#they truly are the blueprint <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[sun-marie]

Missing them 🥺

[acircusfullofdemons]

paracosm // fractured fables [victorian gothic: doghearted] || paras // lucibelle wolfe & reynard fox

Brother & Sister. A Boy and his Dog. Scientist and his Creation. Pirate FoxCorpse and a Living Dead DogGirlThing.

[gothsuguru]

OH MY GOD SUGURU IS *SO* HAKU CODED!!!!!!!! how did i not notice this .... ty for putting this in my mind ..... gonna be stewing in this for a while

HE TRULY BELONGS IN A STUDIO GHIBLI MOVIE!!!!!! he’s so haku-coded… young magical boy who cares about the people around him + wants to protect them + has/becomes a super cool dragon <333

[yuukei-yikes]

i was gonna make this post about novel bits that i delusionally believe are haruka&takane thinking the other is cute but then saw takane's next to haruka's and it's just kind of really funny because takane's so damn stupid and im basically reading between the lines to be like omg she thinks hes cute but for haruka... he's just. down bad

[oldestking]

    ❝ How do you merfolk meassure the pass of time?. Hmph.. Took you long enough. ❞ ( <- missed her )  /  @imarahuyo​

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

A Big TB Announcement

Greetings from Washington D.C., where I spent the morning meeting with senators before joining a panel that included TB survivor Shaka Brown, Dr. Phil LoBue of the CDC, and Dr. Atul Gawande of USAID. Dr. Gawande announced a major new project to bring truly comprehensive tuberculosis care to regions in Ethiopia and the Philippines. Over the next four years, this project can bring over $80,000,000 in new money to fight TB in these two high-burden countries.

Our family is committing an additional $1,000,000 a year to help fund the project in the Philippines, which has the fourth highest burden of tuberculosis globally.

Here’s how it breaks down: The Department of Health in the Philippines has made TB reduction a major priority and has provided $11,000,0000 per year in matching funds to go alongside $10,000,000 contributed by USAID and an additional $1,000,000 donated by us. This $22,000,000 per year will fund everything from X-Ray machines, medications, and GeneXpert tests to training and employing a huge surge of community health workers, nurses, and doctors who are calling themselves TB Warriors. In an area that includes nearly 3,000,000 people, these TB Warriors will screen for TB, identify cases, provide curative treatment, and offer preventative therapy to close contacts of the ill. We know this Search-Treat-Prevent model is the key to ending tuberculosis, but we hope this project will be both a beacon and a blueprint to show that It’s possible to radically reduce the burden of TB in communities quickly and permanently. It will also, we believe, save many, many lives.

—

I believe we can’t end TB without these kinds of public/private partnerships. After all, that’s how we ended smallpox and radically reduced the global burden of polio. It’s also how we’ve driven down death from malaria and HIV. For too long, TB hasn’t had the kind of government or private support needed to accelerate the fight against the disease, but I really hope that’s starting to change. I’m grateful to USAID for spearheading this project, and also to the Philippine Ministry of Health for showing such commitment and prioritizing TB.

—

One reason this project is even possible: Both the cost of diagnosis (through GeneXpert tests) and the cost of treatment with bedaquiline are far lower than they were a year ago, and that is due to public pressure campaigns, many of which were organized by nerdfighteria. I’m not asking you for money (yet); Hank and I will be funding this in partnership with a few people in nerdfighteria who are making major gifts. But I am asking you to continue pressuring the corporations that profit from the world’s poorest people to lower their prices. I’ve seen some of the budgets, and it’s absolutely jaw-dropping how many more tests and pills are available because of what you’ve done as a community.

—

I don’t yet have the details on which region of the Philippines we’ll be working in, but it will be an area that includes millions of people–perhaps as many as 3 million. And it will include urban, suburban, and rural areas to see the different responses needed to provide comprehensive care in different communities. This will not (to start!) be a nationwide campaign, because even though $80,000,000 is a lot of money, it’s not enough to fund comprehensive care in a nation as large as the Philippines. But we hope that it will serve as a model–to the nation, to the region, and to the world–of what’s possible. 

—

I’m really excited (and grateful) that our community gets to have a front-row seat to see the challenges and hopefully the successes of implementing comprehensive care. Just in the planning, this project has involved so many contributors–NGOs in the Philippines, global organizations like the Partners in Health community, USAID, the national Ministry of Health in the Philippines, and regional health authorities as well. There are a lot of partners here, but they’ve been working together extremely well over the last few months to plan for this project, which will start more or less immediately thanks to their incredibly hard work.

[drabblesandimagines]

Cramped

Inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting prompt 1080! "I can't stop thinking about kissing you." "And what are you going to do about that?" Leon Kennedy x gn reader

“I can’t do this.” Leon mutters under his breath, but you hear it as clear as day from your position.

How could you not, seeing as you’re currently only an inch away from his chest, his head nearly resting atop your own?

You’ve been trapped in this tiny storage cupboard for at least 20 minutes now, waiting for Hunnigan to give the all-clear that all 27 heat signals had dispersed from outside your current location. You would describe yourself as a relatively decent shot, Leon more so, but the numbers weren’t in your favour.

“Claustrophobic?” You whisper back, cautious that your voice may carry. You wish you could shift your left foot ever so slightly, currently standing awkwardly over a bucket that was sat at the bottom at the cupboard when you entered.

“No.” He has his hands braced either side of you against the opposite wall, seemingly caging you in more than the cupboard is. Your arms awkwardly hung by your side, painfully aware of how if you moved even slightly forward you’d be pressing your front into his chest, fingers ghosting against his hips.

“I can’t do this.” Leon says again. “Missions - with you.”

“Oh, come on,” you wish you could step back so you could give him a proper withering stare. “You can’t blame me every time something goes wrong. The intel definitely said only five guards were on site at any one time.”

“No. I mean, I…” He’d rub the bridge of his nose if he could bring his arm forward to do it without hitting you in the process. “I can’t concentrate.” You scoff, immediately defensive. “And how is that my fault?” “Because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you!” Silence. “Oh.” “Yes, oh.” He mocks, frustrated. He's meant to be better than this. Hell, he usually is when the two of you are paired up. Leon’s flirty, sure, but he knows to be professional when it’s a matter of life and death, and trapped in a cupboard with a number of hostiles outside is definitely a time when he should be at his most focused. But ever since the two of you retreated in here, all he can think about is how close you are, how good you smell, the warmth of your body pressed up against his, how he could place his fingers under your chin, tilt your head up… “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Sorry?” He looks down at you in disbelief, sure he’s misheard. “I said,” you lift your hand and trail your fingers up his chest before you rest it just above his pounding heart and meet those soft blue eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

He doesn’t need a third invitation, dropping his hands from the wall. One arm wraps around your waist, bringing you needlessly forward that final inch, your left thigh finding its way between his in lieu of anywhere else to go. His other hands grabs the back of your head and tilts it up to meet his lips, stealing your breath with a deep, frantic kiss... Hunnigan smiles to herself as she leans back in her chair at HQ, your voices falling silent on the comms in what she suspects is the result of other activity – Leon had left the channel open when you'd been forced to find cover. It’s only when she hears Kennedy let out a muffled moan that she taps to disconnect the audio, her suspicions now well and truly confirmed. The computer screen in front of her shows a blueprint of the factory, where two red dots reside in the small storage cupboard she’d directed them to after she’d ‘alerted’ them to the unwelcome company. She still needs to work out how to explain the sudden disappearance of 27 hostiles, but it’s worth it so she won’t be forced to watch the two of you dance awkwardly around each other in the office anymore.

--- This is probably the closest to a drabble I've ever gotten despite my blog name, ha! Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Thanks to @porcelainseashore for helping me clarify the ending <3

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - November 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Agrivoltaics for sustainable food, energy and water management in East Africa

“[… C]ertain crops […] thrived under the partial shade provided by solar panels. The shade also helped to reduce water loss through evaporation, leading to more efficient water usage. Additionally, rainwater harvested from the panels could be used to supplement irrigation needs.”

2. The world’s largest wildlife crossing is now standing in California

“The structure crosses a 10-lane freeway and has been built to help protect all sorts of wildlife[….] And it’s not just for fauna: some 5,000 plants grown from seed collected within a five-mile radius have been nurtured in two specially created nurseries. The bridge will be topped with wildflowers, shrubs and native grasses that will also benefit insect populations.”

3. Judge rules the military must cover gender-affirming surgery for members' dependents

“[Judge] Torresen found that [gender-affirming] surgery is indeed medically necessary and that the Defense Department had not shown that any important governmental interest was advanced by denying the coverage.”

4. Social Media Can Boost Caracal Conservation

“The team found that searches on the species doubled after the project [using “social media to educate about the caracal”] launched. […] ”The research demonstrates how a public interest in urban ecology and the global phenomenon of ‘cats on the internet’… can be harnessed to leverage conservation action.””

