#this is not structured this is not my best

[solxamber]

Choose Us!

In which you have to decide on a dorm to become part of.

Part 2: You choose the dorm

"You're serious?" you blink at Crowley, half-expecting Grim to wake you up from this fever dream. "I can move into any dorm?"

Crowley clasps his hands together with a benevolent smile that doesn't quite match his usual dramatic flair. "Indeed, my dear prefect! It's the least I can do to ensure your safety and comfort!"

Grim looks up from where he’s gnawing on a suspiciously burnt sofa leg. "Wait, what about me?!"

"You’ll go where the prefect goes, naturally," Crowley waves off Grim’s protests. "Now, chop-chop! Let me know your decision by the end of the day."

And just like that, he floats out of Ramshackle, leaving you standing in the middle of the chaos.

Heartslabyul

The second you hit send in the group chat, you regret everything. Ace and Deuce don’t even wait for you to explain. Within minutes, they’re barging into Ramshackle like the Kool-Aid Man.

“Heartslabyul!” Ace yells, grabbing one of your arms.

“Obviously Heartslabyul!” Deuce hollers, seizing the other.

“I haven’t even decided—”

“Blasphemy!” Ace gasps, as if you’d just insulted his mother. “We’re your best friends, how could you even think about choosing another dorm?”

Deuce nods fervently, dragging you toward the door. “Heartslabyul’s clean! Organized! You’d thrive there!”

"And the desserts!" Ace adds. "Think of the desserts!"

Before you know it, you're shoved into Heartslabyul’s rose garden, where Riddle is waiting with the most extravagant tea party setup you’ve ever seen. There’s a towering cake, delicate pastries, and enough tea to drown Grim.

“I thought you might need proper refreshments while considering your options,” Riddle says, adjusting his posture like he isn’t secretly trying to sway you. “Of course, I have no preference where you go. I’m merely concerned for your well-being.”

Trey hands you a plate with the biggest, most immaculate slice of cake you’ve ever seen. “You’d fit right in here, you know,” he says kindly. “We’re all about structure and care… and good desserts.”

"Plus," Cater slides in with a grin, “imagine all the cool pics we could take together! #DormGoals, am I right? You and me chilling in Heartslabyul, like, all the time?”

Riddle clears his throat loudly. “This isn’t about favoritism, mind you. But if you were to choose Heartslabyul, you’d be part of a dorm that values discipline and respect for the rules.”

Ace nudges you with a smirk. “Ignore him. Just think of all the times I’ll sneak you extra tarts.”

You glance around at the hopeful stares. Grim’s already halfway into a tart he snatched off the table. “I feel like I’m being ambushed.”

“Oh, you are,” Ace says shamelessly.

Savanaclaw

You stumble out of the Heartslabyul tea party, feeling like you’ve consumed enough sugar to fuel a small country. Before you can even catch your breath, a shadow looms over you, and suddenly, you're hoisted into the air like a sack of potatoes.

“What the—JACK?!” you squawk, flailing as he throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

“You’re coming with me,” Jack grunts, completely unfazed by your protests. “You need to see why Savanaclaw is the best dorm for you.”

“I can walk, you know!” you huff, punching his back.

He ignores you. “Not fast enough.”

By the time he sets you down, you’re in the middle of Savanaclaw’s common area, where Ruggie is lounging on one of the couches, counting a suspiciously thick wad of cash. Leona’s sprawled out nearby, pretending to nap, though his ears twitch at the sound of your arrival.

Ruggie grins as soon as he spots you. “Ah, perfect timing! I was just telling Leona how we could totally use someone like you here. Right, boss?”

Leona cracks one eye open and yawns, his tone dripping with disinterest. “Tch. Don’t care. They can do whatever they want.”

“That’s funny,” Ruggie says, nudging Leona hard enough to make him growl, “’cause I distinctly remember you saying—and I quote—‘If they don’t pick Savanaclaw, everyone else can rot.’”

Leona sits up, glaring daggers at Ruggie. “I said no such thing.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Ruggie snickers before turning back to you, his grin as wide as a hyena’s. “Anyway, check this out. Leona generously donated some funds to help you... you know, see the light.”

He shoves the wad of cash into your hands. You blink at it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Whatever you want! Snacks, clothes, bribes for your annoying friends in Heartslabyul…”

Leona groans and drags a hand down his face. “You’re making us look desperate.”

“We? Speak for yourself, Your Highness.” Ruggie winks at you. “He’s just mad ‘cause he doesn’t know how to be subtle.”

Leona slouches further into his seat, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Look, Herbivore, if you wanna be around people who won’t coddle you, Savanaclaw’s where it’s at. We don’t do tea parties here—”

“Obviously,” you mutter, thinking about the claw marks on the furniture.

“—but we’ll actually challenge you to grow stronger. You can’t get that in the other dorms.”

Jack nods. “He’s right. And we’ve got the best training facilities on campus.”

Ruggie waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, training’s cool and all, but let’s focus on what really matters. Free snacks. Awesome vibes. Me.”

Leona rolls his eyes. “You’re going to scare them off.”

You cross your arms, trying to ignore the way Leona’s ears flick every time you shift your weight. “So… are you guys going to bribe me with anything besides money and vibes?”

Leona smirks. “What, isn’t my dazzling personality enough?”

Ruggie snorts. “Oh, sure. That’s totally why people flock to you.”

You can’t help but laugh, and Leona’s eyes soften just a little, though he quickly turns his head like he doesn’t care.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, handing the wad of cash back to Ruggie, who immediately starts recounting it like you’ve stolen some.

“Better think fast,” Leona mutters, though there’s the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.

Octavinelle

As you trudge back to Ramshackle, your brain still processing Savanaclaw’s “recruitment tactics,” a pair of arms suddenly wrap around you, lifting you clean off the ground.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd crows, spinning you around like you’re a prize he just won at a carnival.

“FLOYD! Put me down!” you shout, flailing uselessly in his grip.

“Nah, I got orders,” he says, grinning ear to ear as he hauls you off toward the Mostro Lounge.

By the time you’re unceremoniously deposited (read: still stuck in Floyd’s arms like a glorified teddy bear), you’re face-to-face with Azul and Jade, both of whom look way too pleased with themselves.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Azul says, standing up from his chair with his signature business smile. “We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Have a seat!”

“I would if Floyd let me down,” you deadpan, glaring at the tall eel holding you like a sack of seaweed.

“Nah, you’re comfy,” Floyd chirps, tightening his grip as if daring you to try escaping.

Azul clears his throat, pulling out a scroll of parchment that looks suspiciously like a contract. “Ahem. Now, as I was saying—let’s discuss the many benefits of joining Octavinelle. For starters, we pride ourselves on being a dorm of intellect and resourcefulness. Here, you’ll have access to unmatched networking opportunities, a plethora of unique beverages crafted by Jade himself, and—should you agree—my personal mentorship in matters of… negotiation.”

He flashes you a grin that screams, This is totally not suspicious at all.

Jade slides a glass of something shimmering and iridescent across the table toward you. “I would be delighted to name you our official taste tester. Imagine the prestige of being the first to try all my… experimental creations.”

You eye the drink like it might explode. “Define ‘experimental.’”

Jade smiles serenely. “You’ll find out.”

“Don’t be shy, Shrimpy!” Floyd chimes in, shifting you in his arms so you’re now sitting sideways like some sort of royal guest. “You’d have so much fun here. We’ve got good food, good drinks, and me.”

Azul adjusts his glasses, sliding the contract closer to you. “And, of course, we’ve prepared a special position for you. All you have to do is sign right here, and Octavinelle will officially welcome you as our newest member.”

You glance at the contract, then at the three of them—Azul’s scheming smile, Jade’s unsettling calmness, and Floyd’s unnervingly enthusiastic grin.

“I feel like this is a trap,” you say.

“It’s not a trap,” Floyd says immediately, which makes you even more suspicious.

Azul leans forward, steepling his fingers. “I assure you, everything is perfectly legitimate. Now, shall we seal the deal?”

“Or,” you say, leaning back as far as Floyd’s grip will allow, “I could not.”

Jade hums thoughtfully, handing you another drink. “At least try the beverages before you decide.”

Azul smirks. “I’m sure a sip or two will convince you.”

You glance at the drink, then back at Azul. “Is this bribery?”

“It’s persuasion,” he corrects smoothly.

“Same thing.”

Floyd suddenly squeezes you tight, grinning down at you. “C’mon, Shrimpy. Just say yes already! I’ll carry you everywhere. Betcha Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw didn’t offer that.”

You sigh, resting your head in your hands. This was going to be a long night.

Scarabia

You barely make it out of Octavinelle alive (or at least with your dignity and soul intact) when you’re immediately ambushed again.

“Prefect!” Kalim’s voice rings out, and before you can even process the sound, you’re being yanked into a whirlwind of color, music, and… is that confetti?

You blink as Scarabia's lounge comes into view, transformed into what can only be described as a full-blown festival. Tables are piled high with food, lanterns glow in warm hues, and cheerful music fills the air.

“Surprise!” Kalim grins, throwing his arms wide like he just gifted you the world. “Welcome to Scarabia! We threw a party just for you!”

“A… party?” you repeat, still trying to figure out how you got here so fast.

“Yep!” Kalim grabs your hands, his golden eyes shining with pure, unfiltered excitement. “I thought, ‘What’s the best way to convince you to join us?’ And then I thought, ‘A party! Everyone loves parties!’”

Before you can respond, a plate stacked with delicious-looking food appears in front of you, courtesy of none other than Jamil.

“Eat,” he says simply, pushing the plate closer.

“Oh, uh, thanks?” you mumble, picking up a fork.

Jamil nods, then leans in slightly, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. “This is just a taste of what Scarabia has to offer. Stick around, and I’ll make sure you’re well-fed every day. Properly fed.”

You pause mid-bite, noticing the way he emphasizes the word “properly,” like he knows exactly how many instant noodles you’ve been living off of.

Kalim, meanwhile, is still giving you the most devastating puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen. “You’ll join, right? We’d have so much fun together! And think of all the parties we could throw! Oh, and I can get you anything you want! Name it, and it’s yours!”

You glance between Kalim’s hopeful grin and Jamil’s subtle but persuasive bribes.

Jamil catches your hesitation and sighs, placing yet another dish in front of you. “Look, I’ll even help you stay on top of your work. You’re clearly the type who needs someone dependable around.”

“Hey!” you protest, only for him to raise an eyebrow as if to say, Am I wrong?

“Please?” Kalim chimes in, practically bouncing in place. “It’ll be so much fun! And I really, really want you to join. Scarabia would be perfect for you!”

You groan internally, stuffing another bite of food into your mouth just to avoid answering. Between Kalim’s overwhelming enthusiasm and Jamil’s quiet determination, you’re starting to think Scarabia might actually succeed in breaking your will.

You’re doomed. Aren’t you?

Pomefiore

You stumble out of Scarabia, clutching your overstuffed stomach and wondering how you’ve made it this far without officially losing your sanity. Taking the long way around campus to avoid any more ambushes seems like the best idea—you’ve had enough dorm propaganda for one day.

Or so you thought.

You’re halfway through the forest, breathing a sigh of relief at the quiet, when—

“Bonjour, mon cher trésor!”

You shriek as Rook appears out of thin air. Where did he even come from? Why is there sparkly lighting behind him? Is this even allowed?

“Rook! What—what are you doing here?!”

