was afraid of them]) and making all the silly things one does when in love.

TR: Martin is deep down very cynical about love but wants to/pretends to be a romantic and Jon is deep down very romantic but wants to/pretends to be cynical about love.

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[hitsuyou-fukaketsu]

like an orchid

[shanastoryteller]

Dean’s minding his own business, sipping on a beer and leering at the bartender, when a guy that admittedly has about four inches and a good twenty pounds of muscle on him storms over and shoves him in the arm.

He tenses, getting to his feet and preparing for a fight even as he’s wondering what he did to piss him off. Maybe the bartender’s his girl? Jesus, Dean was just looking, he can’t get mad at just looking when his girl look likes that.

“Dude, what the hell?” the guy demands. “I know you’re pissed at me right now, but just leaving me back there – do you know how many bars it took to find you? You’re a jackass.”

He’s not taking a swing, instead standing with crossed arms – fuck, this guy is huge, he’d really like to avoid a fight here – and scowling at him, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looks down at him. Dean wishes he had any idea what was going on right now. “Look, man, relax.” The guy’s eyes narrow, his shoulders lifting and expanding as he takes in a deep breath, as if he needs any help to look bigger. Before he can say anything, Dean adds, “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Fuck off.” He presses his lips together, somehow appearing smaller in the next moment without actually moving. “Look, I know you’re mad about heaven, you’ve made that pretty fucking clear, but you can’t just walk off and turn off your phone. I figured you were just being an ass, but something could have happened to you. If you’re ignoring me, at least let me know you’re ignoring me.”

The guy doesn’t look like he’s tweaking, or suffering some sort of head injury. His eyes are clear and his voice is steady. But Dean has no idea what he’s talking about. “Dude, you’ve really got me confused with someone else.”

“Dean!” he snaps, which woah, okay, he wasn’t expecting that. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” he says. “How do you know my name?”

He stares at him, uncertainty entering his eyes for the first time. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t come across Zachariah or a witch or something in the past couple hours?”

He doesn’t know who Zachariah is, but the casual mention of witches makes him frown. Is this guy a hunter or something? He figures he’d remember meeting him, but maybe not.

“Everything okay over here?” Dad’s hand lands heavily on his shoulder, and Dean shifts enough to see him giving the guy a hard stare that has sent more than one man running in the other direction.

Dean almost rolls his eyes – he’s thirty one years old, he doesn’t need his dad coming over to save him – but he makes the effort so rarely that Dean can’t help but be warmed by it.

The guy pales, mouth dropping open as he stares at Dad like he’s seen a ghost. “You – Christo.”

Okay, definitely a hunter. Dad raises an eyebrow. “I’m not a demon.”

The guy grabs for Dean, yanking on his hand. Dean jerks back, but he’s already gotten his long fingers around his ring. He pulls it off and Dean is about to break his jaw to get it back, but he tosses it to Dad, who catches it on instinct. Dean doesn’t get it until he does. His ring is silver. He’s checking if Dad is a shifter, which okay, that’s one thing. Dean’s more concerned about how he knows his ring is silver. The guy’s voice cracks when he says, “Dad?”

Dad raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re a little confused.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” he asks, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. Dean should push him off. “What,” his gaze drops down, and if possible he goes even paler. “Oh. Oh, fuck.”

Dean looks down, sees the guy’s eyes stuck on his amulet. “What?”

“I don’t understand,” he says, biting on his lower lip. “Is this some sort of – but you’re still hunters. Is Mom alive?”

Dean flinches.

“Okay,” Dad says. “That’s enough. You walk this off or whatever, but you do it somewhere else–”

“Dad, it’s me,” he says plaintively. “It’s Sam. Your son.”

Dean doesn’t remember moving, only that the next moment his hands are fisted in the front of this asshole’s shirt, his blood thrumming under his skin. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

He puts his hands on Dean’s wrists, stupid earnest and soft and Dean’s going to kick his ass. “Dean. It’s me. I have to exist in this world, right? The demon was after me, if I wasn’t here then there wouldn’t have ben a fire, Mom wouldn’t have died, you guys wouldn’t be hunters. I have to be around somewhere.”

Dean tries to shove him away, but he won’t let go of his hands. “Shut up! You don’t – don’t talk about my family.”

The worst thing he ever did, his biggest failure. Sometimes the weight of it gets to be so heavy that it feels like it should be cracking his ribs, pressing his heart until it bursts. Sometimes he wishes it would.

He swallows before letting go with one hand and reaching into his pocket to pull something out. It takes Dean a moment to see it’s his amulet, the one he’s worn since he was twelve years old, back when Bobby still talked to them. “My name is Samuel Winchester. I was named after my mother’s father. I was born on May 2, 1983. When I was eight years old, Bobby gave me this amulet. He said it was a protection charm. I was originally planning to give it to Dad for Christmas, but he didn’t show up. Another in a long line of disappointments, right? So I gave it to you instead. Because even when you’re being a jerk, you’ve never let me down.”

Dean’s eyes are burning. He tries to shake off his grip, but he won’t let go. Why is Dad just standing there? “Stop! Stop. I don’t know what game you’re playing–”

“No game,” he says, gentle voice a counterpoint to the grip that’s absolutely going to bruise. “I need you to believe me, Dean, please–”

“My brother died when he was six months old,” he cuts him off. “Samuel Winchester is dead. He’s been dead for twenty six years.”