5. US Labor Board Bans Captive Audience Meetings to Ensure 'Truly Free' Worker Choice

“[T]he National Labor Relations Board on Wednesday ruled that employers cannot force workers to attend anti-union speeches. [… W]orkers will no longer have to take part in so-called "captive audience meetings," which employers often use as a union-busting tool and a form of coercion.”

6. Study links grazing with plant phenology and abundance

“In general, plants where caribou or muskoxen were present experienced earlier green-up and greater abundance later in the growing season. “We're used to thinking of the timing of plant availability as impacting the productivity of grazing animals, but not the reverse," Post said.”

7. Frog populations once decimated by disease mount a major comeback

“"These results provide a rare example of how reintroduction of resistant individuals can allow the landscape-scale recovery of disease-impacted species, and have broad implications for amphibians and many other taxa that are threatened with extinction by novel pathogens."”

8. California Announces Special Session To Protect Trans People

“Newsom’s directive is clear: safeguard reproductive healthcare, support immigrants, and shield LGBTQ+ people from what is viewed as existential threats to civil rights and democratic norms. […] California has a unique opportunity to set the blueprint for other states in resisting a Trump administration[….]”

9. When ‘OK, Boomer’ Means ‘Let’s Go Protest’

“Youth activists across the country recognize the efforts of their eco-minded predecessors and welcome them as mentors, role models, and collaborators in their battle against the climate crisis. […] “The idea that Boomers don’t care, he said, is “just misinformation.””

10. How Aussie Waste Warriors are Redirecting Excess Food to Those in Need

“A growing movement is working to reduce perfectly good food going to waste by redirecting it to homes and charities. [… C]haritable organisations [… are] transforming fresh produce that would otherwise have gone to waste into millions of cooked, nutritious meals for people in need each year.”

November 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[caeunot]

johnnie guilbert x reader

➷ breeding kink plus some fluff :3

PSA: the johnnie ive written about is the fictional version we all have in our minds, we truly don't know how he actually is and it's good to make a balance to avoid any uneasy or parasocial feelings when writing about a real person.

you and johnnie have been dating for around three years and you already decided that he is the man you are going to marry, you two are both almost 30 now which is terrifying but it also is making your baby feaver worsen.

you have always wanted kids and johnnie knows that, he never was fully against it but he always looked a bit awkward when you two would talk about it.

johnnie also knows that you have an extreme breeding kink, which has led to a lot of roleplay in the bed but you feel it's time to do something a bit more official.

when one of your friends asked to babysit their 17 month old baby you agreed! one part because you love kids and other so that you can give yourself and johnnie (mainly johnnie) a feel for how it's like to be a parent.

"thanks so much you guys! we haven't had an actual break for so long we need this.", "it's our pleasure I promise we will take good care of lil jess". your friend passes her into your arms and johnnie bends down and pokes her arm. "hey jess! I'm Johnny and I'll help look after you for the next few days :D"

you start unpacking all the baby stuff like diapers the toys and milk, johnnie watches you in awe and for almost every item asks you questions about it. "and what about this?" he says pointing to a cream. "that's for diaper rashes! their bums are super sensitive so it's important to add after changing a diaper". " so u gotta like.. rub it on and stuff...".

you laugh at him and he laughs back, but his laughing stops when you mention how he will have to try change her a few times himself. eventually you two settle everything in and you teach him the basics like how to feed them and how to make the bottles.

"okay can u put in microwave for 20 seconds! she prefers it warm". johnnie put the bottle in and started staring intensively into the microwave, you can't help but let out a laugh by accident making your hand immediately smack your mouth. "okay what was that for!! I thought I was doing this properly.." you walk over to him and put your arms around his waist. "I laughed because you looked so cute doing it baby, I'd love to make you a dad"

that comment made him turn his head to the side as his face went a bit red, you remove your hands from his waist and use it to guide his face to yours and you two share a deep kiss.

that night after putting jess to sleep in her fold out crib you and johnnie cuddled on the bed while watching some tv when johnnie turns to face you, "do you think I'd make a good dad?". " johnnie are you kidding?! you would make an amazing dad! you have such an sweet nature and you are the perfect mix of playful and serious, baby your the blueprint for a perfect dad" he let out a big gummy smile after that and pulled you on top of him and you two start making out for awhile before falling asleep in each other's arms.

at the end of the weekend you two had learned a lot, you learned that johnnie actually is really good with playing with babies.. not so much the unfun stuff like diapers and spit but that's something you get used to over time. and johnnie learned that there was nothing more than he wanted at that moment than to make you a mom, the way you were to gentle and sweet to the baby and the way you knew exactly how to do everything with her. honestly he found it really hot. that's why that night after jess went back home he took your hand and started to gently lead you to the bedroom.

"johnnie you weirdo what are you doing!" you say jokingly as he closes the bedroom door and pushes you onto the bed. he leans over you and whispers in your ear, "im ready" knowing you would know exactly what he ment. you immediately reached for his face and you two share a deep kiss and slipped tongue, he picked you up slowly to push you further onto the bed and immediately took off his shirt and pants as you do the same.

he crawls towards you like a hungry animal, while sitting on your thighs he starts kissing your belly and slowly gets higher and higher till he's finally kissing your face. in between the kisses you moan out, "fuck me johnnie, fuck a baby into me". you could see how much those words did something to him because with no hesitation he immediately starts pulling down your panties, but instead of what you expected he slipped his hand in between your legs. he slipped 2 fingers in making you shudder and hold the sheets as he went back and forth inside of you before letting one finger out and using it to rub your clit slowly.. enough to where it's making you go crazy but not enough to orgasam just yet

after a few minutes he takes his soaking fingers out and licks them, "are you ready darling?" he asks you in a sweet whisper without actually giving you time to answer as he slips it in almost instantly

he starts grinding back on forth inside of you and leans forward to start kissing you and grabbing your boobs to keep him steady, after a little bit of him going slow you decided to speed things up by pushing up your hips making his dick go deeper inside you, taking him off guard he let out an accidental whimper. this was enough to make him go harder and faster.

and harder and faster he did

the whole bed was screeching as you two rocked it back and forth, you have never seen johnnie like this before, he normally is really sweet and gentle but this time he's being really rough, he's digging his nails into your back and leaving bite marks all over your chest.

"after this your all mine y/n.. this is me claiming you" and as he says that he moans and grips onto you harder and you feel his warm seed filling you.

when he took it out he immediately stuck his finger back inside to make sure you don't loose any of the baby batter he gave you.

❣

[hotvintagepoll]

Dwight Frye (Dracula, Frankenstein)—he's my babygirl please please please please please i want to baby bird feed him flies and spiders and pick him up and make glitter edits of him and give him gross forehead kisses like he's my cat. in dracula he was so incredibly creepy that he was typecast as madmen for the rest of his life and he fucking hated it but by god if he didn't do a fantastic job. he steals the show every time he's up on screen just because he's so fucking deranged. i need him

Thelma Ritter (Rear Window, All About Eve)—So little! Barely 5 feet tall! So scrungly! Working class accent and regular person looks constantly surrounded by gorgeous people! Snarky as hell!

This is round 3 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Dwight:

He absolutely owns the entirety of Dracula (1931). Compared to the novel, his part is massively expanded and it's clear why. He's magnetically unhinged and his facial expressions are pure scrungle. And in Frankenstein, he begins the archetype of Frankenstein's assistant even if the character's name there is Fritz. He'd still go on to play other scrungly guys in later Frankenstein movies. But he's kinda the archetypal and progenitor of the scrungly lil guy. The scrungliest guy ever to scrungle. He's pretty much the blueprint for every mad scientist's assistant, and he's the best part of every movie he's in. He manages to make you feel sorry for the creepy little dudes, even when he's eating spiders and crawling across the floor. [editor's note: content warning for the "hunchback" stereotype and "madness" in the clips below]the "Rats" soliloquy:

I saw him in Dracula and frankly he has me bewitched. I could watch him do his silly routine forever. The gay tension with Bela Lugosi onscreen was frankly unparalleled. Kirk and Spock levels. I am chewing on the furniture

Played the weirdo little guy in Dracula AND the weirdo little guy in Frankenstein in the same year. Iconic.

The scrungles to end all scrungles! There's a reason why this man codified the manic vampire's familiar and the hunchbacked lab assistant for generations, because by God can this man be feral and scrungly: Whether he's soliloquizing about rats as Renfield, scurrying around Frankenstein's lab like a spider as Fritz, or skulking around dark alleys (and scaring the hell out of little baby me) waiting for a fresh heart to steal as Karl, if you want a scrungly little man for your classic film, Dwight Frye is your man. He has the range to play varying kinds of scrungle, with his wide eyes, his manic smiles, his soft, breathy voice, he is truly an undisputed scrungle master.

I honestly think it would be a crime to ignore Dwight Frye's scrungle factor. He played two of the prototypical creepy little henchman as Dracula's lackey Renfield and Dr. Frankenstein's hunchback servant Fritz, and I believe that his excellence in these roles absolutely shaped the future character tropes of the "Igor" type as much as Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff shaped the future understanding of Dracula and Frankenstein's monster. He's got it all from the looks, to the manic energy, to the crazed laugh, I'm telling you right now that I think he could win the entire tournament.