“Ah, I see you were clever enough to evade the others,” he says, ignoring your question entirely. “But you cannot escape me, the hunter of beauty! Pomefiore awaits, mon ami!”

Before you can protest, he’s scooped you up bridal style and is sprinting through the forest with unnatural speed, his laughter echoing ominously.

“This isn’t fair! You’re cheating!” you yell, flailing helplessly.

“All’s fair in love, war, and dorm recruitment, non?”

You soon find yourself unceremoniously plopped down in the middle of Pomefiore’s lounge. Vil is waiting with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression, though the way his foot taps against the floor suggests he’s less than pleased.

“Honestly,” Vil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Was the theatrics really necessary, Rook?”

“Always,” Rook replies with a wink.

Epel is off to the side, clearly trying not to laugh at your predicament while casually carving an apple.

“Well,” Vil says, straightening his posture and fixing you with a regal gaze. “I’ve heard about this… situation of yours. Joining Pomefiore would be the obvious choice. After all, we are the epitome of elegance and refinement. It would be a privilege for you to stay here, and I might even be able to do something about your… appearance.”

You blink. "What's wrong with my appearance?”

Vil waves a hand dismissively. “Nothing I can’t fix. Consider it a favor.”

Epel, meanwhile, sidles up next to you, whispering conspiratorially “Don’t listen to him. He’s just tryna butter you up. But, uh… you should totally join Pomefiore anyway. Look, I brought you some fresh juice from Harveston. And this apple.”

You glance at the carved apple he’s offering. It’s shaped like a little heart.

“Epel,” Vil scolds, glaring at him. “Stop bribing them. That’s hardly dignified.”

“Well, it’s working, isn’t it?” Epel shoots back, crossing his arms. “I just think we need someone who’ll actually get how hard it is to survive your routines. And they seem cool. So there.”

You feel your brain short-circuiting as Vil and Epel start bickering in front of you. Rook stands off to the side, watching with sparkling eyes like he’s witnessing a masterpiece.

Somehow, you feel like this is still less stressful than Scarabia. But only barely.

Ignihyde

You somehow manage to escape Pomefiore in one piece, though your mind feels like it’s been through a blender. You’re determined to finally make it back to Ramshackle without incident when—

“Prefect!”

You freeze mid-step as Ortho zooms into view, his boosters glowing bright blue. Before you can even blink, he grabs your arm with surprising strength.

“Ignihyde is next!” he announces cheerfully, starting to lift you off the ground.

“Wait, wait!” you shout, flailing. “I can walk! Please, I’ve been carried around like a stolen handbag all day!”

Ortho tilts his head, his LED eyes flickering. “Oh… okay! As long as you promise to come willingly!”

You nod frantically. “I promise! Just no more flying, please.”

Satisfied, Ortho takes your hand and leads you to Ignihyde. The journey is mercifully uneventful, though you can feel your soul leaving your body as you realize what’s waiting for you inside.

Sure enough, Idia is hunched over in the corner of the lounge, a laptop balanced precariously on a stack of game boxes. The moment you enter, the screen lights up with a title slide: “Top 10 Reasons Why You Should Join Ignihyde” in bold, glowing text.

“Oh, you’re here,” Idia mutters, adjusting his hoodie nervously. His hair flickers faintly pink at the tips. “Uh, okay, so—yeah, uh—welcome? Or whatever. Let’s, um, get this over with.”

He clicks to the first slide, which is an overwhelming wall of text filled with bullet points, charts, and what looks like a meme of a cat wearing glasses.

“Reason number one,” Idia starts, stumbling over his words. “Um, we’re quiet? Like, no loud parties or annoying socializing. Uh… unless you count Ortho, but, uh, he’s not that bad. And you can play games as much as you want. Or watch anime. Or—uh—just chill. Yeah.”

Ortho, standing nearby, nods enthusiastically. “Ignihyde is perfect for you! And Brother worked really hard on this presentation!”

You glance at Idia, who’s clearly fighting for his life to make eye contact with you. He clicks to the next slide, which is just a stock photo of a cozy room.

“Reason number two,” he continues. “We, uh, have good Wi-Fi? Like, really good. You could stream in 4K if you wanted to. Not that you’d want to. Or maybe you would? Uh… I dunno. Anyway.”

His hair flickers a deeper pink, and he clicks to the next slide. It’s a crudely edited photo of you and him standing next to each other in front of a glowing Ignihyde logo. You’re not sure whether to be impressed or deeply concerned.

He glances at you, his expression oddly hopeful. “So, uh… what do you think?”

You can feel Ortho practically vibrating next to you, his bright smile threatening to blind you. Meanwhile, Idia is trying (and failing) to look indifferent, but the way his fingers tap anxiously on the laptop betrays him.

“I’ll… think about it,” you say carefully, not having the heart to crush Idia’s dreams outright.

His hair sparks bright pink for a split second before he slams the laptop shut, muttering something about “overheating processors” and “input overload.”

Ortho cheers. “Yay! I knew you’d see how great we are!”

You manage a weak smile, already planning your escape route.

Diasomnia

You’re so close—so, so close—to finally making it back to Ramshackle when the universe decides to remind you that peace is but a fleeting dream.

“Ah, there you are!”

You barely have time to scream before Lilia literally materializes out of thin air, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into a swirling vortex of green light.

“Wait, NO—”

Too late. You’re already standing in the middle of Diasomnia’s lounge, disoriented and ready to file a restraining order against anyone with teleportation magic.

Malleus looks up from where he’s seated, eyebrows raising slightly. “Child of man? What brings you here?”

“Great news, Malleus!” Lilia chirps, dropping you onto the couch like a sack of potatoes. “They’re choosing a dorm to transfer to, and we couldn’t possibly let them pick anywhere but Diasomnia!”

Malleus freezes, his eyes wide with surprise, before his expression shifts into one of regal determination. He rises from his seat, his imposing height making you feel like a pebble in the presence of a mountain.

“Is this true?” he asks, his voice deep and serious. “You’re choosing a new dorm?”

“Uh, yeah, but—”

“Then it must be Diasomnia.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Here, you will be protected. No harm shall come to you under my watch. And…” He pauses, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I have a gargoyle in my room. A fine specimen. You would enjoy its company.”

You blink. “...A gargoyle?”

“Yes,” Malleus says with absolute sincerity, as though that’s the most convincing argument in the world.

Before you can process that, Sebek practically throws himself to the floor in front of you, bowing with the intensity of a knight swearing fealty.

“Human!” he bellows. “You must choose Diasomnia! To live anywhere else would be an insult to the Young Master’s unparalleled grace and power! Surely, you can see this is the only logical choice!”

“Sebek,” Silver mumbles from his spot on the couch, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Maybe let them decide for themselves.”

“But, Silver!” Sebek protests, his voice trembling with the sheer force of his conviction. “The honor! The prestige!”

Meanwhile, Lilia floats into view, holding a plate of… something. “Don’t worry about dinner, dear. I’ve prepared a feast for you! Go on, take a bite.”

You stare at the plate. It looks like it might be alive. “I’m… good, thanks.”

“Nonsense! You need to keep your strength up!” Lilia insists, thrusting the plate closer to your face.

Silver sighs, finally sitting up. “You should just do what feels right,” he says, offering you a calm, reassuring smile. “Don’t let them pressure you.”

You glance between Malleus’s earnest expression, Sebek’s passionate pleas, and Lilia’s… questionable cooking. Your stomach growls, but you’re not sure if it’s hunger or the beginnings of a panic attack.

One thing’s for sure: if you survive this day, you’re going to need therapy.

The sun is setting by the time you finally drag your aching body back to Ramshackle. The dorm looms ahead, creaky and crumbling, but for once, it feels like a safe haven compared to the dorm-hopping marathon you just survived.

As you step inside, you’re greeted by the unmistakable voice of your ever-demanding feline companion. “There you are! What took ya so long? I’ve been waitin’ forever!”

Grim is sprawled on the couch, a can of tuna already half-empty beside him. He squints at you suspiciously. “So? Which dorm are we movin’ to?”

You groan, flopping face-first onto the nearest piece of semi-clean furniture. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“What?!” Grim squawks, leaping onto the armrest beside you. “What do ya mean you haven’t decided? This is important! We gotta pick one where I can get the most tuna, y’know?”

You tilt your head just enough to glare at him. “Oh, sure. Let me just base my entire living situation on your snack preferences.”

Grim puffs up, indignant. “Hey! I’ve been puttin’ up with this dump longer than anyone! I deserve to have a say!”

You sigh, the weight of the day finally catching up to you. Somehow, Grim being his usual self is oddly comforting after everything. No bribes, no PowerPoints, no gargoyle sales pitches—just Grim being Grim.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” you mumble, your voice muffled by the cushion. “I’m too tired to think.”

Grim eyes you for a moment before huffing. “Fine. But don’t take too long, got it? I’m not stickin’ around this dump forever!”

With that, he hops off to raid the kitchen, leaving you alone to sink further into the furniture. You stare at the ceiling, your brain too fried to process anything else.

Tomorrow. You’ll deal with it tomorrow. For now, all you want is to sleep in your creaky, drafty old dorm. At least here, no one’s trying to kidnap you.

Masterlist

[wheretrains]

I had never thought about it that way, but yeah that’s absolutely my experience too. Canadian winters were especially interesting.

When it would snow, the plough would come by and push all of the snow into snowbanks which would gradually harden into ice. As a kid, ice is a Cool Substance so we would set up “mines” to mine the ice.

We would also build small structures with the snow. I build a small blacksmith shop, where I used ice and rocks to shape the ice into chisels and hammers and knives. The other kids would buy the knives with larger pieces of ice. I would then use these to make more knives. I had a vault where I would store my best pieces of ice overnight

I pioneered a new building strategy: pouring slush on buildings would turn their outsides into ice overnight, making them more resistant to attack (there were different factions who were constantly at war).

There were also “illegal” snow slides on the hill, that were banned by the teachers because they didn’t want us to wreck the grass. We would make the slides when they weren’t looking, and charge ice to use them. Like a toll slide.

Eventually, territorial and resource based disputes led the principal to get involved and have to fairly distribute ice claims.

Oh, how I miss the snow society.

early homo sapiens b like help i cant stop making bowls . help i cant stop domesticating plants and animals. help i cant stop developing language and architecture and religion

[polytropic-liar]

What can you do to prepare for ICE enforcement actions?

I keep seeing that list of potential ICE target cities being shared around, so I'm breaking my "no organizing on tumblr" rule to share some info.

Credentialing: I'm an immigration lawyer, I've worked in immigration justice organizing for approximately a decade, I lead regular Know Your Rights trainings in my community.

Disclaimer: This is not legal advice. This is information about the US immigration system, and it may not be completely accurate to your specific location or situation. I am not soliciting clients on Tumblr. Do not message me confidential information about your, or anyone else's, immigration situation. If you need help with an immigration situation, the Immigration Advocates Network has a national database you can search by your location.

So, what can you do to help prepare for the event of an ICE enforcement action that impacts your community, friends, or family?

I. Assess risk

One of the most detrimental effects of the panic propaganda (which these constant threats of ICE raids absolutely are) is that it makes every single immigrant terrified, regardless of risk level. That saps the organizing power of immigrant communities and their supporters (like lawyers). You can help mitigate that effect by helping the people in your life and your community actually assess what their risk factors for targeting by ICE might be. This guide from 2017 for assessing risk from Immigrant Defense Project is a little dated at this point, but the basic information should be a good starting point.