His fault, his fault, all his fault. If he’d just listened to Dad –

“Not where I’m from,” he says, and it’s crazy, it’s all crazy. “Please. Ask me anything. I’ll prove it. Hell, let’s go to a clinic, we can take a DNA test. I’m Sam. I’m your brother. And I need your help.”

“You mentioned a demon,” Dad says quietly.

The guy, who’s not Sam, who can’t be Sam, tears his eyes away from Dean to look at Dad. “Yeah. Azazel. The yellow eyed demon.”

Dad rubs a hand over his mouth. “I never told anyone about that.”

Dean snaps his head towards Dad. “What? You said you didn’t know what killed Mom! That we were searching for it!”

“We are,” Dad says. “It never resurfaced again. I’ve been looking for the signs.”

The guy frowns. “He started up again when I was twenty two.”

“Not here,” Dad says, looking him up and down, something hungry in his eyes.

Dad believes him. Dad thinks that this is Sammy.

“Let’s discuss this back at the room,” Dad says. “Come on.”

He heads towards the door, sure that he’s going to be followed. The – Sam, maybe Sam, he rolls his eyes, but goes after him. He only stops when his grip on Dean’s wrist jerks him back, because Dean’s not moving, can’t make himself move. He flushes, letting go of Dean finally, but he takes a step closer. His eyebrows pull together in concern, and now that Dean’s looking, he sort of sees it, sees the planes of Dad’s face and his eyes in this stranger with his brother’s name. “Hey, are you okay?”

No.

“Let’s go,” he says, striding forward, shoulders hunched.

Sam falls into step beside him easily, matching his strides like it’s second nature. Dean swallows around the lump in his throat and tries to pretend it means nothing.

[coffeebanana]

okay but what if. video game designer marinette...

[luna-loveboop]

... I don't think Four likes repetition

I would not try something again around him.

art by Jojo @linkeduniverse au :)

[aenslem]

THE RAVEN Star Trek: Voyager

[dailymanners]

Bear with me because I am about to rant about something not blog related that's been grating on me ever since this blog gained more traction

USAmericans being Americancentric vs. Europeans every single time someone says something they don't like or don't agree with or is just coming from a place of different experiences than them assuming you MUST be a USAmerican coming from a place of Americancentrism: fight

For context, I do not live in the U.S., and do not base my posts off of experiences in the U.S., and as much as I find it annoying that sometimes USAmericans reply to my posts with assumptions that their experiences are universal, for example USAmericans replying to my post about closing the lid before you flush with "but public toilets don't have lids!" when they do in my country, I find it equally annoying if not even more annoying with how much Europeans assume that every time I post something they disagree with or is a different experience than them that I must be USAmerican and coming from a place of Americancentrism

For example when I made a post saying "use excuse me if you have to get into someone else's personal space" I had a bunch of British people replying to it something along the lines of "Are you Americans so uncivilized that you're not taught basic manners like this? Good thing us civilized Brits know to use excuse me!" when, again, I do not live in the U.S., the post was based on experiences I had here in my country and again, not in the U.S.

Or when I made a post just saying "don't be rude to people who got you a present you don't like" because I've had experiences here in my country of people sneering at and tossing aside presents they didn't live or even yelling at or scolding the gift giver just because it wasn't a color that they like, I did not say that you have to pretend to like it, just don't be rude and sneer at them or yell at the gift giver, but I still had a bunch of Germans replying something like "well you Americans may think you have to pretend to like gifts you don't actually like but us Germans believe in being honest!" (even though that's not even what I was saying) when again, I am not in the U.S., I have never said that I am in the U.S., this was based on experiences in my country which is not the U.S., but Europeans had to go and assume everyone who says something they don't fully like or agree with must be USAmerican.

And I know it's not just me, I've seen a lot of posts from people here on Tumblr in South American or Asia saying that Europeans are always assuming they're USAmerican and coming from a place of Americancentrism when they talk about their experiences in South American or Asia.

I saw a quote one time that was something like "USAmericans believe the entire world is the U.S. while Europeans believe the entire world is Europe + the U.S."

but the thing is that I DO live in Europe, my country is a small northern European country, but of course my experiences are going to be different than someone who is British or German or Swedish, but it's like people from those countries so often assume their experiences are universal to everyone in their country + the rest of Europe, so if a British person experiences being taught to use excuse me that MUST be universal to Europe, and that apparently nobody outside of Europe and the U.S. is on Tumblr, so if I experience being shoved by people who don't use excuse me (in my tiny northern European country) that MUST mean I live in the U.S. and MUST be USAmerican since their British experiences MUST be universal to everyone else on this website who isn't USAmerican

[awesomenikie]

I will fall in love with you over and over again.

[perryelornitorrinco]

I needed to do a Link's Awakening animatic or I would explode, it's been for too many months in my head, and after two days glued to my ipad I finally finished this muhehe.

I wanted to use Strawberry Blonde by Mitsky but ugghhh I couldn't think of how to draw it, BUT, I discovered this song like a month ago and couldn't stop thinking about them TAT.

So yeah instead of chapter 2 I give you this wonky ahh animatic that made me cry in various ways instead. HOPE YOU LIKE IT :·3!!!!💖

It's my first time doing a long video with a few gifs and not just a small animation so yeah, expect it to be funny looking XDKJASHK!

[yourlocalabomination]

Nerdy Days

[wickerfox]

"You know, I see you in here all the time. What's your name again?"