Thelma:

she wants to kill santa claus so bad for the first half of this clip. "thats fine. thats just dandy. mama wants to..thank santa claus too."

[spaghettiposts]

To be loved

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summery: You’ve never known love, until Tara.

Warnings: Fluff, lovey dovey words, mentions of Ghostface attacks, fluff fluff fluff, wlw, neglectful parents, hurt/comfort.

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: This was just a bunch of word-vomit I came up with in the spam of 3 days, reader definitely has been neglected but Tara’s here to fix that <3

You’d say love was one of the things you missed most, a missing puzzle piece to your emotions. Absent parents tended to do that being busy with work and all, love only feeling like a distant concept because of it. Sure, you knew they cared for you—deep down somewhere, but not enough to take a day off. The more you thought about it, the more that nagging voice in your head mocked you; not once did they take a day off. 

There were fleeting moments of jealousy you felt, gazing desperately—longingly—at your friends and their mothers, wishing for just a fraction of that affection. The ache of longing never quite left, as you watched them being cared for, held close, and repeating the same wishful thinking. You never truly got to experience that, but swiftly pushed those feelings aside, burying them.

 By high school, you became pretty good at patching up your own wounds and learning to live on your own. Maybe that was for the best.

You learned to rely on yourself. 

That was until college, Blackmore University. A relatively close college to your house, the commute was doable and hey, you actually liked some of the classes. Your parents had encouraged you to attend first, explaining how getting a degree in engineering would really help you take over their business someday.

You hesitated to tell them that wasn’t what you wanted. Not if it meant having to put work before others, you didn’t wanna be like them. 

Still, you went along with it, taking the classes they suggested. Amidst the sea of blueprints,  you had picked up an appreciation of the art of film. Deciding to take a class for yourself, you signed up for Film History. Later, it was the best decision you ever made. 

And the first time you met Tara Carpenter. 

She was undoubtedly beautiful, anyone with eyes could see, but it was the radiance surrounding her that truly mesmerized you. Indisputably, you folded like a table. The effortless confidence she emitted during class discussions, the stubborn fire inside her, and her unabashed passion for something as simple as filmmaking—it seemed like the whole world to her. 

It only took a group project for her number to end up in your phone, and it only took a party for her to slam her lips against your own.  

With her, you found a happiness previously unknown to you. Every moment turned into the highlight of your week,  you were absolutely head over heels for your girlfriend. From tender first dates ending in soft slow kisses on her doorstep, to the cozy movie nights leaving your lips swollen and your cheeks flushed, and between those; gentle moments of care. They blossomed a newfound sense of joy in you, and in Tara. 

Day after day you effortlessly fell into new habits, soaking up every second of them. You learned Tara loved to smile between kisses, while she, in turn, learned you enjoyed the feeling of your hair being toyed with. It was all just perfect. 

However, as time went on, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Tara drifting away. Her sudden coldness left you stunned and hurt. The more you tried to talk, the more she pushed you away. But you weren’t one to back down so easily, confronting her in her apartment one last time, seeking some closure. 

 It only took a month for Tara to be honest with you, and fearfully so. Through shedded tears and shaking hands, she explained to you, and you listened. It hurt you to see her hurting, expressing vulnerability she hadn’t allowed you to see. Her arms came up to hug herself and you’d never wanted to punch Ghostface more. 

Tara half expected you to walk away, laugh at her, and leave her like the rest of them but you made it clear you weren’t leaving. You spent the entire afternoon by her side, determined to prove her wrong and keep her safe, whispering murmurs of promises between kisses. Holding her close until tears subsided and drifted off to sleep, thoroughly exhausted from it all, peacefully in your arms. 

Following her confession, it felt as if a weight had been lifted off Tara’s shoulders and your relationship picked up from where it stopped. Your bond with the shorter girl only grew stronger, surpassing previous boundaries as you both delved into a deeper understanding of one another. Tara clung to you, unwilling to let you slip away, and gradually, you found yourself spending more nights at her place than your own. And truth be told, you didn’t mind that one bit. 

As much as you wished everything could continue perfectly, a coward in a mask would only try to ruin it all. 

——

It had been a week since the latest run-in with Ghostface, A week since your left arm got slashed up. Tara was absolutely livid, and you wondered if her anger was directed more at the attacker or at you. Either way she let Chad hear it when she learned you had “heroically” taken the hit for him — though she preferred to call it stupid rather than heroic. You didn’t argue with her on it. Fortunately, Chad was able to pick himself up and knock out the idiot before he could do more.

Despite that fury she held inside her, you could see the worry etched on her face, bordering on tears, during your hospital stay.

Days later you’d learn he was just some deranged kid trying to be “Funny”. He was promptly arrested by the police and sent to a hospital. You’d never seen Sam so disgusted. 

Considering the circumstances, you were fine. Mentally? Probably not, you hadn’t had time to reflect on it. Physically? That’s where it was hitting most. The scars left by his knife only got progressively worse as time passed. Chad was quick to call an ambulance for you, and you thanked the man greatly, holding onto his shoulders for support. 

The doctors affirmed the bone wasn’t too severely damaged but it would need time to heal. Hence the blue cast hanging from your shoulder. 

But the strangest part wasn’t your injured arm - it was Tara’s behavior. You understood that she was reliving the whole ordeal all over again and tried your best to comfort her. But it seemed just being around you, without fail, brought tears back into her eyes. With time, she was starting to recover too, but she stayed unusually quiet. Despite this, she never left your side, not even for a moment. Like right now, she sat beside you, on your good side, as you watched a movie together in her room. 

You didn’t want this attack to get in the way of your relationship or mess things up, so you insisted on keeping things normal - like movie nights and when you were both up for it, date nights. 

Tonight, Tara picked a Disney movie, probably to keep things light after what happened. You tried not to let your heart swell too much at her consideration. 

“Sit up for me,” Tara mumbled out of nowhere, pulling you out of your thoughts. You furrowed your eyebrows but did as she asked, watching as she disappeared into the bathroom and came back holding a familiar red box. 

“Tara, I’m okay.” You lied. 

She arched an eyebrow, reading completely through you but didn’t say anything, simply opening the kit and motioning for you to swing your legs off the bed. 

You sighed, complying with her words knowing better than to argue. 

“You’ve been scratching at your shoulder this entire time. I know it’s bothering you. Let me change it.” She said softly.

Pursing your lips, you nodded, giving her the go-ahead. You understood that helping you made her feel better, even though you constantly reassured her that it wasn’t her fault.

Sitting straight up, you watched as she delicately unwrapped the gauze, marveling at her gentle touch. A shiver ran down your spine as the fresh air hit the wound, her eyes softening as they fell upon the scar. She then grabbed some cotton balls and applied alcohol to them, causing you to hiss at the burning sensation.

“Sorry.” She murmured, leaning in to press a kiss on your cheek before blowing softly on the cut. “I don’t want it to get infected, it’ll just get worse.” 

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. It felt good, having someone care for you like this. More than you’d ever admit, really. The thought of how much you secretly loved Tara fussing over you was too embarrassing to acknowledge fully. 

You couldn't help but relish in the feeling of being looked after, of having someone fuss over you with such genuine concern. It was comforting, reassuring even, to know that you weren't facing this ordeal alone, that someone was there to support you every step of the way. 

As her fingers delicately adjusted the bandage, ensuring it was snug yet not too tight, your heart spoke before you could stop it. And just like that, the words spilled out, unfiltered and sincere: “I love you.”

Tara froze, the silence turning deafening. Her fingers pressed slightly harder against you, fingernails digging into your shoulder but you didn’t comment on it, too overwhelmed by your own anxiety and fear that she could hear how fast your heart was beating. After a beat of silence, she continued wrapping the fabric, cutting it off once she finished. Yet, her touch lingered, eyes fixated on the injury, her thumb softly rubbing against your shoulder. 

A small sniffled escaped her, and she stood up abruptly. Covering herself with her arm to wipe away tears. Your heart sank, fearing you had ruined everything.

“You shouldn’t.” She whispered, her voice barely audible, as she rubbed her arms in search of comfort. “I’ll just get you hurt.” 

Your eyes softened, heartbreaking at the sight of her vulnerability. It was a side of her you had only seen once before, the last time you nearly broke up. A look you didn’t want to see.

“Tara, don’t say that.” 

“It’s the truth, everywhere I go he follows.” She choked out, her eyes glistening, “You’ll never be happy constantly looking behind your shoulder, living in fear.” 

You stood up, pausing in front of the shorter girl. Tara sighed, shaking her head and turning away. Your hand gently lifted her chin, and you leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek, coaxing her shaken eyes to look at you. Very seriously you uttered, “Every time I'm with you I feel more secure than ever in my entire life. We take care of each other, I’ll take care of you. I love you, Tara.” 