Sometimes a risk assessment can help someone actually address some risk factors, like filing a renewal application, fixing their compliance with terms of their release before their parole is revoked, getting a lawyer to re-open their order of removal, or getting a criminal conviction mitigated/overturned. Even if it can't, it can help people have a more accurate picture of what their risk is, which people deserve to understand and to plan around.

II. Develop an emergency response plan

For people who are at risk of ICE arrest, detention, and potentially deportation, planning beforehand can make a huge difference. Immigrant Defense Project's guide to emergency preparedness is a great place to start. (Note: some of their linked resources are New York-specific. You may need to find ones for your state.)

If you're wondering how you can help the people you care about who are at risk, offer to play a role in their emergency plan. A great role for people who are fluent in English and familiar with US systems and structures is helping track someone through the detention system, and maintaining communications between them and their lawyer and outside community.

III. Prepare to document

Rapid response hotlines exist in all of the major cities on that list of potential targets. If they're not holding rapid response trainings right now, be patient: they probably will soon. Rapid response is often not about preventing an ICE enforcement action, it's about documenting it. It sucks that we often can't respond by stopping them from causing harm, but documentation provides leverage and opportunities for the people detained and for the community groups to use against ICE, which can win material victories, up to and including getting them to drop a deportation case and let someone go.

Do you film the police in your community, or otherwise document their actions? Documenting ICE works very similarly, they're just there less often and harder to identify. That means that you can train to document ICE by working with your local copwatch group. Learn how to generate good records, follow the local laws, store things securely, and connect with the people who can best use the data.

IV. Re-distribute resources

You know what really helps someone not get detained by ICE? Having the resources to avoid contact with them and with the criminal justice system. The most impactful detention prevention you can do with someone is to help them get their taillight fixed, secure a lease, pay for daycare for their kids, etc. Get people the money, access, and services they need to keep themselves safe! Do it now, and regularly: don't wait for someone to have an encounter that puts them on ICE's radar.

Can't afford to re-distribute resources directly? Most major cities in the US have "accompaniment" networks, where you can sign up to drive folks to get their licenses, and go with to the doctor, and help figure out how to get kids enrolled in school. This everyday, non-glamorous work is the most effective, meaningful, and useful thing you can do to help right now.

V. Collate and vet information

This isn't just about making sure what you share is verified (though it's significantly about that! I know the lure of chisme is so strong but please resist. Now more than ever, we have to take personal responsibility for not spreading misinformation!). It's also about something you, as a person reading this on the internet who therefore knows how to use at least one website, can do to be of service to the overwhelmed, scared, pissed off, and scrambling immigration justice groups right now. Find your local one, and ask: "Hey do you need more people finding news about immigration, checking it for reliability, and delivering it to you in one coordinated, easily-accessed place so you can decide how to disseminate it?" Not everyone needs that right now. But the ones who do will cry with gratitude. This is a particularly good role for folks who may have been feeling like their mobility or physical health meant they couldn't do anything to help against ICE--your skills are needed right now too, I promise.

Last note: I'm not going to tell you to calm down. It's reasonable and rational to be scared, and upset, and angry right now. But what I will say is: when the fear and outrage fade, the work won't end. I work with people who have been responding to ICE/INS actions for 40 years. A lot of this may feel brand new and terrifying to you, but to many of us, this is a familiar and known enemy that we spend our whole lives fighting.

It being familiar doesn't make it okay, or acceptable: it should all burn. But the organizing infrastructure to respond to this is here already. We're not helpless or surprised about what's happening, because we prepare for it every day. We're ready to fold you in with open arms whenever you want.

[bellaxgiornata]

You Are My Sunshine [1]

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word count: 5.3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Summary: Recently released from a stint in Stockton Prison with a few of the Sons, Jax is still struggling with Tara returning to Chicago over a year after he killed Agent Kohn for her. When he returned to Charming, Jax noticed a coffee shop had sprung up across the street from Teller-Morrow Automotive and the clubhouse, oddly finding himself watching the strangely cheerful owner through the windows. One night he feels drawn to step inside, but he's left even more confused when the owner feels like the embodiment of sunshine itself. Jax quickly realizes that the more he visits her shop, the more at peace he finds himself.

Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)

a/n: Not everything will be true to canon in this little series, and this first part starts out in Jax's POV. I just couldn't resist the idea of Jax with someone so bright and bubbly bringing some happiness his way. As a note since I'm newer in the SoA fanfic scene, I always do my best to refrain from adding physical descriptions to Readers, but they are still some form of a character personality-wise. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Placing the cigarette between his lips, Jax flipped open his lighter and held the flame up to the tip of it. He was itching for something right now–a smoke, a drink, a fuck, a fight. He couldn’t quite tell the difference anymore. Everything felt the same–a neverending blur. The days had all begun to bleed together ever since he and the guys had been released from Stockton the other month. 

And everything felt the goddamn same as it did before he'd gone in.

Taking a drag on the cigarette, he pocketed the lighter and leant back against the brick of the clubhouse behind him. Laughter and blaring music was pouring out of the building, the noise always far too loud to be contained by the structure. The Sons were partying again tonight, celebrating a successful closure of a deal from earlier in the day. But for some reason Jax hadn’t felt like partying. The air in the clubhouse felt suffocating, which was why he’d stepped outside into the balmy summer night for a cigarette instead.

As a trail of smoke curled its way upwards from between his lips, Jax stared vacantly across the otherwise empty lot, his eyes landing on the line of motorcycles across from him. His mind inevitably wandered back to Tara while he smoked, something it often did ever since she’d reappeared in his life over a year ago just to disappear all over again. Running away. That's what she had always done best.

He hated that he couldn’t get her out of his head even after all this time. But what he hated even more was that part of him still felt like it was holding onto the ridiculous hope that she’d come back to him. That she might wake up one day and return to Charming and somehow just accept him for who he was, who he'd always been. But that was a fucking bullshit hope and he knew it.

Jax’s jaw clenched in irritation, his fingers tightening around his cigarette as he drew it back up to his lips for another sharp inhale. It was impossible not to think that Tara had used him just to get rid of Kohn knowing that he’d be sympathetic to her situation. Knowing damn well that Jax would never have just walked away when she came to him for help. And it pissed him off that she’d played him like that–that he had let her play him like that. Especially when he’d been so fucking vulnerable after Abel had been born with all of his health complications weighing on his mind. 

He had needed her in return, but Tara hadn’t cared about what Jax was going through. She hadn’t cared about the fact that until that moment, Jax had never killed like he'd killed that night  for her. Every time before had always been for the club–for self-defense, retaliation. But that night? That night it had been out of love. It had been because he'd been protecting someone he cared about. And Tara had thrown him away a second time right afterwards, not even bothering to think about how any of it had affected Jax.

Movement across the street caught Jax’s attention, breaking through his spiraling, agitated thoughts. His head turned as he stood in the dimly lit parking lot, pulling the cigarette away from his lips and blowing out a plume of smoke as his eyes landed on you across the street through the large glass windows of your coffee shop. 

Honest Coffee. You’d opened it at some point when he and a few of the Sons had been doing a few months in Stockton, but ever since he’d gotten out, he’d found his gaze drawn across the street to that building more times than he’d ever willingly care to admit. And he wasn’t entirely sure why, either. Jax was not the kind of guy you’d find sitting inside of a coffee shop sipping on some fancy ass, overly sweetened and overpriced bullshit cup of coffee. That wasn’t his thing. So of course he’d never actually ventured inside the shop that had opened up across the street from the clubhouse and Teller-Morrow Automotive.

But for some goddamn reason he couldn’t help but look.

The entire place stood out amongst the old, worn brick buildings beside it. You’d painted the exterior brick white and hung up some bold, black sign with the shop’s name on it above the entrance. There were even a few little tables and chairs on the sidewalk out front along with writing on one of the large glass windows that read ‘Support your local caffeine dealer.’ Which, for some goddamn reason, amused Jax to no end considering your shop was located across the street from actual arms dealers. 

And there were plants. Goddamn, the amount of plants. A few large potted ones sat outside by the front doors, and there were a handful hanging over all of the large open windows. And, from what Jax had been able to see when he’d ridden past the place multiple times, you had plants on the tables inside, too. So many fucking plants it was like you were making coffee in a damn jungle. He didn’t understand why you had so many or how the hell they always looked like they were thriving. He’d often heard Gemma even compliment the goddamn plants the few times she’d stopped over to get herself coffee.

But it wasn’t entirely the plants or what you’d done to the building to make it appear so warm and inviting in downtown Charming that had him constantly staring across the street. It was you, if he was being honest with himself. You were always working there. He’d already come to assume that you were more than just a barista and that you actually owned the coffee shop with how frequently you were there. And you were attractive, that wasn’t even remotely a question. But you were nothing like the women at the clubhouse, or Redwoody, or Diosa. Where most of the women he’d encountered in his life were all rough and hard edges, you always seemed so soft and sweet. Like a warmth just radiated off of you everytime you smiled. 

And you were always fucking smiling over there. Whenever Jax watched you through the windows, whether he was outside having a smoke with the guys or by himself, you were guaranteed to be standing somewhere in that shop talking to someone with a smile on your face. Despite the fact that he didn't understand how one damn person could smile so damn much in a day, he’d sometimes found himself wondering what it would be like to see that smile up close, to have it directed at himself. There was just something about it, even from this distance across the street, that made it look different from any other smile he felt like he’d been given in his life. Like it was real and not covering a hidden agenda. 

Jax took a final drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground beside his feet, crushing it out beneath his shoe. His eyes were still on you through those large glass windows as he did. It looked like you were closing up the shop for the day. You were alone inside, the entire place empty as you swept the floor with a broom. But it almost looked like you were dancing as you cleaned, your hips swaying as your lips moved. The corner of Jax’s lips twisted upwards faintly at the sight. Who the hell were you? You were cleaning in an empty shop in downtown Charming, all alone just after sunset, across the street from the disliked and notorious motorcycle club, and you were dancing as you swept?

Who the fuck looked so happy to be cleaning?

Without even thinking, Jax pushed off the wall of the clubhouse and let his feet carry him away from the party raging behind him. An incredulous look was etched across his usually hard features as he began to cross the empty street and make his way towards your coffee shop. Eventually he came to a stop just outside of the front door, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he watched the back of you for a minute through the windows. Unquestionably you were inside dancing and sweeping as you listened to–what Jax assumed as he stood just outside–stupid coffee shop music. An amused huff came out of him as he shook his head at the sight.

Not even bothering to check if your shop was closed on the hours listed on the door, Jax slipped a hand out of his pocket and pulled it open. No bell chimed to alert you of his presence, meaning you continued your cleaning and soft singing to yourself with your back facing him, completely unaware you had a customer. A smug smirk tugged at his lips as he sauntered further inside the shop, making his way over to the counter near the register before resting an arm against the white countertop. He leaned his weight against it, crossing his ankles as his head cocked to the side, his blue eyes fixed on you. 

Christ, you looked adorable. Not a thought he often had about women. Usually he went for the ones at the clubhouse barely dressed in much of anything who were always very eager to spend the night with him. Even a few of the girls at Diosa and the pornstars at Redwoody that had sometimes caught his eye would never have been called anything close to ‘adorable’ by Jax. But you just looked so goddamn sweet and you hadn’t even noticed him standing behind you staring.

Clearing his throat, Jax figured he should probably alert you to his presence. He didn’t want to scare you, which he had a feeling might happen if you turned around and spotted someone that looked like him just quietly watching you.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so damn happy sweeping a floor before,” Jax called out.

