#tossing an idea into the mix because I actually love this art no joke

[reaper-bloodmoon]

Monty would be Glam Bonnie and Glam Chica's angsty teenage son from their divorce(these two bitches be 🌟bisexual🌟) but they remain on good terms. Though Bon thinks Chi's too good for Roxy and that's why him and Roxy get at each other's necks.

Also Monty would be bouncing between both households because Glam Bon and Glam Chi settled on 50/50 custody.

wlw vs mlm (from that one ep of modern family LOL)

[otonymous]

“The Most Beautiful Girl In The World”: The Guys As Fathers (MLQC Headcanon)

Hi dear Nonny!

What a wonderful idea!  We could all use a bit of fluff every now and then 🤣 I hope you’re doing well too!  Sending you much love along with these headcanons!  Hope you enjoy the read! 🥰💖 

Victor:

Daddy’s little princess - this little girl is the CEO of Victor’s heart

She is also the unofficial CEO of LFG: Victor loves to bring her to work with him every now and then, and all the office staff go absolutely ga-ga over her

Goldman.  Is.  Smitten. (Especially since she has a way of softening Victor’s hard as nails exterior)

Victor likes to front like he’s strict, but he’s not fooling anybody.  Just one look at the tenderness in his eyes when he’s looking at his daughter would tell you who’s really the boss

Psst!  He loves to spoil her!

And by spoiling, we don’t mean that she gets whatever she wants, all the time (although daddy’s heart DOES thrill a little inside to see her all bubbly with happiness after he presents her with a gift) — Victor will also ensure that he carves out time from work to spend with his family (there will definitely be a shift in work-life balance)

He won’t let her get away with everything though!  The man will still insist that she be on her best behaviour when necessary, but he is a lot more lax than you would’ve expected from him

Family time would consist of: horseback riding lessons, teddy bear picnics and tea parties (best believe she will be sending an actual invitation in the mail to Mr. Mills) — you will absolutely melt the first time you see Victor perched uncomfortably in a tiny chair, holding a mini plastic teacup to his lips and asking a stuffed cat if it would like another scone

She LOVES to be Victor’s sous-chef in the kitchen, and when she gets a bit older, she’ll also become daddy’s jogging buddy

Victor will always, always read her a bedtime story, even when he’s away from home on business, even if it means interrupting a meeting (Victor will establish a new norm; his peers will come to respect his family values)

The absolute apple of the eye of Victor’s father and aunt: this munchkin can do no wrong.  If she is to be spoiled rotten by anyone, it would be by these two.  

Every time you go over to their place for dinner, it’s pretty much guaranteed that you’ll be leaving with a trunkful of new toys

This little girl would be a good mix of her mother and father: she’ll inherit her father’s jet black hair, but the intensity of her eyes will be softened by your genes

In spite of all this generosity, your little girl will grow up to be far from spoiled

She will be incredibly compassionate, and will go from donating her many, many books and toys to other less fortunate kids as a child to organizing charity functions, etc., as a young adult.  

Victor couldn’t be more proud.

Lucien:

The shift is seismic the very first time Lucien holds his newborn daughter in his arms

“She looks just like you,” he whispers to no one in particular, careful not to wake you as you get one night of precious sleep immediately postpartum before your nights become interrupted by endless wake-feed-soothing back to bed cycles

Lucien doesn’t sleep that first night in the hospital; he spends it cradling your daughter by the light of the moon seeping in through the thin slats of the blinds

The cool rays illuminate every single feature that Lucien sets his mind on memorizing: her eyes — still a little bit swollen, the flare of those tiny nostrils, the sharply defined cupid’s bow of the most perfectly shaped lips

He is putting his face to the downy soft hairs on the crown of her head, nose pressing to cheek to inhale the scent of his newborn daughter

A tiny seed of anxiety begins to sprout from deep within Lucien to know that he will never have this moment again with her, and it feels like time is already slipping from the tight grasp of his hand

But then suddenly, she opens her big, bright eyes.  Quietly, she stares at her daddy, her irises the same colour as the ones drowning in her gaze, and the nervous clench in Lucien’s gut dissolves

And when she opens and closes her mouth in a soundless gape as if to say that everything will be okay, Lucien knows he would give his life in a heartbeat to protect hers

This little girl is wise beyond her years, and will often say things that surprise the adults around her; family friends will refer to her as an “old soul”

She is far from a little chatterbox, preferring instead to listen and observe those around her, her big, bright eyes patiently taking in every detail

Initially, you’ll be concerned that she isn’t speaking as much as other children her age.  Lucien will take his time reassuring you, an almost knowing smile on his lips.