Tara shudders, her head leaning against your forehead, letting the words wash over her. Your arm rubs softly against hers, while you pepper kisses along the side of her face, expressing your feelings through touch. 

Shakingly, her nails grip tighter against your back. “If you’re gonna keep saying that- you have to mean it.” She affirms, pulling back to look at you,  “You can’t just say that and leave, not anymore.”

You nod in agreement, finally, leaning down to capture her lips between your own, pulling her into a loving kiss. “I mean it, I love you.” You whisper against her lips. 

Tara swallows, before letting out a watery laugh. “I love you too, god I do.” 

Her hands find a home between your neck, pulling you in closer into a much firmer and passionate kiss. Your stomach tightens, and you shiver when her tongue slides in effortlessly, melting at her touch. 

Getting lost in the moment, your feet move before you realize it, and your knees hit the bed. Tara gasps in surprise, clutching onto you for support and you wince at the sudden pressure to your cast. 

You let out a breathy chuckle, sinking back into the mattress, Tara quickly joining in to meet you. The room fills with shared laughter, a moment of light amidst it all. Being mindful of your arm, Tara moves to lay by your side once again, draping an arm across your chest. She presses a lingering kiss to your neck, sighing against you.

You recall your previous conversation. And you wanted to say she had nothing to worry about—nothing to be scared of. But you both knew the truth of the cruel world you lived in. Safety wasn’t something you could guarantee, not to Tara, and not to yourself. 

Instead, you pulled the girl closer, her body adjusting to fit with yours, her head resting on your neck. If physical contact was what she needed to sleep for tonight and any night, you could provide that. Pressing a tender kiss to her head, you placed your chin on top of her, reveling in the moment, focusing on the small patterns she traced on your skin. 

And just for once, without fear, Tara let her eyes close. Slowly falling asleep in your warm embrace, completely reassured that you wouldn’t be leaving her.

[uno-san]

Oohhhh I can totally see Bill threatening to hurt or even off you after Ford broke things off with him.

Perhaps he wanted to reach out to you for help because he had a small sliver of hope that you, with your heart which was a size too big for your own good, might just come to his aid if he asked, even if you were upset with him. But then he was afraid of letting Bill get anywhere near you, so he endured all of the torture and abuse, just so long as he didn’t touch you.

Do what you will with this idea.

OOOHHH GOOOD this ask sent me in a spiral as I immediately had ideas for italsdfjlsaflfj Thank you so much for sending in an ask, especially since I love seeing your posts!

Sorry this took so long but please, enjoy the angst~

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

Each tick brought a new needling pain to his already frantic mind. How could such a small, incessant sound be so torturous? For every count that was marked down on the small watch it brought a harsh reminder to the pacing scientist; his eyes were bloodshot, dry, and torn. No matter what he’d do one would even bleed onto whatever project he’s started on to try and save his life. Everyone’s life.

Stanford Pines has been awake for 3 days.

Tick

  Tick

Tick

“Goddammit!”

Research notes and project blueprints were scattered everywhere with one mighty drag of his arm across the once-cluttered desk. Around him loose papers hovered uselessly in the air, as if they were trying to offer him a solution in the now discarded pile. He paid them no mind. They were just another idea down the gutter.

This time, a truly foolish one. He had called it the Bill-Proof Suit (Name Pending) and if he had a proper amount of sleep he would have seen sooner what a joke it truly was. Stanford’s concept was solid, naturally, the issue was the actual construction. That’s where the joke was.

He needed Fiddleford.

Fiddleford was long gone now. If Stanford hadn’t already chased him away the day of the portal incident there was no doubt Bill would have done the job himself. The man’s mechanical knowledge far exceeded Ford’s own. That’s what gained him a spot on this project in the first place. And now, it was laughable to think Ford had a hand in sabotaging such a pivotal partnership. A friendship. God, how that word felt so bitter now.

Bill had been his friend. His muse as well, but more importantly his friend. Fiddleford had been too. Stanford pushed him away, revealing that the one he had left was a guillotine waiting to drop. A conman from the very moment Ford had made the mistake of summoning him, lying the very second he appeared. The best lie Bill ever told was that Stanford was a genius.

In truth, Ford was an idealistic fool too over his head. Hunted in his own home until the day his mind would break and give in to what Bill wanted. But it would be a cold day in hell before Stanford ever gave in without a fight. For if he couldn’t keep the bastard out of his body, there was still one way to thwart him yet.

Scatter his research. Not destroy it, but spread it far so that no other fool under Bill’s thumb could recreate Ford’s work. It shouldn't be difficult. Ford had already sought to hide his other two journals due to previous threats. All that remained of his recorded mistakes were his first journal. This one needed special handling. The other two, while well hidden, still remained in Gravity Falls. Journal 1 would need to see a swift exit out to the world unknown.

But how?

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

With a growl of frustration Ford dropped himself into an aging chair that had been pushed out of the way to make room for his pacings. One arm rested across his knee while the other stayed propped up on his elbow to hold his head up; a dangerous position, considering his exhaustion. Though bleary his eyes focused on a nearby chalkboard with hastily scrawled names on its black surface. He���s been stuck on this awhile.

Fiddleford was out. No doubt about that with how they had departed. Unfortunately that meant that Stanford would have to find help outside of the initial project, which will prove to be risky at best and time-consuming at worst to get them caught up on the stakes of the mission. That left little to consider.

Already that knocked his parents out of the running. They were getting too old to do what was needed to keep his research safe. Not to mention what they’d think of Stanford started going off about demons and otherworldly powers.

You lost them millions, Stanford. Never even impressed your father and now you want them to help you? When was the last time you called?

Stanford’s body froze. Only the slow movement of his eyes showed signs of life as they drifted to each dark corner of the room. Had he said that? He gathered the courage to check over his shoulder. There was no one. His fingers tapped against his knee as the truth of the whispered words began to sink in. Would they even answer his call?

Tick

  Tick

Tick

Focus!

Right…right. Who else?

Nobody in town would be jumping at the chance to help him. Stanford never made the effort. Couldn’t make it, to be more accurate. Never was good at talking to people. Bill had helped with that isolation though Ford couldn’t place as much blame on him as he wanted to.

If he had the money, this would be a far easier task. Thanks, however, to his constantly running lab and testing of the portal during its construction even his generous grant money was dwindling down to pennies. Not even that tie he sold to the government went far. That was spent to get them to turn the other way for Ford’s more questionable purchases (Or thefts).

They wouldn’t have talked to you anyway. Not without a carnival banner to let them know the freakshow was in town.

Stanford’s hand swept up in his hair; his thumb resting outside the greasy mess to instead prop his eyelid open. The air stung. It was manageable compared to the heat of annoyance beginning to rise in his chest. Was this the best he could manage? Stanford Pines, life forever in ruins now just because he didn’t think to make silly small talk over a burnt cup of coffee?! Surely, there had to be somebody else to turn to-

You already know who you want to go crawling back to. To be safe in their arms again. Despite already chasing them off you know you want to drag them back into all of this. You want-

Stanford shot up from his chair. The rapid movement caused it to swivel while Ford’s hand grabbed hold of a long forgotten experiment; he shouted a guttural “NO!” before hurling the hunk of junk at the source of the voice. It shattered against the wall.

Both hands were knotted up into fists while Ford’s shoulders shook with a fury he couldn’t control. His lips were drawn back in a snarl as he continued to face off against nothing. This being the most he’s been awake in days being the only blessing of an already cursed conversation.

“No, I’m not doing this to them again, I’m not!” Stanford’s eyes followed a foe that wasn’t there, now facing a different side of the room, “They’re gone now and there’s nothing I can or will do to ever risk them coming back here. I can handle all this myself!”

Not that you’d get any help after what you did.

Stanford staggered back. Like the flame of his anger had been blown out and he’d been left with the ashes of guilt. He looked so unsure. Different compared to his conviction on stopping Bill once and for all.

“That was Bill, I didn’t want-”

Bill, who can read your mind? Bill, who has known you more intimately than you ever have your ‘partner’ know? Well, now's your chance. You look like shit. Everything around you is falling apart. One look at you and they’d come racing to your side. You want-

“ENOUGH!”

Stanford might have given in if he had heard your name. He now grabbed onto the abandoned chair and threw it against the next wall with all his might, praying that the sound of destruction would tune out that predatory voice poisoning his mind. It was just as awful as that-

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

That-

Tick

  Tick

Tick

THAT GODDAMN TICKING NOISE!

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

The man fell onto his knees in a heap. In spite of the danger of it all his eyes were skewed shut while the flat of his palms covered his ears like a spoiled child. Now on top of all he was trying to shut out he could hear the thunderous pounding of his heartbeat in face of the near mental break. But it was all in vain.

Stanford could hear the ticking of the stopwatch counting down another waking hour. The whispers, Bill, and…and the memories of 3 days ago replaying in his mind, again and again.