The way you startled at his voice, spinning around abruptly with a soft, surprised gasp while throwing a hand over your heart, had a pleased grin growing on Jax’s face. You looked so surprised with your wide eyes and parted lips. He almost wanted to laugh, but instead he bit his bottom lip and held the sound back. 

“Relax, darlin’. I’m not here to rob your coffee shop,” he teased.

Almost immediately your expression shifted, the look of surprise disappearing and being replaced with a friendly smile that lit up your entire face. The sight of it did something to Jax, taking him by surprise. Because it was nighttime, you were alone in your shop, and here Jax had stood unannounced behind you, and yet your reaction was to just smile at him like he was some old friend you’d been expecting to see?

A soft laugh fell from your lips as Jax watched you turn around towards him, leaning some of your weight against the broom handle in your hands while your eyes took in the sight of him. He noticed the way you'd briefly scanned his kutte, but that kind smile remained stretched across your pretty mouth when your gaze once more met his.

“I wasn't thinking you were going to, you just startled me,” you answered. “You're extremely quiet on your feet, you know.”

Jax chuckled at the comment, his grin growing a little more amused. If only you knew the half of it.

“I may have been told that a time or two,” he replied, his eyes still taking you in without a hint of subtlety.

“Well,” you began, a playful lilt to your tone, completely unbothered by his gaze, “you know what they say about strange men showing up unannounced after closing, don’t you?”

Completely thrown by the unexpected teasing question coming from someone who looked as sweet as you, Jax couldn’t fight back the small chuckle that managed to fall out of him. “No, darlin’, I don’t. What do they say?” he asked.

Your perceptive eyes, which were still lit from the warmth of your smile, watched the way Jax continued to lean so casually against the countertop. You didn't appear even remotely fazed by his presence here and he found that so incredibly odd. 

“That they want a coffee,” you answered matter-of-factly.

Jax raised a brow curiously at your response, your smile somehow widening even further on your lips. You were not what he'd expected–and he'd already expected you to be something sweet and nice. But it was almost like you were more than even just that. It felt like the goddamn sun was shining on him when you smiled at him, and he didn't know what to make of it. No one in Charming that was an outsider to the club was this kind and friendly to its members. Most of the town had a healthy fear and a good amount of disdain at this point for the Sons.

But not you, apparently.

“Thought you were closing?” Jax asked, shaking the thoughts from his mind as he eyed you curiously. 

You laughed lightly yet again, turning and resting the broom against the shop’s counter now. “Didn't stop you from sneaking in, friend.” You glanced over your shoulder at him, completely genuine in your question as you asked, “So, would you like a coffee?”

An amused noise of disbelief rumbled out of Jax. You spoke to him as if he was any other goddamn customer coming into your shop. He'd never been treated so normal before. 

“Guess if you're offering, sweetheart, then yes,” he finally answered. Jax moved over, lowering himself into one of the chairs at the small counter as he watched you make your way around it. “Though I can't say I'd normally be caught dead ordering anything from a coffee shop.”

Coming to a stop in front of him just on the other side of the counter, your head tilted curiously to the side as you studied him closely. Jax stiffened under the weight of your gaze. It almost felt like you were seeing right through him with the way your eyes ran over his face so carefully. As if you were really taking him in. He wondered what you saw when you looked at him, but then that damn sweet smile was plastered across your lips again before you were speaking.

“Then I'm honored to be the first. And,” you continued, the sound of your voice somehow temporarily soothing that constant burning rage inside of Jax, “I'll even make it on the house. Free of charge this time.”

Jax blinked back at you, stunned into silence for a moment. But then he shook his head, waving a hand at you. “Not gonna let you do that, darlin’. I can pay for a coffee.”

“Didn't say you couldn't, I'm just trying to spread some kindness. Looks you've had a rough day,” you replied, a softness in your voice that wasn't there a moment ago. But then the bright, playfulness was back as you pointed a finger at him. “You look like a regular coffee kind of guy. No creamer, bit of sugar. Am I right?” 

“I…yeah,” Jax answered, a little taken aback at how quickly you'd read him and how easily you spoke to him. “Yeah, I am.”

“There's sweetener on that counter behind you,” you said, gesturing at something behind Jax before you turned around.

He glanced briefly over his shoulder at what you’d pointed out before he focused back on you. Watching in silence, his eyes remained on the back of you as you started on his cup of coffee, but his brows soon furrowed as he watched you work. He'd never seen someone make coffee the way you were doing now. What in the hell were you doing?

“Don't you just...have a machine, sweetheart?” Jax asked slowly.

A soft laugh came from you as you worked, your back to him as you answered. “Pour over is better than drip. I promise.” Glancing over your shoulder, you smiled at him once more. “Just trust me.”

Still baffled and confused as to what in the hell you were doing, he couldn't help but to keep watching you in silence, completely confused as to how in the hell you were making him what should be just a simple cup of coffee. He really never had stepped foot into a coffee shop before–a big chain one or a locally owned place. He didn’t even know why he’d crossed the street and come over here in the first place, especially with the party going on at the clubhouse where he was supposed to be. 

Lost in his thoughts, Jax’s eyes inevitably dropped down to your ass, taking in the shape of it in your jeans. His head tilted appreciatively to the side as his attention focused on that instead of trying to understand the strange pull he'd felt to step inside your shop once and for all tonight. His tongue slipped out, running along the length of his bottom lip as he took in the unobstructed view before him. You filled your jeans out damn good.

“So you got a name, friend?” you asked, your voice breaking through his thoughts. “Or am I just supposed to keep calling you ‘friend’?”

Jax found himself mentally chastising himself at your interruption, his eyes moving back to yours as you turned around, leaning your back against the counter behind you. There was a sincere expression on your face, like you actually cared to know who he was, and that had him feeling guilty for the way he'd just been looking at you. You weren't like the girls he surrounded himself with, you were actually good. He shouldn't be eyeing you like that. There was no way in hell you'd ever be interested in a man like him, and you definitely didn't look like the one-and-done kind of girl.

“It's Jax,” he answered. “Jax Teller. You got a name, darlin’?”

A small smile curled the corners of his lips upwards when you gave him your name so easily. He had a feeling this was one of the rare times he wouldn't just immediately forget a woman's name after she'd given it to him. 

“You always this cheerful, darlin’?” he asked next, unable to resist the question that had been gradually growing in his mind the longer he sat here. “Or is this some professional, friendly barista persona that you throw on when you're here at work?”

Jax watched as you turned around to the back counter against the tiled wall again, picking up the strange glass container you'd just made the coffee in before pouring it into a to-go cup for him. You were quiet as you worked before turning around and crossing the space over to where Jax was sitting. Reaching a hand out, Jax accepted the coffee from yours, but when his rough fingers brushed against your soft ones, he felt the corners of his lips twitch.

“Owner,” you said softly, your hands resting on the countertop. “Not a barista. And it's not a persona I throw on for work, this is just me.”

Jax’s brows drew together at that as he got off his chair and made his way over to the counter by the entrance to add in some sweetener to the coffee. How the hell was anyone just that friendly and cheerful naturally? Without it being a front? But as he stirred his coffee, wandering back over to the counter and taking his seat again, he noticed that you looked sincere.

“How the hell are you this friendly to everyone?” he asked, sitting back down in the chair at the counter, his coffee momentarily forgotten.

“Because I like being nice,” you simply replied.

Jax made a face at that answer. Who the fuck liked being nice all of the time? That had to be bullshit. There had to be people you didn't like, people that you weren't quite so kind towards. People like him who definitely didn't deserve an ounce of kindness.

“Bullshit,” Jax argued, eyes narrowing at you in suspicion. “There's gotta be rude customers you aren't such a ray of sunshine towards, right? Bad people you don't want in here?”

He watched as your fingers lightly drummed against the countertop, your smile smaller but not gone from your lips. Almost like it was just a permanent fixture on your face.

“I believe everyone deserves some kindness,” you answered genuinely after a moment, holding Jax’s gaze. “Because you never know the weight of what someone is carrying on their shoulders. And sometimes, all someone needs is a kind word or a smile in their day.”

Jax just sat there in silence for a moment, staring at you like you'd just said the most absolutely ridiculous thing. And honestly, he felt like you had. You looked so naive and innocent standing there behind your counter full of those goddamn plants you appeared to love so much.

“You realize who I am, right?” 

The question had slipped out of Jax without much forethought, but he was curious now. Were you somehow that oblivious as to who your shop was across the street from? Was that why you were being so friendly to him?

“Yeah,” you answered with a nod, your eyes focusing behind Jax at the clubhouse through the window for a second before returning to him. “I've seen a lot of you with those…vests? Over there across the street.”

Jax couldn’t stop the chuckle that rumbled out of him. Vests. That was cute. Jesus, you really weren't part of his world at all, were you? You probably had no damn idea about the pistol in his “vest.”

“Kuttes, darlin’. They're called kuttes,” he told you as he drew his cup towards his mouth while he spoke. “They're a bit different and more important than just some vest.”

Jax took a sip of the hot coffee, entirely planning to continue his explanation about how wrong you were about the kuttes, but he was taken off guard by the drink. He hadn't expected it to taste as good as it did. He'd drank coffee before–a shitload of it most days because Jax was no stranger to sleepless nights even before Abel came into the picture–but this didn't taste like the acidic, burnt trash that he'd grown used to masking with sugar.

The sound of your delighted laugh drew his gaze back up to your face. A bright, amused smile was shining back at him. The sight momentarily had Jax forgetting about everything–the coffee, the kuttes, his anger at Tara, the clubhouse party he should be getting back to. All he could do was stare at you, taking in the sight of your smile and the way it felt like it had somehow warmed him more than that hot coffee ever could.

“Is it good?” you asked, gesturing your head towards the cup in his hand. “The coffee?”

Blinking a couple of times, Jax looked back down at the paper cup warming his hand, attempting to return to his senses. “Yeah,” he answered. Roughly clearing his throat, he snapped out of whatever it was that your smile had just done to him. “How the hell do you get your coffee to taste so damn good?”

A pleased smile spread its way across your face when Jax looked back at you. He liked the way a glimmer of something–pride, maybe–reflected back at him in your eyes.

“All about the roast and the extraction, Jax,” you replied. “Fresh, good quality beans that have just been ground make a world of difference. But I'm glad you like it. I've always said a great cup of coffee can help make a bad day better.”

Jax chuckled again, shaking off that weird sensation from a moment ago and drawing the cup up to his lips for another drink of the hot liquid. Goddamn, is this why people paid more instead of just making it their damn selves? Did it actually taste that much better from a coffee shop? 

“Maybe for some people,” Jax mused as he lowered the cup, his eyes fixed on you behind the counter. “But I don't think a cup of coffee is gonna do a damn thing to fix my problems, darlin’.”

Unfazed by his attitude, you simply shrugged a shoulder in response. “You never know, maybe you just haven't had the right cup of coffee yet.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Jax's mouth. You were adorable. Naive, but adorable.

“I don't think coffee is the solution to anything other than how damn tired I am,” he disagreed.

Loud shouting from across the street caught both of your attention from the shop, the noise interrupting the conversation. Jax noticed the way your eyes darted to the window almost instantly before he sighed and looked over his shoulder behind him. A handful of the guys were outside drunk and having a smoke in the clubhouse lot, a few of the hangarounds clinging to them in their short shorts and crop tops. The sight of them out there was sobering. He knew he should get back to the clubhouse, especially now with how he was beginning to feel a little guilty that he'd interrupted you trying to close your shop.