When she does finally speak, she blows everyone away with the relative complexities of her sentence structures

Little genius: your daughter shares her father’s intelligence and can often be found snuggling up under her favourite camphor tree, books and sketching pencils in hand

She loves flying kites with her mommy and daddy

Quiet but kind, she’ll have no shortage of friends and admirers

You might be surprised, but she also has a wicked sense of humour.  Enjoys delivering jokes with the cutest wink in the world.

Her favourite place in the world is daddy’s laboratory.  The noisy whirs of those big, fancy machines make her jump for joy and Lucien cannot help but smile

There are times — especially when you guys are at your happiest as a family — that Lucien has to fight back the anxiety that all this could be taken away from him.  The melancholic tinge in his smile is so slight that even you could miss it at times.  But your daughter will always catch it.  And when she does, she’ll slip her tiny hand within her father’s much larger palm, look up and give him the biggest smile she can muster.  It’ll always bring him back to the moment.

Little though she is, she gives him strength beyond compare

And on the day of her graduation from university at the top of her class, she’ll be given a priceless gift from her parents: a silver pen named Iridescent.

Gavin:

Usually so calm, cool and collected in even the most stressful of situations, Gavin is a nervous wreck when you go into labour

He is pacing back and forth and back and forth in the hospital room.  You almost want to send him on an errand to get some popular street eats with a guaranteed long line up just so he can calm TF down and not get in the nurses’ way

He is offering you ice chips before you even ask for it, patting at your forehead with a facecloth even though you’re not sweating, giving you his hand to hold every two minutes even though you haven’t started pushing yet

When you mention that he should probably try to calm down since you likely have at least another hour to go before your cervix is fully dilated, he nods in agreement and starts doing push-ups and sit-ups on the floor

The battery of Gavin’s phone dies from all of Minor’s messages asking if the baby has arrived yet

Birdcop is fit to burst from all the joy his body just simply cannot contain the moment his little girl arrives

Because now he has not just one, but TWO of you!

Your daughter will be the splitting image of you, except for her striking amber eyes

The names she gives her stuffed animals will be strangely familiar: Fluffy, Softy, Pearly Jr., etc. (you’ll have to ask her whether daddy helped with the naming 🤣).

Minor’s enthusiasm cannot be dampened: he is over so often with food, diapers and offers to do the housework that you basically have to make him your child’s godparent LOL

Gavin is a giant teddy bear when it comes to your daughter: he cannot say no to her and lives to see her smile

She is gifted with her father’s athleticism, and Gavin won’t hesitate to personally instruct her on the art of self-defence starting at a very young age (needless to say, any future suitors will be given very intense once-overs by Gavin, even little boys at the playground; you can never let your guard down)

Eli is on Gavin’s watch list the moment G-man overhears her shyly asking you about “daddy’s handsome coworker” the year she turned 8

Yes, she will also be getting a bracelet with a GPS tracker LOLOL

She is incredibly strong: could probably toss Minor around like a burlap sack by the time she’s 12

This little girl is all about the thrills, screaming, “Go higher, daddy!  Higher!” in Gavin’s ear as he flies with her on his shoulders

He will take her to the BEST places for stargazing at night (when she’s old enough to stay up) — best believe this is something G-man will lament the loss of when she’s all grown up

Yes, the motorcycle will be her ride of choice the moment she gets her licence (much to her parents’ chagrin)

Gavin cannot help but tear up every time he watches her play the piano, especially if she plays with her mother at the same time

Psst!  He has a photo in his study of the two of you sitting next to each other on the piano bench, the late afternoon sun streaming in through big, French windows, dappled by leaves falling from the ginkgo tree planted in the backyard

He only wishes his mother could’ve been there to see his beautiful baby girl

Kiro:

This little star charms absolutely everyone at first sight: the doctors and nurses that help deliver her are completely enamoured with this little bundle of joy

Tears are streaming from Kiro’s bright blue eyes the moment she is placed into his arms for the first time; he’ll bend over to give you the biggest kiss while gently cradling the baby, the salt of your tears mixing together

This little girl has the best laugh: clear and bright and like music to the ears of anyone lucky enough to hear it.