___

The day had already begun strangely. Not in the sense that when Stanford arose he didn’t know where he’d wake up, or that he was covered in mysterious injuries that he’s sure he didn’t want to know the origin of. None of that. That was, quite horridly, becoming Ford’s new reality until he gave in to Bill Cipher’s demands. Which would be never.

No, what made this day bizarre was that Stanford had woken up in bed. No ditch or jail cell. His actual bed inside his own home. When he had realized this Stanford had been quick to search the room for any signs of a trap. He didn’t get the chance to look long before he noticed that his hand had been clutched around something. As per usual his hands had been bloodied across the knuckles (which would sting to patch up later), but wrapped around and bundled into his palm was…hair?

The dread in his gut only deepened when he had given the hair a conspiratory sniff and recognized a scent that used to provide him comfort. It was the smell of your shampoo. It was after the horror began to dawn on him that Stanford noticed the corner of a tape poking out from beneath his pillows.

‘Play Me: Part 2’

The scene opened up to a hotel room, identified only by the luggage rack in the corner currently occupied by its namesake. Within the focal point of the shot was an empty bed and a window barely fitting into frame. Both the stillness and odd positioning of the shot suggested that the camera wasn’t being held at all; it was hidden on the tv stand.

Out of frame a door must have shut. Following after were the familiar sounds of ruffling fabric before the main light had been turned off, leaving only the bedside lamp to provide proper lighting. Then you walked onto the screen.

Wearing a pair of familiar pajamas, slippers, and a book in hand, you were yawning as you began to climb and settle into bed. You must have been staying in that room for a long while to be as comfortable as you look. Despite just opening your book you’re interrupted with a yawn, making you huff in frustration and stubbornly set your nightly entertainment down. The pout that Stanford always found cute was displayed prominently on your face. It was almost domestic.

It wasn’t long after until you reached over to turn off the lamp nearby. Immediately the room was shrouded with darkness; save for a sliver of light escaping past the curtains to illuminate your midsection. Not much, but enough to see you.

For several minutes, that’s all there was. In real time your process of sleep was captured. How you’d roll back and forth a few times before adjusting into a comfortable position, your pillow punched just right to cradle your head the way you liked it. With a final wiggle of comfort you fell asleep. Your chest rose and fell in slow, deep motions.

Then a pair of yellow eyes blinked open.

Stanford’s breath had caught in his chest. Nearly choking on it as he rose from his spot on the couch to instead crouch in front of the TV as if he could hop into the scene himself.

Beneath the bed a six-fingered hand crept out to grasp at the shag carpet and use the leverage to pull the rest of the body out with it. Emerging from the abyss was a stranger’s smile on a familiar face. His glasses were askew and the grin contorted his face unnaturally, but there was no doubt who it was.

Bill. Stanford. It hardly mattered when you wouldn’t even know the difference.

The figure moved with precision. His limbs stretched out far and bent at odd angles to distribute weight on the creaky floor; he looked like a spider poised to strike. Bill crept forward at a snail's pace. His stare never wavered from the camera meanwhile, remaining level headed until almost the entirety of Stanford’s- Bill’s yellow eye took the stage. A blink after and it was gone. In frame it captured a closeup of his hand as he grabbed the camera from its hidden position.

The already unnerving video had Stanford on edge and in his paranoia he paused the video. Freezing it right at the moment the knuckles of his hand flashed across the screen where he then held up his current injured one. The hand in the video had matching injuries, however in the past it still sparkled with fresh blood when the light hit it just right.

Stanford let out a sigh of relief. So Bill had tried the door before coming here. The wounds were from the door. The door. A fact that he’d have to remind himself of while he unpaused.

Bill was no longer visible as he became the cameraman. It was with soft footsteps that seemed ill-fitting of the one making them that the TV screen was now filled with your unconscious form. He had stopped just at the edge of the bed, yet the angle the camera shot from suggested that Bill began leaning over you. Miraculously, the frame remained steady in spite of the position.

He then spoke in such a hushed tone that his voice was almost unrecognizable if it hadn’t been the evident grin behind his words, “What. Happens. When they. Wake. Up?”

It felt as if all the blood in Stanford’s body froze at once. Each syllable that passed Bill’s lips sent a new horrific vision of what the fiend could do to your unsuspecting form. Emphasizing your vulnerability. Somehow your breathing already appeared weak as if you’ve been struck already. The thought had Ford’s mouth dry.

A pit was beginning to settle in his stomach. To calm himself down his eyes cast downwards to his bruised knuckles, trying to commit to memory that the wounds had been there since the start of the tape. Stanford didn’t gain comfort, however, as his attention returned to the screen. He couldn’t bear missing even one detail. No matter how much he wanted to.

For a long while, the ‘movie’ remained static. As chaotic as Bill was he could be patient when he wanted to be. Listening closely revealed Bill gasping for breath every so often, having forgotten that air was ‘integral’ to humans living when he had been so focused on you. Or maybe he was holding his breath on purpose. Pain was hilarious, he’d always say.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The tension was suddenly cut through by a burst of noise outside. A familiar and irritating sound of a car alarm began to blast away the quiet night, its rhythm now matching that of a racing heartbeat as it mercilessly shouted. Through the curtains a harsher light broke in. Blinking on and off to cast a harsh silhouette of Bill standing over you against the wall.

“No, no, no, nononono, gods, no!” Stanford cried out while his hands gripped at the TV’s sides to nearly crack the material. “Don’t, please-”

The past remained unchanged in spite of his begging.

You began to stir. With brows furrowed together your eyes squinted tightly together as if to block out the intrusive light, the once calm expression of peace you had now replaced with irritation at the interruption. Under your breath you mumbled something indiscernible.

From above a six-fingered hand began to torturously slide into frame while its fingers were spread and bent as if they were claws. Down and down it went. It was poised to make contact with your neck until the hand paused to hover over your body, the fingers giving a cheeky wiggle towards the camera. The open wounds on the knuckles still bled, allowing trickles of blood to pool at his fingertips until they fell and spilled across your collarbone.

Now your own hand reached up to idly scratch where the blood landed only to inadvertently smear the warm droplets on your skin. Off camera still, the sound of Bill sucking in air through his teeth filled the anticipated silence as he waited eagerly. Even the wet sound of skin stretching was a harsh reminder of how elated he must have looked.

Stanford’s hand reached toward his face where trembling fingers traced the torn corners of his mouth.

With a groan you made a sudden turn in bed that Bill hadn’t expected. He was forced to dodge his hand out of the way. You turned on your side away from the window with the corner of the blanket bunched in your first to fully entrap yourself within the comforting warmth. The car alarm outside had turned off just as you let out an exhausted yawn and snuggled into your pillow.

A moment after the camera slowly adjusted to frame your entirety once more while somehow capturing Bill’s unspoken anticipation. Yet you didn’t stir further. Instead the quiet was cut-through by your growing snores brought on by deepened rest. Off-camera Bill slowly released the air of excitement he had sucked in moments to ago in a disappointed huff.

Stanford wept.

___

Tick

  Tick

Tick

The memory brought a new sheen of tears to his eyes that Stanford cursed. Bitterly he threw off his glasses to wipe them away before they dared to fall and reveal his growing weakness. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself.

He had to protect you.

That had been three days ago. Worse yet the tape had actually contained the entirety of your night. From the moment you got into bed right down to your alarm clock going off, Bill stood over you. Stanford knew that for a fact considering he watched the tape all the way through, never daring to speed-forward or skip ahead out of fear of what he’d stumble upon after doing so.

The 6 hours of footage felt like an eternity of limbo compared to the pain of being awake for so long. This was much preferable to ever seeing that again. Even if it killed him Ford made the vow to not rest until he could assure that a ‘Part 3’ could never be made again.

Thus far the only respite he’s allowed himself was a call to your hotel. Thankfully he had recognized the tacky furniture from his own stay many years back when he had to wait for the construction of his home to complete. When you had picked up the phone and said a greeting in your warm voice, it felt as if Stanford had his second wind.

He hadn’t heard you since the day you left. Since he had driven you away in order to fall under more of his ‘muse’s’ lies. But now when Ford heard your voice all he could do was remember all the nights you spent taking care of him after an extensive research expedition. Or all the warm meals you’d prepare for him to fuel up for a dangerous day in the woods. All of that felt like a lifetime ago.

Stanford Pines had thrown you away. Now, his only redemption lied in keeping both you and the world safe, no matter what it took. Your voice was the motivation Ford needed but the reward he hadn’t earned yet. He hung up without ever saying a word to you.

From the floor Stanford used his knee to propel himself back upwards. He remembered to take his discarded glasses with him to wipe off on his button-up shirt and place back on his face. Trying to dust the rest of himself off he glanced around his now ramshackled lab that had once been the prize of all his hard work and efforts, now covered with the scrawlings of a paranoid recluse and damaged experiments from frenzied episodes.

His eyes landed on his remaining journal that had been left abandoned on the ground. Odd. Had he knocked it down at some point during his episode brought on by a lack of sleep? Stanford bent down to pick up the poor book left in disarray. Poking out from the side was a corner of a photo that must have become dislodged from within, serving as a reminder that Ford should take better care of his precious research.