Turning around in his chair, Jax entirely expected to see some sort of judgmental look on your face at the Sons and the croweaters across the street. It was how everyone outside of the club looked at them. But there was only a hint of genuine curiosity before your gaze shifted back to him in front of you. His brows furrowed faintly together at that, but he quickly pushed the growing questions away. It didn't matter. 

“I should get back over there,” Jax told you. “Make sure those shitheads don't cause too much trouble. And I should let you finish closing up.”

He rose from the chair at the counter, his lips straightening along his face as he got to his feet with his coffee in hand. For some reason, he found he didn't really want to go back over to the clubhouse, though. Whatever frustration he'd been feeling before he had walked over here tonight had somehow just vanished within the short time he'd spent sitting here talking to you. Something no amount of drinking, fucking, or riding his bike had even managed.

“You're right, it's well past close for me now,” you admitted, glancing at the clock on the wall behind yourself.

Another pang of guilt flooded Jax at your words. It was completely his fault that you were here so late now because he had stupidly walked in here for…he didn't even know what. Except that smile returned to your face again almost immediately, as if you weren't even upset that he had interrupted your night. 

“I'm curious about something, sweetheart,” Jax found himself saying, his eyes narrowing at you as he spoke. “Would you have kicked me out at some point tonight, or are you too nice for that, too?”

Another small, casual shrug came in response to the question. “Eventually, yes,” you answered. “I do need to eventually go home and sleep before coming back here tomorrow morning.” You paused, that look on your face like you were seeing straight through him briefly returning before you continued. “But you looked like you needed…something. Figured a coffee wouldn't hurt, at least.”

Jax stood there staring at you, just taking in what you had said and that warm, friendly smile. It didn't make sense–you didn't make sense. And he wasn't sure how he felt about the way you seemed to actually see him. It was unsettling.

“You're an odd one, sunshine,” he murmured. 

Almost instantly, a delighted laugh met Jax’s ears as he took another sip of his coffee. As he swallowed the drink down, his own lips couldn't keep from drawing themselves upwards at the sound. 

“Sunshine?” you asked, both of your brows raising back at him.

Bottom lip rolling between his teeth, Jax bit back the grin threatening to spread across his face as he nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sunshine,” he repeated. “Suits you. You're so goddamn friendly and nice.”

“Well that's a new one for me,” you told him.

There was something different about the smile on your face now, but Jax couldn't quite place what it was. He'd never had a woman smile at him like that before. Not even Tara.

The thought of Tara was like a kick to the chest, a jolt of pain shooting through Jax. His expression abruptly fell, aware that all the usual thoughts he'd had about her after she had left him a second time were going to come back and hit him hard the second he walked out of your shop. 

“Right. I should let you close,” he replied tersely. 

Giving you a nod in goodbye, Jax's mouth felt dry as he turned around towards the exit. A confusing mix of thoughts were swirling in his mind now.

“Goodnight, Jax,” you called out behind him.

The sweet, soft tone gave him pause as he rested one hand on the door handle. His blonde brows drew together, jaw clenching tight as that familiar rage and darkness inside of him felt like it was clawing its way up his chest, threatening to spill out of him in the form of some rude comment that would knock that friendly smile off your face. He didn't deserve you treating him like this. He was a terrible person. He knew he could prove it to you with just a few simple words, but before he could open his mouth, you spoke again.

“Feel free to stop in again sometime,” you told him. “You're welcome here anytime just like anyone else, Sons’ President or not.” A soft noise almost like a little laugh came next before you added on, “Preferably when I'm open, though.”

His body went rigid at that pleasant, melodic little laugh of yours. Slowly, Jax turned to look over his shoulder at you still standing behind the counter. You were indeed over there smiling, but the urge to be an asshole just to show you what kind of man he really was–that he shouldn't be treated like everyone else–disappeared almost immediately at the sight of it. How the hell did you keep doing that? Keep disarming him so easily with just a goddamn smile?

“I'll keep that in mind,” he muttered.

Without giving you a chance to say more, confused as to the weird effect you seemed to have on him, he pushed the door open and stepped back out into the summer evening. The noise from the clubhouse across the street carried its way to Jax’s ears as he began to make his way back over to where the Sons were smoking in the parking lot. He took another drink of his coffee as he went, his thoughts briefly straying to you and that entire strange encounter he'd just had.

There was just something about you that was so damn unfamiliar to Jax. You were all light and warmth, like the embodiment of sunshine itself. Nothing like anyone he'd ever met before in his life and it intrigued him as much as it bothered him. For weeks he had been watching you through your shop window wondering what it would be like to have you smile at him like he'd often seen you smile at all of your other customers, and now he knew. It felt like the summer sun finally rising to start the day after a long, dark night. And Jax found himself oddly craving more of your warmth, suddenly not giving a shit if he got burned in the process.

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part five)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: after what happened, jayce is committed to helping you learn the physics material. even if it means daily sessions and spreading himself extremely thin.

harsh language (cursing, off-hand kms jokes), jayce mom angst, actual physics but I hope it makes sense…I swear I chose relatively simple concepts!! (If you need more context for the graph Jayce made, legit just google physics electron progression 1s 1p and a chart with arrows should come up on google) 

notes: might fuck around and post the next part asap because its that good

word count: 1.9k

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

Somehow the next week was even more stressful than the last few. With the looming stress of this week’s quiz and the strenuous schedule Jayce had you on—you were beginning to wonder if these study sessions were even going to pay off. 

He agreed to meet at your place. He’d show up every day, on the dot, supplies in hand. The happy expression on his face made you feel optimistic at first. You were ready to take on physics with a new level of confidence.

That was Monday.

By Wednesday, Jayce’s upbeat mood and cheery outlook just drained you even more. When Thursday came around, one day before the quiz, you were sure you were at your limit. 

“Hi, Jayce.” You spoke in monotone, opening the door before he could even knock. You turned away from him, allowing him to step into your apartment and close the door himself. 

He poked at your disinterested tone. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Yes, well I think that I’ve consumed enough physics this week that I might be reincarnated as Bohr…but that’s fine.” You stalked to your room, “That’s assuming my brain cells aren’t stuck in their own orbits or whatever the fuck.”

“Wait,” he paused in the middle of the hall leading to your room. 

“What?” 

“You…just made a physics joke.” He pointed to you, his tone increasing in amazement. “And it actually made sense-“ 

“It should.” You turned away from him, continuing into your room. “If I have to hear about atomic structure, valence electrons, or nucleus-es any more I might kill myself.” 

“Nuclei.” 

“Huh?” You pulled out the chair at your desk, allowing space for him to sit at the chair next to yours. 

He sat beside you, grabbing your notebook. He flipped to a fresh page as he spoke, “Nuclei is the plural…for when you mean more than one nucleus.” 

“Not to be that person but I think we may have bigger fish to fry than my grammar, Jayce.” 

“You’re right.” He rubbed his hands together, “Where should we start?” 

“Well we left off with electron configuration. I understand the concept…kind of…but I can’t remember all of these damn numbers. The pattern is weird.” 

Jayce reached toward the floor, seeing some of the papers from the previous day still thrown about. He grabbed one with the electron chart—clearly marked with notes and color coordinated to help you remember. 

“I think its best we start with this…if you’re trying to remember and do the problem at the same time you won’t understand it.” He slid the paper in front of you, setting it aside from the book. He then reached for another paper he’d bought—a worksheet. “Here’s some more examples for you to work on. Why don’t you try the first one like we practiced?”

You whined a bit, “Do I have to?” 

“Do you want to get a good grade?” 

You paused, snatching the pencil from the table. “Just because you have a good point doesn’t mean I like it.” 

He remained silent, stifling a laugh. He looked over your shoulder, watching you work out the questions. Somehow you’d made an already long question exponentially longer—working through a method that seemed to work for you. It of course tacked on extra minutes to each problem, though.

“How’s this?” You looked to Jayce for approval. 

“This is…” His eyes scanned your writing. Among the many cross outs and faint eraser marks was not a correct answer, but one extremely close. “This is almost right. You just messed up at the end here.” 

“What? No way-“ You looked at his finger pointing between the chart and your work, spotting the error. “Oh…I see what I did wrong.” 

“Good…wanna try and fix it?” 

You didn’t make direct eye contact, but honed in on the paper—encouraged to get the correct answer. He lingered over your movements with a watchful eye until you were done. 

“Okay…how about now?” You held the book out to Jayce.

“Amazing.” 

“But you didn’t check-“ 

“I did—watched you do the whole thing.” 

You turned to Jayce, “Sure you did.” 

“No, really.” He pushed the notebook back to you. “In fact, I think you’re ready to do three of these.” 

“You sure?” 

He nodded, pushing the materials back in a group for you to work on. “You got this.” 

Jayce sat silently again, catching the way you’d twisted your lips in concentration. Your grip on the pencil was harsh, the wood pressing into your skin in a way he was sure should hurt. Even so, you didn’t give up. The process became longer than he expected. His vision started to blur, his focus becoming less sharp, but he stayed watching. 

Eventually, you turned to him, several minutes having passed. To both of your surprise, you did rather well. Jayce traced over your handwriting, noting the simple mistakes you needed to keep an eye out for. You nodded alongside him, physically writing down the notes he gave you. Before you continued, you decided on a quick break. 

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink, do you want anything?” 

“No,” Jayce yawned suddenly, “I’m good.” He moved to rub his eyes, sorting through some of the papers that had found their way to the floor. He turned a bit, watching you leave the room. 

You rounded the corner, beelining for the refrigerator and cabinets for a snack—you needed fuel immediately.

With an inhale, you leaned back into the kitchen countertop. Truthfully, you were feeling a bit more confident now, but if you were feeling drained you could only imagine Jayce. You made quick work of grabbing a few more snacks for him and a bottle of water before heading back to the room. 

Before crossing the threshold, you froze—the sound of light snores filled the room. 

Jayce had fallen asleep. 

A crooked smile found a way to your lips, the sight of him admittedly being very cute. Despite him being asleep, his lashes fluttered a bit. His lips parted and let out the sound of his breath. In an occurrence that should provide him comfort, intensity still lingered in his brows; they were pinched together in worry. You didn’t miss the way his lip would occasionally twitch—fighting off the pain that lived in him. 

With a quick motion, you quietly set the things you’d grabbed to the side. Making sure you stepped lightly—you swung open the closet and grabbed a blanket to lay over him. You gulped at the action, not even giving it a second thought. The thought left you just as quickly as it had appeared, your feet moving you back toward your desk and open notebook. 

Your eyes scanned over your work and the example problems pensively—immediately feeling an overwhelming sensation fill you. Your palms began to sweat, fingers and hands shaking in front of you. A slow blink and deep breath allowed you to calm yourself, enough to grab your pencil and start in on the example problems. Jayce turned then, still sleeping but fidgeting a bit. You had to try to do this—on your own. 

For a while, you worked on the problems only, afraid to crosscheck for the answers. Eventually, you’d grown confidence to check. There were a few you’d gotten wrong, circling back to check what you did incorrectly with a motivated scribble. Others, you’d gotten right, though. A warm feeling sat inside you, a pride over finally understanding the material. 

Beside you, Jayce started to stir before quickly sitting up in panic. “Fuck, when did I fall asleep?” 