And she laughs often — daddy is hell-bent on filling her childhood with love and joy and will do anything to make her smile

You’ll often see Kiro crawling around the house on hands and knees, your daughter shrieking with laughter as she tugs on his golden hair, yelling “Giddy-up!” over and over again

Genetics aside, let’s just pretend that her hair is long and golden like her father’s.  At times, she literally looks like a doll come to life, especially with those azure eyes

Budding superstar: this girl has inherited her father’s talents when it comes to acting and music.  She is hitting those high notes, projecting that beautiful voice and basically hamming it up all the time just to get a laugh from her adoring family.

Kiro will “complain” about double standards because Savin will always have a tasty treat for her whenever he sees her, saying “Make sure your daddy doesn’t get any, okay?” LOL

At the same time, Kiro decides to (gasp!) cut down on his junk food habit when his daughter is born.  He actually already started out of solidarity during your pregnancy, and wants to be healthy so he can have as much time as possible with his beloved family

Kiro also cuts back on his workload when his little girl arrives.  This daddy is super involved in all aspects of taking care of his baby and his wife.  You’ll never hear him complain about having to change a dirty diaper.  In fact, he even does it better than you do — no leakages here! LOL

Kiro LOVES to dress his daughter up and will often wear matching outfits with her.  Baby and daddy denim overalls?  Check.  Father-daughter couture?  Check.  

Baby globetrotter: you guys will tag along with Kiro when he flies overseas to shoot on location.  Kiro loves having you and the baby near.

When she gets a bit older, you can bet that they’ll be the best gaming buddies (you’ll insist on her having completed her homework first, but Kiro will secretly let her play one game before she starts - “just don’t tell your mom, or else we’ll both be in trouble!”)

Charming and bright, your daughter is also a bit of a tech wiz.  Learns to code at a very young age under her father’s tutelage, and enjoys building computers from scratch as a hobby.

This little girl carries joy with her wherever she goes, spreading it around like warm sunshine

Shaw:

Shaw is soft, soft, soft the moment he becomes a father

He could be blasé about everything else, but not when it comes to his daughter, the absolute treasure of his heart along with his wife

There will be times that you wake up in the middle of the night and find his side of the bed empty.  You’ll hear his footsteps, softly pacing back and forth before a large window as he tries to sooth your infant daughter back to sleep.  Shaw will look like he literally stepped out of a ‘90s Calvin Klein ad campaign, topless and clad only in low slung pyjama bottoms as he cradles your daughter in his arms, the muscles of his biceps bulging in the pale moonlight that casts a silvery glow on his lavender hair.

(Example of a Calvin Klein ad from the 1990s)

Guess your thirst will have to wait till your daughter falls asleep again to be slaked LOL

This little girl will have her father’s amber eyes as well as the fine features of his face — she will slay all the kids in school with her beauty

Loves to snark her dad but is all sweetness to you (Psst! Shaw (not-so) secretly loves it!)

A fast-talker and quick-witted: sometimes, you think you can actually hear her mind working

Absolutely loves her daddy’s skateboard and would much rather learn new tricks on her own board than play with more age-appropriate toys

She is also a bit of a bookworm: loves to read and is often surprising you with new topics of interest, everything from ancient civilizations to meteorology

Your little girl will often snuggle up to him and ask him what he is reading.  Shaw will then proceed to read to her, even if it’s a paper or a textbook.  Her quick mind has been able to grasp even abstract concepts from a very young age.  She’s a bit of a genius in that respect.

Inherits her dad’s love of music.  The two of them will enjoy rocking out in the basement the moment she is big enough to properly hold an electric guitar (with you sneaking peeks every 5 minutes to make sure she’s still got her protective headphones on LOL)

She’ll take after her dad in that she’ll seem uncomfortable with the concept of authority starting at a very young age.  She questions nearly everything and will drive many of her teachers up the wall, although they will also recognize the extent of her incredible intellect.  She’ll set herself apart at school as a leader, having also the charisma to charm those who would wish to follow

Her dad, of course, is absolutely ecstatic to have a daughter capable of thinking for herself instead of blindly following others (and you will be too!)

🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣

Thanks so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚 

(Please do not copy/alter/edit/repost my work - thanks!)

[m-feys]

OK NEURODIVERGENT GAANG TIME BC I WANNA

these hcs are kinda halfway set in a modern au bc thats my context for this ! (gonna split it up so its not as long bc i drafted the original and it was LONG) water tribe siblings first !!!