With a huff of annoyance towards himself Stanford flipped open the book only to be met with a photo of his face- Stanley’s face captured from an airing commercial Ford had caught on TV one day. Puzzled by this, Ford pulled the photo from the pages to inspect Stanley’s expression yet the glare of gold from his journal behind kept drawing his gaze as well.

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

For a long time Stanford’s focus flickered between his journal and the photo of his brother. First he stared with irritation. Then as the seed of an idea began to bloom his eyes softened with a regret while seeing Stanley. So many years spent drifted apart, and yet…

Tick

  Tick

Tick

Stanford tucked the photo away with far more care than he realized he had before turning to head back upstairs to his home. There was a determination to the man as his feet picked up speed, now powered by the first actual idea he’s had in days. Whether it would work or not didn’t matter.

He had no one else.

[lanschpaket]

Mugshots (Arcane S02 analysis on Jayce)

No, not the ones you're thinking of. I post this, cause I think it needs to be out there, but full credits to my GF who actually called out the significance of the symbolismn back while S01 was airing

Buckle up, this is gonna take a while

I think everyone remembers this shot from S01, it's the Progress Day episode

The symbolism at this point. Jayce being the front man. Jayve covering up Viktor. Viktor always the person in the background not seen by anyone else, cause Jayce is standing in front of him.

Now in S02, analyzing scene, seeing more, now that I know what to look out for. I found the mug again. Therefore have these mug shots:

In these still the mug reapears in Jayce's lab it's on the desk behind him where he sits and watches over Viktor. The entire scene it's never really about Jayce, but mostly concern about the city but more importanty also about Viktor's wellbeing. The entire time, we see the mug, but the motive is not visible. Also, Viktor is not in these shots. The motive is always on the backside, cause it's not Jayce that matters at the moment. Even for him, all that matters right now is Viktor. Jayce even gave up an being on the council just for him

Let's continue

This shot was very important to me as I was looking at it. Back then, very dominant and zoomed in, the mug covered Viktor up entirely.

Now we have Viktor in the center of the image. And a crushed Jayce right in front of him. The real Jayce in his emotional state and not the famous inventor Jayce doing great for Piltover. Without Viktor Jayce isn't complete. He is not the man he can be. A part of him is missing. So we only see half of the motive on the mug, cause Viktor is there, but not really.

NEXT!

The next scene we get to see the mug are right after Viktor comes back to the living. Jayce being happy to have him back, convinced they can go back to where they where, before he gave it all up and sacrificed this relationship for fame and the council. Telling Viktor about it in the happiest state we have seen him this far this season.

We get Viktors vision of the desk and his look on the blueprints, which immediately makes him think of Sky. So full motive Jayce, cause for the longest time Jayce feels complete again, but also oposite of it Sky, which makes this scene look like some sort of crossraods for Viktor imo. We know which path he chooses. He leaves Jayce and follows his own path

So now to the last mug shot. I am not really sure, nor 100% convinced about my thoughts on that. But so far I think it show us that Jayce is recovering. He goes back to his roots. He prepares tea, after Heimerdinger and Ekko sneaked into his lab, but this time it's not just Jayce. It is Jayce without Viktor yes. But it's Jayce doing Hextec stuff with others. Making room for other personalities and not just him. His "him" back then only existed with Viktor, but Viktor not visible. This new Jayce, finds himself again where he started and allows room for others to stand with him. Truly together

thanks and shoutout to my beloved gf, who showed me the significance of the mug in the first place and got me into the heaviest brainrot this year :3

[glowettee]

✧ 5 journaling prompts for clarity✧

hey lovelies! 🎀✨

journaling has this magical way of helping us untangle our thoughts and bring clarity to what’s swirling in our minds. if you’re feeling a little stuck, overwhelmed, or just in need of some dreamy self-reflection, here are 5 journaling prompts for clarity that will have you glowing from the inside out. i personally use these prompts for myself, and they really help. ✧

1. what’s been on my mind lately?

this is your chance to let it all out. what’s taking up space in your brain? maybe it’s a project you’re procrastinating, a dream you can’t stop thinking about, or even a random convo that’s stuck with you. (pro tip: don’t filter yourself, this is just for you.) writing it all down can help you figure out what’s truly important and what you’re ready to let go of.

2. what are my biggest goals right now?

your goals are like your north star, they guide you towards your dream life. write them out, even if they feel or sound a little big or scary! even if it’s acing that exam, starting a new hobby, or creating a routine that feels amazing, this is the moment to get super clear about what you want. and remember, your goals don’t have to be perfect, they just need to feel right for you.

3. what’s holding me back?

okay, time for a little tough love (but in the gentlest, coziest way). what’s standing between you and your goals? is it fear? a lack of time? self-doubt? be honest with yourself, and remember: identifying the blocks is the first step to moving past them. oh, and don’t forget to sprinkle in some compassion. everyone has things they’re working through.

4. what makes me happiest?

this one is a total vibe booster. think about the little (and big) things that light you up. could it be your morning coffee ritual? late-night convos with your bestie? the feeling of finishing a good book? write it all down, and let it remind you that joy is all around you, waiting to be noticed. ✨

5. what does my dream life look like?

now for the fun part. close your eyes and picture your ideal life. what does it feel like? what are you doing? who are you with? where are you living? let yourself dream as big as you want here. (pro tip: the more detailed, the better.) this is the blueprint for your glow-up.

bonus tips:

make your journaling session feel special: cozy blankets, soft music, and your favorite pen.

don’t stress about perfect grammar or spelling. this is just for you!

revisit your answers every so often. you’ll be amazed at how much clarity and progress you’ll see.

xoxo, mindy <3

[ink-perfect]

thinking about... (my first ever work!)

zoro and what a loverboy he truly is despite his rough exterior. in an era that craves "nonchalance" and being "sigma" 😭 - labels he is the literal blueprint for, may i add - he still chooses love.

that man can hold a sword in his mouth and still look mysterious and hot as FUCK. he’s blissfully unaware of his pretty privilege sometimes, ready to actually try and reason with you instead of charming his way out of any argument you two have, even though that route would end it almost immediately. when you’re overthinking things, he’ll sit by your side, taking the time to consider your concerns instead of just shutting them down with a reductive, but very applicable, “that’s stupid,” like most people would.

he wants to experience being with you, live it out in deep, measured breaths. he craves the quiet moments, the in-betweens - like when your hands find each other without thought, or the way your nose scrunches up when you’re deep in thought. he's memorised these moments, storing them away as treasures in little “X”s on the sprawling map that is his mind.

to him, your presence is like the calm after a storm, the gentle lull of the sea at dawn. he feels your love like the sun on his skin, warm and steady, something he didn't realise he needed until it was there, enveloping him in a light soft and unwavering. he wants to hear the sound of your heartbeat against his chest, feel the weight of your head on his shoulder as you drift into sleep. every breath you take beside him is a reminder of everything that is good and worth fighting for in this world. he wants to be with you even for your filler episodes, even in the times where you don't have it in you to show your love to him. he's intuitive that way - he knows how you feel and what you mean; being with him comes to you so naturally it feels like a part of you is missing whenever you have to do something yourself.

the mere thought of each other brings a smile to both of your faces, more than you'll ever realise: nami's noticed and has bet a good few berry that it happens simultaneously at least 3 times a day. she's so confident in her bet that she's even positioned usopp and luffy to follow you at random and report back on the deck to compare when it happened. let me tell you, that girl is making BANK. even pervert sanji's crude remarks about you have stopped out of pure respect for and awe of you guys' relationship.

i KNOW. even sanji's CRUDE REMARKS.

that's just how beautiful you and zoro are together.

── ౨ৎ masterlist

[that-student-that-has-homework]

The Rationality of Emotion

Al-Haitham / Reader Chapters: Chp 1 | Chp 2

Read the Full Story on Ao3 | Tumblr MasterList Here (Maybe even leave me a comment please? :3< )

Summary: Kaveh simply couldn't believe that Al-Haitham was going to marry before him! Not that ill-tempered, bullheaded, brutish excuse for a man! Not just that! The rational brute was marrying the Emotional Scholar, of all people! Rationality and Emotion? Marrying? How could this be possible?! --o-- A story in which: you just wanted help reading some runes, your parents wanted to you to marry, Al-Haitham wanted a cover story for when he went out into the desert, and Kaveh is...well...he's...he's there for you. Needless to say you're now all one big happy (?) family!

Chapter 1: Unexpected

The sun had long since set, the moon, or what of it could be seen anyway - it had phases and for all he knew it could be a new moon tonight, he’s been rather preoccupied with his latest design and hadn’t had the chance to admire the lovely glowing orb. 

Hmph. 

That annoying roommate (effectively a tyrannical landlord despite his grace in allowing him to stay with him-this man operates in paradoxes doesn’t he?) of his would argue that - actually most students would argue that the moon doesn’t in fact emit any light, rather it reflects the light of the sun and whatnot. Yes, he was very well aware, thank you very much, he’d studied elementary physics as well.