You looked to your left, the clock hanging above. “Like an hour ago.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m supposed to be helping you.” He moved to stand, folding the blanket you’d placed over him. 

“Figured you could use the down time.” 

He moved closer to the chair, watching you lean your head up to look at him. His shoulders slumped at the optimism in your gaze. “I feel like I’m fucking this up.” He drew in a dramatic breath, “Am I a bad tutor?” 

You pushed the chair back a bit, letting him look at your self-graded work. “You tell me.” 

His eyes raked over the paper, bending over the blanket in his grasp. He took his time surveying all the written out problems. His nostrils flared when he would let out an amused chuckle at the ones you went back to fix. He leaned away, “You’re pretty smart, huh?” 

“Well,” You stood, grabbing the blanket from him. “I have a not so bad tutor.” 

Jayce folded his arms, “Right.” 

You turned to put the blanket away. When you got back to your desk, you gestured for Jayce to find his seat next to yours again. As the two of you were finally sat, Jayce spoke up. 

“So,” he cleared his throat, “How are you feeling? I mean, like mental health wise. I know it’s been a lot.” 

“I think…I’m working on it.” You nodded, “As best as I can.” 

“That’s good. You should be proud.” 

“Thank you, I try to be.” You swallowed, seeming to look off into the distance. The quietness of the room made you want to speak to fill it. “How’s your mom?” 

Jayce watched you grimace at the abrupt question, but felt grateful you asked. “She’s okay. I spend a lot of time with her—helping and doing whatever she needs to feel comfortable.” He looks down at his hands in his lap. “Think it’s just a hard time for her, feeling herself be weak in a way she’s never been before.” 

You nodded then, looking at his downturned gaze. “I get that.” 

“I’m trying really hard to be what she needs me to be, whatever that looks like.” He readjusted, “Sometimes I think that’s a good student…to keep my grades up. Other times I think it’s to just be a good son…show up every day after class. It’s exhausting trying to figure it out.” 

“I can only imagine.” 

“It’s different with you though.” He jumped a bit at the way your head snapped to him. He spoke quickly, “I just mean that…I know what my purpose is. I can physically see you improving.” He rubbed his neck, “I’m not making sense am I?” 

You shook your head, “I’m attempting to follow-“ 

“I guess I should just thank you, then.” 

“Thank me? For what?” 

“For letting me help you. For letting me have a purpose outside of just student, son, friend, whatever.” He placed a hand on the desk in front of you, closing the gap between you. He finally let his eyes meet your again, a sincere look on his face. “Thank you.” 

A tight feeling ran through you, pushing from your chest outward. You didn’t break the eye contact, though. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, Jayce.” 

“I don’t think I give you enough.” 

A breath caught in your throat, suddenly overwhelmed by the lingering look Jayce had on you. The both of you stayed there, looking between one another’s eyes. Jayce’s movement forward was almost imperceptible; you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been studying every feature on him.

His phone dinged—piercing through the palpable tension in your room. He looked away, a reluctance in his motion. You looked toward the door in a huff, pushing away the feeling that had creeped up on you so quickly. 

“Sorry, it’s Mel.” 

“Oh,” you turned to him expectantly, “Do you need to go?” 

Without missing a beat he turned his phone face down and folded his hands in front of you. “Nope…I’m good here.” 

“Okay, then.” 

He slid the book from in front of you, splitting the distance. “Let’s get a better look at this amazing work you did.” 

Your tongue pushed on the inside of your cheek, the skin puffing out and heating at the praise. 

“Alright, then.” 

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses @myxticmoon @rando-no-5

[captaindibbzy]

I did my dissertation at uni on the heroes journey in spider man and let me tell you it doesn't fit for shit. You can sort of get the start of it in there, but at no point does Peter "return changed" to the world he came from. He is perpetually stuck in the middle, so it offers no structural help for understanding the story. Even if you take an isolated story (I picked spider island) you can at best fit about half the structure of the heroes journey in it. But ultimately it will leave no lasting implications. He does not emerge changed at the end and neither does anyone else.

So, like, it doesn't even apply to western stories.

alright, I’m annoyed with the class that I’m taking. it’s about writing novels, and I thought it would have cool stuff about balancing your narrative and developing themes etc, but instead she spent the first class talking about how every book fits into the Hero’s Journey (the monomyth template). and I was somewhat of a contrarian, and said “can you give us examples of books that don’t fit into this template?” and she said “no. because all books fit.”

but I dunno man, I just finished reading this Korean book where the plot is just the character having a string of hookups and reflecting on them without changing in any way. I don’t know if it’s possible to contort that into the Hero’s Journey.

[vee-art-zone]

God i wish Igloos got the same structure love that 1.20 gave to ocean ruins, wells and desert temples. I hope I've made it clear that the snowy biomes are imo the least interesting biome in MC to explore and potentially my least favorite overall. When I'm flying around with my elytra exploring for new loot (as i often am) I find myself instinctively turning around when I hit a snowy biome because even my subconscious knows there's no unique loot to be found there.

Let's compare the Snowy Plains with a biome that is, in many ways, its counterpart - The Desert. One hot and one cold, but both barren, flat, devoid of most passive mobs to set up farms, and chock full of rabbits. The differences though, lie in the loot and structures tied to these 2 biomes.

The Desert:

Best source of Sand, one of the last major non-renewable resources that have endgame players returning to them to gather it up by the boxful

Cacti (also found in badlands, the desert's cousin) are the only source of Green dye.

Are the only biome whos representative village has a unique mob - the Camel. A reliable mount, players are encouraged to seek out 2 desert villages to breed up a population of camels.

Desert temples have, hands down, the best loot for their place in the game. 4 chests that regularly have diamonds, enchanted books, gunpowder, gold, and an exclusive Armor Trim? Also have an archaeology pit with 4 exclusive sherds

Even desert wells have 2 sherds to their name, making 6 of these collectable trinkets exclusive to deserts.

Ranking: A biome I make sure to scour every inch of when I find one to loot every structure there for the minerals, trims and sherds. and return to again and again to grab extra sand and eventually bring Camels home.

Now let's look at the Tundra:

You need 8 snowballs (which can be found far more plentifully in biomes far more interesting) to make a snow golem, giving you access to infinite snow and no reason to return here

Polar Bears are semi-exclusive to this biome, although can also be found in Frozen Oceans (which have more loot courtesy of the shipwrecks and ocean ruins). However, Polar Bears are imo one of the least interesting animals in MC, due to being unbreedable and not really. Doing anything. (As much as I preach not every mob needs a 'Use'™, they should still have interesting behaviors and Do Things. There's not a whole lot the player can do with polar bears to inspire the imagination. I'd love to see them get reworked and polished someday!)

Ice Spikes are interesting biomes with basically nothing in them other than the pretty scenery (which I'll admit is very pretty, it gets points for that). It used to be the only source of the highly-useful Packed Ice block, until 1.13 made it 100x more plentiful in the much more common Frozen Ocean biome, and made it craftable from regular ice.

Snowy Villages are like finding any other village, but notedly without Hay Bales, arguably making them Worse to the seasoned minecraft player than finding any other village, even if they look nice)

The only Real unique structure to snowy biomes is Igloos, which have an interesting mechanic with the secret basement (that only half of all igloos actually Have) showing the player how to cure zombie villagers. While interesting and good for new players, there's no reason for experienced players to bother exploring igloos when the best thing to find in them is a single Golden Apple. Igloos should've gotten a unique armor trim!

Ranking: A biome whos lack of interesting treasure or animals makes them not worth the firework rockets it takes to fly through them.

The Snowy Plains is an important biome. Or at least, should be. It's the Snow Biome! It should have unique things like the Desert has unique things.

Maybe add a unique animal to tundra villages, like a Yak or a Muskox or something, to encourage noobs and pros alike to farm in the winter wonderland. Add a unique armor trim to igloo basement chests for new players who spawn in the snow biome to find, as well as maybe some Suspicious Snow blocks around it. Maybe some new pottery sherds or, since whoever lived here liked to experiment so much with DNA, maybe they've been trying to bring back a long-extinct species like the Sniffer. Hell, add a Snow Temple the same way deserts & jungles have temples, with loot chests and traps and whatnot! Something to make flying through the snowfields as much of a rip-roaring treasure hunting expedition as flying through the sand dunes is.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Untitled Firefly/Serenity!AU pt 2

I dunno, have some more of Browncoat!Tommy and AllianceExperiment!Buck

Continued from this

For the curious, in my head the cast of characters (not going for exactly one-to-one character swaps, more like vibes) are:

Tommy/Mal, Buck/River, Maddie/Simon, Chim/Kaylee, Bobby/Shepherd Book, Athena/Zoe, Eddie/Jayne, Hen/Wash, Karen/Inara

I am now obviously planning to do more with this (fml), but still if anyone wants to play in the sandbox, feel free. It's a pretty shiny sandbox.

Protein blocks were good for exactly one thing and one thing only: making you not die of malnutrition. Food made from protein blocks (especially the brand that was in their budget) did not taste good. It did not have a pleasing texture. It did not smell appetizing. For a long time, sitting down to meals on Harbor served the singular purpose of allowing you to get up from the table no longer hungry.

And then Bobby Nash had joined the crew. 

Tommy was not a fool. The Shepherd, kind and steady as he was, knew entirely too much about Alliance security procedures and was entirely too good with weapons to have been a man of God all his life. There was a past there, and probably a darker story than Bobby wanted to admit. So far, though, that past had not come knocking on Harbor’s entry hatch, and he made Athena, Tommy’s second-in-command and one of the few people left he cared to claim as family, happier than Tommy had ever seen her. Tommy was willing to overlook a lot of potential problems if the Shepherd kept that easy smile on Athena’s face. Besides. 

The man was a fucking miracle worker in the galley. 

Tommy had no idea how Bobby managed to do the things he did with just some spices and a handful of pots and pans, but the things he dished up for Harbor’s crew was the best eating Tommy had had since he was still hiding behind his Mama’s skirts. 

He would overlook a lot of potential problems for how happy the Shepherd made Athena. 

He would strap on his sidepiece and go to fucking war against those problems for the man’s pancakes. 

He dished himself up a stack of three of said pancakes, fluffy and golden the way food made from protein blocks had no right to be, and turned to grab the jug of decidedly less tasty–but still better than it ought to be–synthetic syrup. 

Only to jump in surprise when he found Hen and Karen–his pilot and her esteemed wife–standing less than a foot away from him, matching looks of scrutiny and no small amount of suspicion on their faces. 

“So,” Hen said without preamble, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at him. “Where you going with this?” 

He glanced between the two women, suddenly feeling cornered on his own damn ship. “Uh, to the table. So I can eat it?”

Karen arched an eyebrow, regal as any queen in the scarlet and gold-trimmed dress of the Scholars’ Guild. He didn’t know Karen well…her work with the Guild took her all over the galaxy for months at a time, and it wouldn’t do for a woman of her rank in the Guild to be seen too often with a ship crewed by several people who were ‘wanted for questioning’ in a myriad of investigations. Now that their son Denny was safely enrolled in one of the Scholars’ Guild’s planetary academies, though, she was becoming a more frequent guest on Harbor. 

“We mean, where are you going with Buck?” she said bluntly. 

The ‘Buck’ thing was new. And a good sign, according to Bobby…that Evan felt comfortable enough around them to start expressing his preferences (in healthier ways than the sometimes-violent outbursts that had been the norm when he first came aboard) and explore his identity in new ways. Tommy would be lying, though, if he said he wasn’t secretly pleased when Evan told him he preferred it when Tommy called him by his given name. According to Evan, it was never ‘sharp’ when Tommy said it. 