Sokka

adhd/autism king 😌

[ID: a screenshot of Sokka standing on a raised stone platform with a map of the Fire nation hanging behind him. He’s holding his arms stiffly by his side with a wide-eyed look on his face, brows raised as he has his mouth open, saying something. End ID.]

- schedules to survive, he likes to know what hes getting into and if you try to change plans on him without warning he’ll be very resistant

- smart kid who doesnt study, oh he tries, oh boy does he try, he ends up reading the same sentence over and over until he gets distracted by drawing something, working on the blueprint for his latest invention, or with researching something completely unrelated to what he’s mean to be studying. then he tosses and turns all night because he’s stressed by not having studied, but when he actually takes the test he makes a 105, despite there not even being a bonus question, he just answered the essay question so well the teacher gave him an extra 5 points

- special interests?? we got em!!! classic weaponry (think swords, boomerangs, but also, like canons and catapults and shit) engineering/physics, art/drawing, strategy games. he tends to hyperfocus within his special interests, so like for a week he was hellbent on building his own full sized trebuchet, much to the dismay of Gran Gran who just wanted to grow her tomatoes without them being crushed by said full size trebuchet

- (also he plays all types of games probably, but he def plays those ones where you take over the world, like the ones online and azula also plays them too and they end up being rivals, while not actually knowing who the other is outside of their usernames)

- he also talks a lot in his classes/is like the ‘class clown’ and ppl think this is him not focusing but engaging this way actually helps him focus way more than sitting silently, a lot of teachers dont understand it but the ones who do are actually paying attention and realize that he’s generally talking/joking about their current topic

- some observations (this shit is all canon babey!!!) - sokka is great at being a leader and communicating in groups he’s in but he really really struggles in front of crowds, one-on-one and sokka can talk well, joke and stuff but as soon as he’s separate from other people and everyone is just listening he clams up (solar eclipse pt 1). he also loves to joke and make people laugh, and a lot of the time he misinterprets stuff because he’s autistic but he also will realize this and do it anyway because he thinks it’s funny and he likes laughing with his friends (idk if this happens in canon but i do this and sokka does too bc i said so :^). He also takes up the protector/comforting role but despite his best intentions he can sometimes say insensitive stuff and not even realize what he’s done to upset people (when he happily told aang ‘the whole world thinks your dead!’) works best when he feels needed, if he feels unnecessary or like something doesnt matter he struggles to complete it (i feel like the beginning of sokka’s master rlly demonstrates what i mean here), and this goes both ways, he will put too much value into certain things that he cares about and can get his priorities mixed if he’s focused too much on what he believes matters more than what might be most pressing (zuko destroyed his suki sculpture, oh right bc he was attacking aang)

Katara

she also has adhd/autism, (so do both Hakoda and Kya 💙)

[ID: a screenshot of Katara, Hakoda, Sokka, and Bato. Hakoda has his hand on Katara’s shoulder as they both look at Bato who is saying something, she has curious look on her face with her brows raised, while Hakoda looks exasperated. Sokka beside him his also looking curiously up at Bato, with one brow raised and the other furrowed. Bato has a neutral expression on his face as he speaks. End ID.]

- palms sweaty thoughts spaghetti, she tries to be practical bc she thinks someone needs to be but really her brain is like a runaway train, she sees something that needs doing and is like, guess ill do that now! and drops whatever she was doing first. she can get very anxious because of this because all the thing that need doing start to pile up because theyre all in her brain at once. that and as much as she tries to be practical she’s very impulsive, getting help from other people really helps alleviate this stuff

- interacting w ppl, when she was only part of her own smaller community she had a lot less toll on her, bc she knew everyone and was used to them, as she meets more people she gets really frustrated with how many people seem to refuse to say what they really mean. Katara is very straightforward herself and she says what she means, so even tho she gets more and more perceptive when interacting with new people, she resents how much she has to work just to decipher what people really mean half the time.

- caring for ppl, with people she cares about communicating is much easier bc she knows them, so she’s very open about her feelings around these people, and she can be hyper empathetic at times, but then sometimes she will say SUPER insensitive stuff off the cuff because she’s just very impulsive and she might regret it after the fact but she really struggles with apologizing because being wrong makes her feel like ppl are going to reject her

- perceptions, she knows what’s expected of her by the world, but she really rejects the idea that she has to stay in her role. still, she has internalized a lot of these expectations and tries to perform them, even when she sometimes struggles. beyond herself, she’s very certain about what she knows is wrong and has a strong moral code, she sees something wrong and she wants to fix it.