In fact he was likely more knowledgeable in physics than that linguist. He was an architect, an engineer.

Nevermind all that, what was important was that it was late and his roommate had yet to return, much to his pleasure really. It wasn’t uncommon that he’d be out late or even go for trips without warning, perhaps this was one of those blessed situations where he would be able to go for days without seeing him. Lovely.

Of course things could not always be so delightful, as the architectural genius (yes he truly was a marvel) had just about completed the application of his honey mask that he heard the door open. He’d rather not be seen with his face covered in honey, not that he really cared if that excessively confident junior of his saw him in such a state, he simply wasn’t in the mood to explain himself.

“Kaveh,” oh how unusual for him to approach him first.

“What is it? I’m busy,” the man in question said as he made sure that he had in fact covered the entirety of his face in honey.

“Is that so?” Came the unimpressed reply. “Suit yourself.”

Suit himself? What on Teyvat? Appearances be damned. Kaveh made his way out to the kitchen; he had to wash his hands and return the honey jar either way after all. Once that task was dealt with he approached his housemate who…

Where was he?

The sounds of running water from the restroom gave away the scribe’s location. Perhaps it really wasn’t all that important after all. For all he knew, Al-Haitham was probably about to inform of something truly infuriating and pointless to him.

-_-

The following week he found the parts to a new piece of furniture, a bed, in one corner of the salon. Oddly enough it was wider than the standard size, perhaps a queen sized bed? How peculiar, from what he’d witnessed of the prickly scholar he didn’t care for such extravagance. No matter, it wasn’t any of his business anyway.

The day after that the architect returned late at night to see a new pile of wood in the salon. Seems the scribe really was upgrading his furniture. Kaveh moved to inspect the craftsmanship on the wood. Al-Haitham had taste, as much as he hated to admit it. Though it was simple, it was tasteful, and would likely not go out of style any time soon.

The following night the reputable architect pulled an all-nighter at his atelier in the Akademiya, working diligently to complete a blueprint, and only managed to finally return to his shared accommodations the night after. Which coincidentally was when things truly became strange. The third room in the house, which was mostly used for storage, was now occupied with that large bed he’d seen before, a closet, and yet another pile of wood in a corner of the room.

Just what on Teyvat was going on?

No sooner had he thought that, then the door had opened, the owner of the house marching in. Excellent timing, truly, he needed an explanation for all of these changes.

“Just what is going on here?” He asked, gesturing to the former storage room.

The pleasant expression the scribe seemed to have before dropped, vanishing without a trace. Wait - pleasant expression? Unless he was reading a book, or things were going his way, that was rare. Was this all an elaborate plot to mess with him? Nevermind that!

“Isn’t it obvious?” The scribe returned.

Kaveh stared at him in silence. 

Obvious? Obvious he says? It was so deep into obscurity that there couldn’t be anything remotely obvious about it. It might as well be the Abyss!

“Had it been obvious I wouldn’t find the need to ask you, now would I?” He sighed.

“You have a tendency to ask about the obvious with little thought,” his junior shrugged, “have you given the situation any thought prior to asking?”

“I’ve given it plenty of thought,” much more than it deserved really, “I was under the impression you were changing your furniture.”

The unimpressed expression his housemate gave him was truly punchable. Clenching his fists to restrain himself from physically attacking his housemate, he continued, “however you’ve placed them in the unused room of all places, what are you planning?”

“You got that far and still didn’t find the answer?” Dear Lesser Lord Kusanali, it was taking every fibre of his being not to grab the nearest thing-a rather large volume that the irritating man had been reading recently coincidentally-and lob it straight into his head. 

The jerk had the audacity to sigh, like he was the one who was tired, “we’re going to have another person living here soon.”

“What?”

“Is it that much of a surprise?” He moved past him to the kitchen, the architect following. “I tried to inform you earlier, however you were busy.”

“When did you-” oh. That was why the scribe had uncharacteristically approached him back then.

Nevermind that though: there was a more pressing matter at hand.

“Who? ” He had to warn them, unless they absolutely, desperately needed lodging, no! Even then! It would be best if they stayed far away from someone so insufferable. Then again he was there, he’d make it all bearable-

“My wife.”

“Your what? ” The architect looked his roommate up and down as though the signs of matrimony would magically appear upon him. “You’re married?”

“Not yet,” came the calm reply.

“You’re engaged?! ” Unbelievable! “Who in Teyvat would agree to marry you?”

“To my understanding, I’m a rather attractive candidate,” the engaged scribe returned calm as ever, “I’m able-bodied, capable of providing due to my prestigious employment, and have a respectable lineage.”

“The poor girl, what sort of trickery did you resort to?” Kaveh would have to find her and ask what possessed her to make such a horrible decision.  

“Trickery? What nonsense are you babbling about?” The scribe folded his arms across his chest.

“What sane, rational lady would agree to wed you?” He marched up to him. “What kind of things did you say to her? I didn’t even think you were capable of such speech!”

The perplexed expression that usually brought him a semblance of joy only served to fan the flames of-of…uh…of confused irritation? 

Surprise? 

Goodness! 

He was a cocktail of bewildering emotions!

“If you’re insinuating I employed dishonest methods to impress my future spouse,” oh bother, he did not have the patience to deal with Al-Haitham’s temperament on a good day - let alone when he’s as deprived of sleep as he was right now, “I’ll have to advise you: choose your next words carefully.”

“You mean to tell me she was impressed by you, as you are?” The blonde scoffed, “there’s no way she knows about your temper.” He waved his hand dismissively, after all if a lady knew of…oh no. “Unless! It can’t be!”

His housemate returned his look of horror with a bored look of his own. 

“Has she been blinded by…by…by,” dear Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, he couldn’t even bring himself to say the word, “l-l-lo lo-loo-temporary affection,” he really couldn’t say it, “and is incapable of thinking rationally when it comes to you?”

He hated to admit it, but he has overheard ladies giggle and croon over Al-Haitham, on the rare occasion they would glimpse him. Well with how he dressed-nevermind that!

“She’s viewing you through a rose tinted lens?! She’s not in the right mindset to be making life decisions then,” oh he absolutely had to find her, “quickly tell me her name.”

To his greatest surprise, Al-Haitham had a rather smug, if small, smile upon his face, “well I can assure you that’s not the case,” he gestured in explanation, “my fiancee was not under the blinding influence of love, or as you put it ‘temporary affection,’” his expression only grew more smug, “we both came to the decision to marry after discussing it in depth and evaluating it rationally.”

Kaveh didn’t believe a word of that. Not for an instant. There was no way. Absolutely not. She had to be a convincing actress or something. 

“Impossible, you’re the only insufferable person who uses logic in these situations,” the architect denied, “she must be a very compelling actress.”

“In which case she would be the dishonest one,” his astute junior returned, “I hope you realize your response implies that she is so acutely infatuated with me she would actively seek to appeal to my personal preferences.”

Why this! 

“How did you arrive at that conclusion?” Disbelief contorted the architect’s pretty features into a scowl. 

The absurdity of such a notion. 

“You said she could be pretending to be rational in order to marry me. By acquiring me as a husband, she establishes an exclusive romantic claim to me and discourages most competition while maintaining leverage against the outliers. All of which would imply a very keen desire to monopolize me, hence: infatuation.”

“That’s not it at all! She could simply be in desperate need of a husband for any assortment of reasons!”

He’s been a fake lover to a lady scholar once or twice, helping them ward off unwanted attention for a while. He’d also heard some scholars complain about how their parents wishing for them to marry was getting in the way of their work. Not to mention the sheer number of scholars who married for the sake of a project or research (which was more often related to genealogy). 

There were the contract marriages of those wishing to be done with it all too. Oddly enough they were mostly successful, with feelings developing between them later.

Unfortunately this poor lady was to marry this bullheaded linguist so the chances of that were nothing short of zero, and he was being generous. On a particularly bad day Kaveh would be compelled to put that number in the negatives.

“So you mean to say you’re concerned I’m being taken advantage of?” The obstinate nuisance inquired. 

“How you arrive at these outlandish conclusions is beyond me,” Kaveh massaged his temples with one hand. 

“As is basic reasoning it would seem.”

“Excuse me?” The disrespect! 

Hmph! 

If he wants to be like that then: “you said your wife,” the poor foolish girl whom he had to rescue, “was coming to live with us.”

“Strictly speaking, given she will be mistress of this house as I am its master and she, my wife,” he spoke coolly, “you will be living with us,” 

The audacity. No matter if he was right! There were kinder ways to put it! 

Nevermind that though, “but you’re not married yet, meaning she’s your fiancée.”

“Yes.”

“Then you mean to say your fiancée is coming to live with us,” while he wasn’t usually one for semantics, he refused to yield.