“Oh. He’s not having any pancakes. The chemical structure interacts with the molecular bonds on the plates and makes them too crunchy apparently.” 

He shrugged in a what-can-you-do way, used to Evan’s random quirks about things on the ship. Last week he’d refused to drink the water out of the dispensers for three days because one of the new filters they’d bought on their last supply run made it taste like peach schnapps. No one else could taste it (to Tommy and Eddie’s disappointment) and Maddie insisted Evan had never had peach schnapps, but Evan had been adamant. 

Karen looked distinctly unimpressed. 

“Are we still talking about pancakes?” he asked innocently.

“We’re talking about your intentions,” Hen said, her voice grave and serious.

“Are they…honorable?” Karen added. 

“I’ve got a medal hanging up in my bunk,” he replied indignantly. 

“You stole that off that freight pilot that tried to stiff us on the Io run,” Athena said suddenly, appearing from the corridor and not even bothering to pretend she had not been eavesdropping as she made a beeline for the coffee pot. 

“Whose side are you on?” he snapped, before turning back to Hen and Karen. He found them just staring at him, clearly unwilling to get out of his way. He sighed. “We are taking it very slow. In fact, I’m letting him set the pace. And I’m just trying to keep up.”

Hen finally cracked a smile at that, and Tommy felt a little of the tension that had been creeping into his shoulders dissipate. He and Evan had not been obvious about…whatever it was they were doing. Talking, mostly, late into the night on nights when neither of them could sleep. But Harbor was not a large ship and his crew were some of the nosiest assholes he’d ever met. 

“Look, I get it. I’m being careful with him. But he’s a grown man, not a child. He knows his own mind. Weird as some of the shit that comes out of it can be.” His lips quirked into an amused smirk. “Besides, we all know Maddie’ll shoot me in the balls if she thinks I’m taking advantage.”

Hen and Karen exchanged a loaded look, but then Hen wound her arm around her wife’s waist. “Be careful with yourself, too. Buck doesn’t always realize he’s accelerating too fast. Captain.” 

With that, she and Karen stepped neatly around him, heading for the counter and the tray of pancakes. Tommy shook his head, before changing course and heading up the corridor that led to the helm, shoveling pancakes into his mouth as he went. The bridge was mostly quiet when he arrived, Eddie seated at Hen’s usual station, and Evan examining a set of readouts from the comms intently. 

“Okay, look, just because something is mathematically possible,” Eddie was saying as Tommy entered the bridge, “doesn’t mean it’s practical. How would you even get it into the hold?” 

Evan made a dismissive gesture. “Physics,” he said, like the answer to whatever they were arguing was obvious. To him, it probably was. Eddie snorted fondly. 

“Right. Physics. I’d pay money to see you try.”

Tommy stabbed the last of his breakfast with his fork. “Do I want to know what you’re planning to do with my ship?” he asked. Evan swiveled in his seat to look up at him with a wide, pleased smile that sent a shivery burst of warmth through Tommy’s chest. 

“Probably not,” Eddie said, standing up from the pilot’s station and stretching until his back cracked. “Bobby make pancakes?” 

Evan wrinkled his nose in disgust and then turned back to the readouts, muttering to himself in a way that Tommy had come to know meant there was an idea percolating in his head that was either genius, insanity, or some unholy combination of both. 

“If you hurry, you can probably snag some before Chim eats them all,” Tommy said, to which Eddie tipped him a mock salute.

“Better go. You’ll need your energy,” Evan said. 

“Right,” Eddie shrugged, holding out a hand for Tommy’s empty plate to take back to the galley, which Tommy handed over gratefully. He headed down the corridor Tommy had just exited, whistling to himself.

“Anything interesting on the comms?” Tommy asked, taking the pilot’s station Eddie had just vacated. 

Evan shook his head. “It’s already ghosts and echoes. But some of the voices are still real. We should help.” 

Tommy frowned. “Help? Help who?”

As if in answer, the comm station suddenly pinged, the whole console lighting up red with an urgent distress signal. 

[noctusfury]

Dragon Flyer Ranks (RTTE)

Hello, everyone. Welcome to another HTTYD/RTTE article. This is the final piece to my series about Dragon Flyer hierarchy and military structure (Dragon Skins, Elite, Hierarchy). In this post, I'll be sharing what I think the ranks would be had the Dragon Flyers been allowed to expand into a larger organization, similar to the Dragon Hunters.

As you know from the Hierarchy post, I believe that Flyers are ranked according to their dragon skins. Those wearing Zippleback skins are elites, those wearing gold dragon skins are veterans, those wearing Nightmare skins and Nadder wing skirts are juniors, and those wearing nothing but badly tanned dragon skins are rankers.

And as you know from the chart below, the hierarchy is as follows:

Krogan > Disciples (12 Best Warriors) > Regular Flyers > Recruits

The hierarchy and ranking system were originally rather simple and straightforward since the unit wasn't very large—it probably wasn't past 20 Flyers in the beginning.

However, if the organization becomes larger—for example, 50-100 Flyers—a more intricate ranking system will be needed.

Here is what I think the ranks could be. I even made some cool edits for this occasion. 😎

Krogan: Thunder Lord / Thunder Chieftain

The top-most rank is, naturally, Thunder Lord or Thunder Chieftain, which Krogan possesses as the head of the Dragon Flyers. It could be compared to a Headmaster of a Knight Order or a Group Leader of a Fighter Group in modern terms. Thunder Master could very well be another excellent coinage of this position.

As expected, this position oversees all Flyers and their squadrons and flight-pairs.

Thunder Captain / Flyer Leader

Thunder Captain, or just Flyer Leader, is the second-in-command of the Thunder Chieftain (or Krogan), just like our Flyer Leader above. His job is to carry out his orders, command the Chief's personal squadron, the "Deadly Dozen", and oversee any projects or missions entrusted by Krogan.

He also oversees the other Squadron/Flight Leaders under him. They choose someone for this rank from the Elite Flyers, particularly the "Deadly Dozen".

Thunder Master

Thunder Master is a rank similar to the medieval Master-at-Arms or the modern rank Sergeant Major. They directly receive orders from Krogan and are responsible for managing the briefings and mission assignments for the Flyers.

As such, they hold a higher position than even the squadron and flight leaders since they directly receive directions from Krogan to delegate mission assignments to certain units.

The Thunder Master is also responsible for the training of recruits before integrating them into the Dragon Flyer organization.

Flyers who gain these two ranks are often from the Master / Veteran Flyer ranks (Goldskins). What distinguishes them from the others is their orange dragon-skins and pauldrons.

Thunder Master's Wingman

Thunder Master's Wingman is the Thunder Master's subordinate and helps him with various administrative tasks and also helps train the recruits whenever the Thunder Master isn't around. In fact, this guy is mostly responsible for this responsibility as the organization gets bigger and Krogan and the other higher-ups don't have time for training them personally.

The Wingman takes over the Thunder Master's responsibilities if he is absent or is killed. He also, true to his rank, is the Thunder Master's wingman in battle and watches his back.

This rank also oversees other wingmen of lower ranks.

The Wingman is unique in that he wears his pauldron on his left shoulder instead of his right shoulder like the Second Claw Flyers.

Elite Flyers

Spots in Krogan's personal squadron, the "Deadly Dozen," are always guaranteed to Flyers of this rank. They are among the best of the best in the Dragon Flyers and also always assumed to promise a fierce fight to any who claim to be enemies of the Flyers and Krogan. Flyers of this rank are not only Krogan's most loyal warriors but are the most fanatic, viewing the total annihilation of dragons as the most righteous of causes.

This rank is further separated into three parts:

Elite Flyer, Third Claw

Elite Flyer Third Claw is the top-most rank in the Flyer Organization, aside from Flyer Leader and Thunder Chieftain. These Flyers are guarantees to the positions of Flyer Leader and Squadron and Flight Leaders, though other ranks can have these positions as well. They are also shoe-ins for the "Deadly Dozen" squadron.

They make up 20% of the Elite Flyers in this class.

Their Nightmare-skin skirt and two spiked pauldrons distinguish them from other ranks.

The Flyer Leader, Krogan's lieutenant, has this rank.

Elite Flyer, Second Claw

Elite Flyer Second Claw is the second-most senior rank in the organization. Unlike those of the Third Claw, these Flyers only have one spiked pauldron and nothing else that's distinguishable. (Take notice that from here on, all Flyers with the Second Claw rank will have one pauldron on their right shoulder, unlike the Thunder Master's Wingman, who wears it on his left shoulder.)

Flyers of this rank make up 10% of this class.

Elite Flyer, First Claw

Elite Flyer First Claw, the lowest rank of the Elite Flyers, is still above most and is the entry level of the Elite Flyer class. Unlike the previous two ranks, this Flyer rank has no distinguishing trappings aside from their Zippleback-skin tunic. 70% of Elite Flyers are of this rank.

Master / Veteran Flyers

Like the Elite Flyers, Flyers of this group are always guaranteed spots in Krogan's squadron and are often chosen as Squadron Leaders or Flight Leaders, usually the latter.

Similar to the Roman Centurion or NCO rank (1700-20XX), these Flyers form the backbone of the Dragon Flyers, making up about roughly 45% of the organization. The highest rank they can go is Thunder Master and Thunder Master's Wingman.

People of this rank, like Elite Flyers, are known for their loyalty to Krogan and their fanatical zeal and cruelty in wiping out the dragons.

These Flyers are unique in wearing yellow dragon skins, Gronkle-skin vambraces, and a helmet with only one horn instead of the usual three. They also lack a dragonskin kilt. They are known for wearing footprint-shaped markings on their faces and helmets.

Master Flyer, Third Claw

Master Flyer Third Claw is the top-most rank in this class. They always pick candidates for the Thunder Master position from this rank. And, if they're lucky, they can graduate to the Elite Flyer class.

Squadron Leaders can be chosen from among these Flyers.

The Flyers in this class can be distinguished by their pauldrons (or lack thereof). In this case, Third Claw Master Flyers wear two spiked pauldrons.

This rank makes up 10% of the Master Flyers in this class.

Master Flyer, Second Claw

Master Flyer Second Claw is the second-most rank in this class, making up 10% of Master Flyers in this class. Like other Second Claws, this rank also wears one spiked pauldron on their right shoulder.

Members of this rank are eligible to attain the Thunder Master or Thunder Master Wingman positions.

Master Flyer, First Claw

Master Flyer First Claw is the lowest rank of this class, but the most common, making up 80% of the Master Flyers in this class. They often make up the Flight Leaders and Senior Flyers of pair-units.

Junior / Senior Flyers

The lowest among the ranks and classes in the Dragon Flyer organization, their crudely tanned dragon skin clothes and white war paint sets them apart from the others.

These Flyers also make up the ranks of the wingman positions in wing and flight units.

Junior Flyer, Third Claw / Senior Flyers

Junior Flyer Third Claw, also known as Senior Flyer, is a rare rank, only making up 3% of the Flyers in this class. They are also the most senior and experienced Flyers making up this class. As a result, they quickly join the Master Flyer classes not long after they get this rank.

Their rank is shown by wearing two pauldrons, a Nadder-wing kilt, and two Monstrous Nightmare-skin vambraces.

Junior Flyer, Second Claw

Junior Flyer Second Claw is the second highest rank in this class and the most common rank, making up 57% of the Junior Flyers in this class.