- she’s awful in school, not because she’s not smart, but she’s smart in ways that society does not appreciate. she doesnt care at all about all the worksheets and math she’s never gonna use, and all the history that got distorted, she’s much better at learning stuff on her own and she will go on deep dives of subjects she cares about and is super knowledgeable abt them.

also:

[ID: A cropped screenshot of Sokka with his arms extended outwards, palms flat as he gestures. He has a slight grin on his face with his mouth open to speak, eyebrows raised and looking at the viewer calmly. He’s wearing his usual blue tunic with the Earth Rumble XI belt along with his earth kingdom bag hanging across his chest. The text on the image says, “This post made by ADHD Sokka gang. End ID.]

[ID: a cropped screenshot of Hakoda, he has a serious expression on his face as he looks ahead. The text on the post reads, “This post made by ADHD Hakoda gang.” End ID.]

from this post (part of what inspired me to write these out) @meteor-sword​ now just katara needs one 😄

adhd aang next, i will finally live up to my url (will edit with a link when i post)

[bladeoffairness]

Don't think I can do all of these, but I guess I'll try.

Clip studio paint. My free trial expired and I'm tired of making new emails.

Facing to the right. It's just how I learned, I guess.

Corner suns =) I know it's considered lazy, but it does remind me of when I was younger.

I cannot draw vehicles AT ALL. Never ask me to draw a car, I might punch you.

I post maybe 20% online in various corners of the web. The rest is doomed to be forgotten on my hard drive.

Undertale and The Owl House. Somehow every character design looks like something from one of those.

Painting. I don't particularly enjoy doing it myself, but I'm REALLY impressed with how people can mix colors.

I wanted to make a video game. Other projects, school, lack of time, and the learning curve killed that idea pretty quickly though.

A mess of abbreviations and "V1", "V2", "V3", etc.

Hoodies and scarves are really fun. Actually- just anything that can flow in the wind. It looks dramatic!

Sometimes I listen to video essays about literally anything, other times it's my cartoonishly long playlist of Undertale remixes.

Arms, surprisingly enough. Not hands though.

I feel really bad that I forgot their name, but it was someone doing really impressive graffiti in London.

There was an old striped shirt I had that I wore all time, and I like to occasionally toss the patern into art as like a kind of signature. Could be a flag, or spray-painted on a wall, or in a reflection, or somewhere else in the background.

My room, or on my school laptop. I'd rather not share a picture.

Drawing an object in front of me.

I drink mostly water, and eat whatever.

Not broken, but kids at school love stealing my pens.

Landscapes, specifically skies. I'm a sucker for cool sunsets.

Also sunsets. I don't really have much of a baseline besides the kids in my art class though, and that class is such a mess I wouldn't be surprised if I found an incident from it in a 5000 word AITA post of Reddit.

Not sure what it's called, but it's where you draw the same picture multiple times and slap it into a GIF to make it look like your lines are shaking slightly.

I like to stretch my wrists a little to avoid my inevitable carpal tunnel.

YES.

Sometimes if I'm trying to see what a particular sky looks like.

Furry art. I'm still confused about that one.

I was drawing someone stargazing, and some kid peering over my shoulder thought I was drawing a dead body and tried getting me in trouble with the teacher. Jokes on him, I'm the teacher's favorite.

Not really.

I'm far too self-conscious to submit my art to anything.

That's a tricky one, because I usually walk away from good media feeling inspired to go make something. I guess maybe sitcoms or something? I don't remember the last time I've seen one though.

I have to admit, I'm still kinda proud of my Avery Reference from a while back. I don't normally do pixel art at that high of a resolution, so in my opinion it turned out well, all things considered.

Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game

Didn't see a lot of artist ask games, wanted to make a silly one.

(I wrote this while sick out of my mind last year and it's been collecting dust in my drafts, I might as well let it run free) 1. Art programs you have but don't use

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

3. What ideas come from when you were little

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

9. What are your file name conventions

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

12. Easiest part of body to draw

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

14. Any favorite motifs

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

23. Do you use different layer modes

24. Do your references include stock images

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

[vannahfanfics]

The Sacred Art of Hamburger-Making

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Momo Yaoyorozu, Denki Kaminari, & Hanta Sero

Hey, hey, everybody! This is the second story I wrote for @cuizineco​’s Heroes in the Baking zine, which is free to download!