“While she is currently my fiancée,” now this Haravatat scholar, definitely was a semanticist, “she won’t move in until we marry and hold the wedding ceremony. At which point she will be my wife not fiancée and as my wife she will be coming to live here, with me, as is customary of a married couple.”

“Goodness this poor girl,” well the marriage had yet to go through, “how did you manage this?”

“I proposed.”

“Clearly. No one’s going to propose to you,” Kaveh had so many questions, “But what drove you to propose?”

“Her openness to marriage, obviously” Al-Haitham’s tone revealed just how stupid he thought the inquiry was.

“That’s not-” the blonde sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose, goodness he was much too tired for this, “nevermind, who is she?”

“You’ll be meeting her soon enough.”

Ugh. As much as he wanted to save the girl, he was running at fumes and this stubborn ox of a man was not going to budge. Regrettably. 

“When is the wedding? I better be invited.”

“Yes of course,” he gestured noncommittally, “I wouldn’t dare think to exclude my own housemate.”

By the tone he was using it was clear he had considered not inviting him.

–

Kaveh felt he needed to air his grievances about this current dilemma to someone who would be able to fully understand the gravity of the situation. He was also in desperate need of inspiration, so he decided a trip to the Avidya Forest was necessary. He’d be able to kill two birds with one stone that way.

“Al-Haitham? You mean the scribe?” Tighnari’s puzzled expression brought the blonde a sense of calm.

“Yes!” Kaveh responded eagerly. “To think someone so insufferable would!” He paused in the middle of his tirade. “Who could possibly subject themselves to such misery?”

Collei, bless her, the sweet girl, came by with some fresh tea and some snacks at that moment. Her master was quick to take them off her hands, with only a small complaint from her.

“Is Al-Haitham really so bad?” She couldn’t help her curiosity.

She was fortunately spared the misery of having to meet the insufferable scholar. Kaveh couldn’t be any more thankful, truly.

“I’ve told you about what it’s been like living with him,” the architect accepted the little handleless tea cup with its plate that the forest ranger offered him, “and this is just a temporary arrangement caused by extreme circumstances. This girl is about to be permanently stuck in this situation!”

“I imagine her situation will be different from yours given she’ll be his wife,” the proficient botanist offered a cup to his pupil.

“Regardless!” Kaveh continued. “I just want to know who would be so tasteless? so blind? Who could despise themselves so much as to marry Al-Haitham?”

“Hmm, I think you’re asking the wrong question,” came the pensive response of the forest watcher. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m more interested in why he decided to get married,” Tighnari gestured, as he returned to his seat, “he doesn’t seem like the type to particularly enjoy company.”

The blonde paused. 

Truthfully that was curious.

As Tighnari had said: Al-Haitham conducted himself in a manner to ward people off. He wasn’t the type to engage in conversations for the sake of fostering friendships.

“How did this happen?” The curious architect wondered aloud. “Then again he is a man. Perhaps this is just a means to that end?”

“There are alternate solutions that are less work than marriage,” the long-eared fellow rebutted.

“This is true, however,” Kaveh squinted at nothing, frowning, “if we assess this with the rationality he’s obsessed with.”

“Oh. Then I could see why he’d consider it.”

“Yes, rather than regularly exerting effort on varying conquests that could each bring about their own problems,” the blonde pinched the rim of his tea cup, lifting it to his lips, “in this case his conquest resides in his house, requiring little effort.”

“And there would be less complications should these ‘conquests’ result in children,” the ranger added, “though there are contraceptive methods and herbs according to the literature.”

“That is a horrifying thought,” the architect shook his head.

“What is?” One of Tighnari’s ears tilted slightly to one side as if in question, before a laugh emerged from him. “Oh you mean Al-Haitham having kids?”

Kaveh simply nodded.

“Well there’s no guarantee they’ll inherit his personality, they might get their mother’s,” the botanist mused.

“Assuming her personality is radically different,” the blonde leaned back, “according to Al-Haitham he and she decided to get married after assessing it logically.”

“No two people are exactly alike, you know.”

“True, true,” he sat up again in a pensive stance, “now that you’ve mentioned it: it is curious who could have managed to earn his approval.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” Tighnari refilled Kaveh’s tea cup.

“I’ll let you know when I do.”

-_-

The Light of Kshahrewar returned to Sumeru City shortly after, full of inspiration, and even more questions.

The reclusive bookworm of a scribe…yes…who could possibly…draw his attention? Who could possibly be deemed as compatible? Possibly a person of mild temperament? Who knew?

At his atelier, the architect was very pleased to be graced with the presence of a certain Vahumana scholar, to whom he could rant endlessly about every architectural style in history. Yes, this historian was a rapt listener who delighted in the knowledge he offered and often contributed some fascinating facts as well. Facts which sometimes inspired his imagination.

A dear acquaintance.

He’d been in the middle of talking about the architecture and the engineering employed by the ancient desert civilization prior to the destruction caused by the Archon War and whatnot, when the topic of a rumored tomb dedicated to the wife of some king or another came up. 

To his surprise, he did not receive the awe and adoration he’d expected. The response was tame, and mostly curious, bordering on suspicious as the tale seemed unfamiliar to this particular historian. Not that there was any doubting Kaveh’s little fun fact! Not at all! But kings that doted on their wives were few and far between usually.

“You must admit that the notion of a man loving his wife enough to dedicate a great architectural wonder to her is a romantic one though,” the architect insisted.

“It makes for a romantic tale no doubt,” the delightful scholar smiled in concession.

“I sense there is a ‘however’ in your statement,” Kaveh folded his arms across his chest and leaned back.

“Well,” that was a rather tentative tone, “I suppose I could be overly cynical, there is an extensive library of love poems dedicated by men to their lovers.”

The architect felt his previous joy return. Ah if only Al-Haitham were so easy to reason with!

“In all honesty, I am more interested as to how this temple and the theory of it being dedicated to a king’s beloved wife came about,” ah yes spoken like a true Vahumana scholar! “I wonder what analyses and artifacts they excavated to arrive at such a conclusion.”

He hadn’t looked into it much beyond the conjectured blueprints, which were stunning - make no mistake! So, he didn’t have an answer to that. 

Oh well.

At least his enthusiasm regarding how romantic the notion was reciprocated. While the initial response betrayed his expectations: he was delighted that his point of view was now as appreciated as it ought to be. 

After all, who wouldn’t enjoy such a romantic gesture.

Oh.

He knew who.

Al-Haitham.

Hmm…perhaps he could do with a feminine opinion.

“I’d like your opinion on something,” he asked after a short lull in the conversation.

“Yes?”

“My roommate recently mentioned he’s getting married,” he paused staring at some random tile as he gathered his thoughts, “he mentioned he and his fiancée had come to the agreement to marry logically.”

Well that was a strangely awkward look he was receiving, “do you actually believe that?”

“I think people should not neglect rationality when trying to choose a spouse,” he could not believe thi- “though some attraction is also necessary.”

“You mean to say,” Kaveh took a moment to better articulate his thoughts, “love is not necessary when marrying?”

“Which form of love are you talking about?” Goodness, where did the past agreeability go? 

Ah yes! He’d forgotten a critical fact: Vahumana scholars could be just as semantic as Haravatat scholars.

His attention was brought back to the current conversation with a sigh, “I apologize Kaveh, I don’t have the energy needed for this kind of discussion today.”

Oh? Well he could understand that, it was getting to be later in the day, he’d been considering either returning home or heading out to eat.

“A rational conclusion to marry is okay in the presence of subtle attraction,” was the verdict he received.

How astonishing. He’d have expected more weight to be attributed towards emotion. After all sat before him was none other than-ah no he knew better than to use that insulting moniker.

Still he’d expected this scholar to share in his opinion. To stress the importance of love in establishing a relationship. It was strange that the opinion presented was closer to that of Al-Haitham’s. He’d never have expected it.

The well dressed artist blinked himself back into reality when a fancy looking envelope appeared in his peripheral.

“I’d originally intended to give this to you and leave you in peace,” Kaveh found himself receiving a sheepish smile, “however your discussion about the recovered architectural techniques pre-dating the archon war was enthralling! I really enjoyed it! Thank you for telling me about it!” 

The Light of Kshahrewar himself, warmed up at the appreciation expressed. With a final farewell he was left to his own devices.

Naturally his first instinct was to open the envelope. Such fancy stock, was this perhaps a confession? While the feelings wouldn’t exactly be mutual…the architect wouldn’t deny him entertaining the thought of such a relationship following a confession. Besides he could never blame anyone who found him attractive, he- 

“You are Cordially Invited to Attend the Wedding of Al-Haitham and-”

He pushed the card back down, closing the flap of the envelope. Closing his eyes and shaking his head he pulled out the card yet again…

“You are Cordially Invited to Attend the Wedding of Al-Haitham and-”

He once again put the invite into its envelope and closed the flap.

It was a wonder his eyeballs didn’t fall out of their sockets.

The mystery lady, the poor pitiful girl, his target for rescue…

Of all people… 

Al-Haitham was marrying YOU?!