They often fill wingman positions in wing (two-Flyer) and flight (four-Flyer) units.

What marks their rank is one spiked pauldron on their right shoulder, like all Second Claws. They also wear a Nadder-wing kilt, slightly better quality Nightmare-skin tunics, and one Nightmare-skin vambrace.

Junior Flyer, First Claw / Fledglings

Junior Flyer First Claw, also known as a "Fledgling," is the lowest of both rank and class in the thunder, second only to Recruit. They make up 40% of all Junior Flyers in this class.

They are the least experienced, trained, and indoctrinated out of all the Flyers, causing them to be the first to panic or flee if something doesn't go their way; they wear nothing of distinction and lack any accomplishments or battle honors, wearing dragon skins of mediocre quality. The best of this rank can eventually earn themselves a Nightmare-skin vambrace.

The Bottom-Feeders

Recruits, often demeaningly called "Stubs" (wingless dragons incapable of flight), are the lowest and bottom-most rank of all Flyers in the thunderband.

The organization integrates these recruits into their ranks, who are fresh and ready for training and indoctrination. They get trained by the Thunder Master and his Wingman in the ways of the Dragon Flyer and help them learn to fly their Singetail companions without issue. If they're unavailable, then either an Elite Flyer or Master Flyer comes to train them.

They are given low-quality dragon skins and gear.

We can summarize the ranks and hierarchy of the Dragon Flyers like this:

The positions can be further summarized with the highest position on the left and the lowest on the right:

Thunder Chieftain (Krogan) > Flyer Leader / Thunder Captains > The Deadly Dozen > Thunder Lieutenants >Thunder Master > Thunder Master's Wingman > Squadron Captains > Flight Captains > Wing Leaders / Senior Flyers > Regular Flyers > Recruits.

<><><><><>

Conclusion

These are the ranks that I believe might and could exist if the Dragon Flyers had been allowed to expand their organization further.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this what-if article. Have a wonderful Wednesday.

Long Live the Night!

— Noctus Fury

[t4ct1c4l-fluk3]

"Well, yeah I suppose that's reasonable. Still, circumstances can suck and people are allowed to be upset about it. I'm talking you with the CEO thing and also like...everyone that was close to me with my disappearing act."

He waved a hand before dropping it

"Neurotic Nightmare would be a great band name, by the way."

He then got to work drying his hair off. Best he did this part himself, or there might end up being some structural damage to the place. Not on purpose.

Heeyyy, buddy, pal, friend, uh. Mind if I swing by? I kinda need to like. Dye my hair back and I don't wanna do that unsupervised or supervised by someone who might get surprised or upset if shit starts breaking again or dislocating.

@t4ct1c4l-fluk3

absolutely bestie. you know i'm a hair care girlie.

[somethingnurseywoulddo]

Cicadas are singing their song in the near distance, an orchestra of thousands surrounding Will-- a singular. The porch is slightly damp from August's evening rain, humidity capturing water into the wood even hours later. None of that bothers him. He's lost in the lights high above him in the night sky, or maybe he's just lost in his own head. It's a differentiation he hasn't been able to make yet.

It's almost torture when he sits out on this porch. No one but him and the crescent moon, nothing besides the condensation of his beer in his hand. Almost as if Will was back in Maine sitting on the porch of his childhood home. Back then, he wasn't out there alone on purpose. Nothing in that small town fit his big emotions so he'd take his heart and spill it out to the stars in order to keep himself in check. He would allow the midnight blue to see his honest self, anyone else would judge his character except for the universe. Better to cling to shooting stars than gamble trusting his secrets to a potential knife in the back.

Except he shouldn't be on the Haus porch projecting childhood. He could very easily ask to devour a homemade pie or study on that god-awful couch or listen to his blades across empty ice. Yet Will finds a yearning in his heart for a familiar loneliness because sometimes that's easier than riding a bike. Pie and studying and even empty ice require questions and people. Improvement in trusting others only goes so far. Sometimes he needs to flashback four years to feel something so entirely known in order to process his current unknown.

This whole situation with Nursey is blooming across his chest. Maybe he's outside--nostalgic--because he can rely on a younger version of himself. He can only rely on those feelings dusted across the night sky all those years ago. He can only hope he finds them as he searches constellations. He can only hope that this ratty porch in Massachusetts can get him close enough to the Maine stars which hold his secrets. The very secrets he's hoping will answer a question of fear from childhood and light a new path.

Will flicks the condensation off of his hands before wiping them on his already-damp jeans. Maybe more than the stars heard his questions tonight. Maybe the cicadas singing were also listening. Maybe they can change past loneliness and provide today's support. He doesn't know why he feels poetic or nostalgic on this random summer evening, but he knows a little peace has found him.

[knifearo]

being aromantic is like. hey btw you're going to live a life that is the culmination of most of society's worst nightmares. sorry lol ✌️ but then you turn around and take a really good hard look at it and it turns out that living in that nightmare is fucking awesome and you get to wake up every day and take that fear that other people have and laugh and hold it close until it's a great joy for you instead. and being happy is a radical act that you define instead of someone else. and you're sexy as fuck that's just a fact of life i don't make the rules on that one

[the---hermit]

how I take notes on non fiction books

I recently made a post on my study method, and decided to make a whole separate post on my note taking method. The structure of the notes I write doesn't vary too much from my lecture notes to things I might have to read. A couple of useful informations you might want to know before I start actually talking about note writing is that I am mainly focused on studying history (tho I have had other humanities exams in my degrees), and that I study for oral exams in which the material is mainly composed of non fiction books, but sometimes include articles as well as lecture notes. Somehow I have also failed to mention that I am speaking about HANDWRITTEN NOTES. I only do handwritten notes, I don't work well digitally, so keep that in mind. And with this being said brace yourselves for a very long post. The bullet points I will be making are not really in a specific order and I will be including a few pictures too.

The first step when I am working on the materials for an exam is to figure out in which order I will be reading (and writing notes) the books. This hasn't really much to do with the notes themselves, but it's important to know which of your materials is more general and what other things go more in depth, so that you don't struggle too much while studying. Another plan related thing I always do is to write down each chapter of the book I have to study on my bullet journal and how many pages it is so I can plan my studying more comfortably. If the chapters are very long, and divided in subchapters I sometimes also write those down.

The goal of the notes I write is to fully take the place of the book, so they tend to be very detailed and long. I do this because the very act of writing is part of my study method, and working on things I have written down in my own words is just much better for the type of learner I am. So basically I read the book only once, then it goes back on the shelf and I work exclusively on the notes. This means my notes need to be detailed and well organized.

My method is to read a chapter, underlining important stuff as I am reading, and then right after I am done reading I work on the notes for that chapter before moving onto the next. I do this because it makes the note writing more effortless, I am fresh with informations I just read and I basically just need to skim over what I have underlined.

On underlining, since it is so important. I underline everything I will be including in my notes, it might seem much as sometimes it consists of full paragraphs, instead of key words. But this is okay because my notes I don't just copy and paste.

To create useful notes you need to be re-elaborating the informations. You need to read, understand what you read, and be able to write it down using your own words. That way the notes will be easier to review, they will often be composed of shorter sentences, and by doing so you are also actively making writing part of your studying and not just a mindless activity.

Personally I don't work well with full pages summaries, I need the text to be visually broken into sentences/small paragraphs, and I use a lot of symbols as well as abbreviations.

Symbols and abbreviations are in a way part of your very own language when you are writing notes, you tend to develop these with time, but they are so useful. I personally use different types of arrows, all caps words, position of the text in the page, different methods of highlighting and abbreviations (usually for words that come up often like country names, for example Italy becomes ita, France becomes fr, etc.).

Your notes need to be useful for you, they don't have to necessarily be comprehensible for another person (which means you can and will fuck up sentence structure because sometimes skipping a couple of words makes the notes shorter and still understandable), and they do not have to be pretty. They should be as tidy as possible, but again that might change from person to person, I have some very messy looking notes that make total sense to me. With time you'll learn what works best for you.

I have a visual memory so as I mentioned titles, highlighters, all caps, the placement on the page and other similar things are very important in my notes. I cannot fully exapain some of these things because some definitely only make sense to me in the moment (like the words I choose to write in all caps, or the way I highlight things).

I like to have a clear chapter and subchapter break (so that in case I need to refer back to the book it's super effortless). I like to write those with a red pen, usually the chapter title is in all caps and the subchapter in coursive, but it really depends.

I use only two highlighters in each set of notes yellow for dates, and the colour I associate with the book/the subject of the book (I have synesthesia I don't make the rules when it comes to colours). This of course might change depending your preferences and on the element of your notes you want to focus on. I like to have spacific colour for dates and time periods, because of course while studying history that is a fundamental element. If you are focusing on other subjects you might want to have a specific colour for names, or other elements.

I like to leave a big side margin to add either key words (especially in lecture notes since they might be messier and jump around informations more often), or additional information in a second time (sometimes it happens, after you read another book, or attended a particular lecture you have to add a couple of sentences and I rather have a blank space that never gets used rather than no space at all for emergencies).

I honestly mentioned everything that came to mind right away, but since note writing is now basically a mindless skill I have been practicing for years I surely forgot about something. I might end up adding to this post in the future or write another one. My note-writing method has also changed a lot thought the years from high school to university, it's a skill I have been perfecting for the past decade. This to say that depending on what you are working on things might change, and by experimenting with different things you might find out things that work very well for you. If you have any questions on specific things I didn't mention or that wen't clear my inbox is always open and I am more than happy to help.

Since this post is already very very long I am adding the pictures below the cut

Example of a page of notes before and after highlighting

Example of symbols and structure of the notes and the way I highlight things (in which you'll hopefully be able to understand my handwriting, and in which there might be some spelling errors but alas that often happens in my real notes as well so if there are any it's for the sake of accuracy lmao). If I end up adding informations on the margins I always use a pen of a different color so I can tell which informations I got from what source (ex. main notes from lecture, colorful notes from additional article).

Example of messier notes in which the main text in black are the notes I took during lectures and the additional colorful text was added while writing the materials (I rarely do this, it usually happens when the lectures follow a book precisely, which happens when we have to study books or summaries written by the professor). As you can see I often use post it notes to add more writing space, and sometime I even use them to create visually separated sections. If I end up adding some drawings I also usually like to have them on post it notes so they stand out more (and if you are wondering why the hell would an history student need drawings it's usually either because I need a map or a region/state to mark things out, or when studying for archaeology exams I often needed visual references, for example to identify different types of vases or decorations).

[virfujiwara]

Any The Book Of Life (2014) enjoyers here? Ramble in the tags lol Reminder that commissions are open and I'm making art for your donations and we are raising money for an AAPI charity through this zine, if you or someone you know likes Watcher, check it out!

[aithusarosekiller]

Why do people act like smart Barty and cool Barty have to be one or the other

Can he not be both?

Are you not allowed to be alt and clever?

Do my hair dye, sense of style, and facial piercings cancel out my A* grades? Nobody warned me of this

Give me barty who sits for hours on end with Dorcas making his own punk clothes and shouting about hating the ministry then showing up to class with his green streaks of hair and gauged ears and getting 99% on everything without listening to a word of what was said

Give me the barty everyone is intimidated by in the corridors just sitting silently in the library chewing his quill and researching a brand new incantation

Counter-culture doesn't mean stupid 🙏

He's me and I am him

[montydragon]

Been trying to figure out Zora skeletal anatomy