Momo hummed under her breath as she filed her nails, sitting between Hanta and Denki on the common room sofa. The air was filled with clacking and clicking as the two boys feverishly jabbed the buttons and spun the joysticks on their controllers; both of their eyes were fixed on the martial arts video game they were embroiled in. Momo enjoyed the rare instances where they came down to the common room to play; she found something about their competitive energy so invigorating, especially after a hard day’s training. 

Just as she had finished buffing her shiny, neatly-trimmed nails, a deep voice boomed from the television to announce with dramatic fervor, “Fatality!” while thick red blood splattered the word across the screen. Hanta jumped up from the couch with a triumphant crow, nearly flinging the controller as he flung his hands into the air, while the defeated Denki melted into the couch cushions with a groan. 

“Don’t worry, Denki. You’ll beat him next time,” Momo encouraged with a sweet smile. 

“No, he won’t, because he’s a loserrrrr!” Hanta teased while making an L-shape on his forehead with his fingers. Denki stuck out his tongue angrily to his friend before humming thoughtfully. 

“Man, we’ve been playing for hours. I’m starving… You know what I could go for right now? A big, greasy, cheesy, American-style hamburger,” he sighed dreamily, salivating at the words alone. Momo perked up, her interest piqued. 

“Oh, I’ve never had a hamburger before.” 

If they were on a comedy show, one would have heard a record scratch. Denki’s head whipped around to stare at her with owlish eyes for a second before he chuckled magnanimously and slipped his arm around her slim shoulders, his expression melting into one a mixture of pity and mischievousness. 

“Momo. Dear. Honey. You’ve never had a hamburger?” the blond asked in a polite but disbelieving voice. Unsure what all the fuss was about, Momo slowly shook her head. 

“Now that’s what I call a got-damn tragedy,” Hanta observed before shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth. As he munched on the barbecue-flavored crisps, crumbs and powder raining from his lips down onto his tee-shirt, he looked at Denki pointedly. “We have to amend that, don’t we, Denks?” 

“We most certainly do,” the blond nodded sagely, pinching his chin and closing his eyes like the picture of a pensive philosopher. “We cannot allow Momo here, our dear friend, our beloved classmate and light of our bleak lives, to remain in such a sorry state. So… To the kitchen!” he announced and jumped up, pointing a finger into the air. “By our hand, we will allow Momo to suffer no longer!” 

Are hamburgers really that good? Momo wondered as she followed the two boys to the adjoining kitchen. They probably weren’t, but watching the two tear through the cabinets and refrigerator to gather all the necessary tools and ingredients was so energizing that Momo found herself growing excited. She’d never seen Denki so animated about cooking before; he was all smiles as he pranced around wearing a “Kiss the Cook” apron of All Might in a chef’s hat, so she couldn’t refuse him even if she wanted to. 

“All right, Chef Denki,” Momo chuckled as she tied an apple-patterned apron around her waist, “I’m under your tutelage tonight.” 

“It’s the only thing he’ll ever tutor you in,” Hanta joked, earning a sharp jab in the ribs from his cohort. 

“Anyway,” Denki said and cleared his throat, “pay close attention, Momo. I am going to teach you the sacred art of making hamburgers. First, we have to make the patties.” He took a few packs of ground meat and sliced open the plastic, dumping the stringy pink-red meat into a large aluminum bowl. 

“Everyone says they’re down with hamburgers tonight,” Hanta reported, sitting on the counter typing away at his phone. 

“Let’s see— with twenty people plus Mr. Aizawa, with an average of two burgers a person, that would be… forty patties,” he rattled off, using his fingers to count as he multiplied in his head. “We should be able to manage that between the three of us. Hanta, would you go ahead and plug in the mini-grill so it’ll be heated up?” 

“Sure thing, boss.” 

Denki returned his attention to the patiently-waiting Momo. 

“Now then. First, you want to make sure your patties are the right consistency, so you mix it with bread crumbs.” Momo watched with raised eyebrows as he took a box of them and dumped some into the bowl. “You want your patties to stick together, obviously, so you add eggs—” he continued as he cracked some open, spilling the golden yolks into the bowl— “and then milk to soften up the meat a little. Finally— and this is the most important part, Momo— you season it to perfection!” 

Momo watched in wonder as he added several spices and a dark brown sauce to the mix, saturating the meat in flavor, without even taking measurements. As he was telling her how to mix it up, scrunching the meat and other ingredients together with his hands, she smiled endearingly. 

“Wow, you’ve cooked this a lot, huh?” 

“Yup! Me and my folks took an overseas trip once to America when I was young, and we loved the hamburgers so much that we got a recipe from one of the locals! It became a staple in my household! Fast food burgers are nice n’ all, but nothing really compares to a good ol’ beefy homemade burger!” Denki grinned widely. 

“I think that’s great! Would you like me to get started on another bowl of ground beef, then?” 

“Yes, please!” 

Under Denki’s careful guidance, Momo added the ingredients one at a time to the bowl. When it came time to combine them, she squealed at the odd sensation of the sticky, gooey meat, fluid sauce and egg, and gritty powder squishing between her fingers. Denki laughed heartily at the disgusted faces she made while mixing up the ground beef, squeaking and shuddering all the while, until it was uniform. In the background, Hanta had been doing other small tasks like chopping lettuce and onions, slicing tomatoes and cheese, and setting out condiments. He finally joined them at the counter, wiping tomato juice off his hands with a dishtowel. 

“It’s a messy job,” Denki said as he grabbed a fistful of the meat, “but we’re not done yet! Now it’s time to make the patties.” 

“Ooh! My favorite part!” Hanta grinned, grabbing hamburger meat from Momo’s bowl with both hands. “Ya just roll it into a ball, then flatten it into a nice, round patty,” he said while demonstrating the motions. He then walked over to the simmering grill to plop it on the ridged surface. “Then ya grill it until it’s just right, and boom! Nice, tasty, juicy hamburger.” 

“Hanta, have you been to America, too?” Momo inquired as she slowly replicated the motion, still cringing at the sliminess of the raw meat. 

“Nah. I spent a lot of summer break at Denki’s house, though, and his old man taught me how to make ‘em!” Hanta said as he slapped another patty onto the small grill and closed the lid, filling the air with sizzling and popping. While he waited for the meat to brown, he leaned against the counter and flashed Momo a wink. “I felt kinda honored being included in the Kaminari family tradition of summer cook-outs!” 

“You’re my best friend! Of course you would be!” Denki grinned, sauntering over to bump elbows with Hanta. “And, since Momo is our best girl,” he continued while turning around to wink saucily at Momo, “it’s natural that she be included, too!” 

“Ah! Stop it; you’re going to make me blush!” Momo cried and, in her momentary embarrassment, slapped her palms to her cheeks. All the blood drained from her face as she realized she was smooshing raw meat and seasoning on her face. She screamed shrilly and ripped her hands away from her face, horrified by the bits of pulverized meat falling from her cheeks. As she raced to the sink, Hanta and Denki fell to the floor howling with laughter. “Stop it! It’s not funny!” she cried as she scraped at her face with a soapy sponge, tossing a glare over her shoulder. 

“Actually, it really is, Yaomomo,” Denki snorted as he climbed back up to resume making hamburger patties. Momo just sniffed dourly, thoroughly embarrassed. Then, an evil idea hatched in her mind; stealthily, she filled her cupped hands with ice-cold water and crept up behind Denki. Just as he took notice of her presence, she dumped it down the neck of his shirt. He yelped and his back arched backward as the cold liquid hit his skin. 

“Aye, aye, what the hell was that for?!” 

“Serves you right!” Hanta laughed, pointing at him and completely unaware that he was the next in Momo’s cross-hairs. “Wha—?” he blinked owlishly as Momo flung a glob of the raw meat at him; it collided with his cheek with a wet slap, slowly sliding down before landing on his tennis shoe. “I guess I deserved that.” 

“Hey, you morons! Don’t tell me you’re messing around in the kitchen!” boomed a grouchy voice. Momo turned to see Katsuki stomping in, his hands buried in his cargo pants pockets and his lips stretched in a scowl. His vermillion eyes slowly slid down to the chunk of meat dripping on Hanta’s shoe. “What the hell?! You can’t just waste food like that! Who taught you losers to cook?!” 

“Oi! This is my show! Go yell at someone else, Baku-bro!” Denki whined and poked at Katsuki with his foot as he continued to quickly pile up patties on aluminum foil next to Hanta, who returned from cleaning off his face to take the broiled hamburgers off the grill and put them on some buns. Katsuki slapped Denki’s foot away but obediently shambled out of the kitchen to join the rest of their peers, who had been attracted by the savory aroma now clouding the air. 

“All right, the guest of honor gets to try first,” Hanta grinned as he presented Momo with a fully dressed hamburger complete with a side of potato chips. As she took the paper plate, she was amazed at the weight of the thing, nearly spilling it all as she hastily recovered from the plate dipping. She set it safely on the counter before looking at it, wondering how the heck to eat it. 

“I… With my hands…?” 

“Hell yeah, girl! Get in there!” Denki encouraged with an airy laugh. Momo blushed before timidly grabbing the hamburger, grimacing at the juice that leaked onto her fingers when she lightly squeezed it. She craned her neck over the plate as she leaned in for a bite, trying not to drip it all over her clothes. First came the soft bread, then crunchy lettuce and tomato, then melty cheese, and then finally the savory meat. Momo hummed as the robust flavor exploded on her tongue, complemented by all the toppings. 

“Well? Amazing or what?” Denki grinned as he sidled up to her, wiggling his golden eyebrows expectantly. Too busy savoring the symphony of flavors on her tongue, Momo only nodded with her eyes fluttering shut. “Woohoo! Atta girl! Look at our Momo, getting messy with a big ol’ hamburger!” Denki laughed as he did a celebratory jig. 

“Ehhh? Did I hear Momo eating hamburgers?” Mina said as she poked her head in. Momo was mid-bite, her mouth stretching wide to accommodate the thick patty, and she froze to blink owlishly at the pink girl. “Ahhhh! Look how far you’ve come! Finally embracing the ways of us commoners, eh?” 

Instead of replying, Momo just crunched down on the burger, smiling dreamily as the deliciousness once again graced her senses. 

She had the answer to her question. Hamburgers were really that good! While the others began to file into the kitchen to claim their meals from Denki and Hanta, Momo savored hers bite by bite until she was finished. When she sheepishly presented her plate to Denki for seconds, he laughed and began fixing it for her. The others had vacated the premises, leaving only the two of them. 

“Thanks for sharing this with me, Denki. I had a lot of fun, and it was really good!” she said as he plopped a piece of pale green lettuce atop her patty. 

“To be honest, I was a little scared you wouldn’t enjoy it,” he admitted shyly, giving her a side glance as she gasped in shock. “I know you come from a really wealthy family, Momo, and generally… Rich folks don’t think highly of us little guys, you know?” 

“I know.” Though Momo’s family was kind and tolerant, that still didn’t mean that she hadn’t seen the uglier side of the bourgeoisie. With a soft smile, she wrung her arms around Denki’s waist and laid her head on his shoulder to squeeze him in a tight hug. “But I consider myself lucky! You guys teach me all kinds of neat and wonderful things, and I get to share things about my life with you all, too. I would never, ever judge you.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Denki hummed and gently bonked his head with hers. “Here you go, Momo. I hope you enjoy your seconds.” 

“Thanks,” she said as she took the plate. She then grinned roguishly. “To be honest, I might be up for thirds.” 

Like the hearty scent of homemade hamburgers wafting around the small kitchen, her and Denki’s laughter filled the air. 

Nope. In Momo’s book, nothing really did compare to one of Denki’s hamburgers, and it soon became one of her favorite things to cook with her friends, even out of all the things she learned from them.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[laurelnose]

new year update

- I am, in fact, still alive, I guess. almost surprising, tbh! doing a little better—still not great, but better. it’s cool, I don’t expect miracles from myself.

- thank you everyone for all the well-wishes. i can’t respond to everything individually but i do appreciate all of them and all of you 💛

- i’ve been thinking about if/how I want to start re-engaging with fandom. definitely I want to change some things about the way I do fandom in 2021, as debilitating mood disorder aside, I’m pretty dissatisfied with the current state of affairs. just for one, my audience is larger than i ever expected it to get and i need to re-evaluate some stuff.

- @eskelchopchop​ tagged me in that 5-favorite-things-you-created-in-2020 thing, & I thought yeah, it’s probably a good idea to take some time to meditate a bit on the things I managed to create this year. made me realize I did make a fair amount of stuff I forgot about and that was nice to remember! so, thanks for the tag, i appreciate it. cutting for length!

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

so…we’re going to do this two different ways. here’s the self-promotion the challenge was asking for: my top five favorite fanworks I posted this year, no particular order.

On Monsters as Invasive Species: this meta essay was a response to a tumblr ask, but it was so goddamn long and at the time I did not want to post anything to tumblr, so I tidied it up for AO3, which also let me do real footnotes!! anyways it’s about monsters, invasive species, and extinction events, and i’m very pleased with how it came out. my thoughts on the topic were super knotty and I wasn’t even sure what conclusion I would end up coming to when I started trying to formulate my response to this question, so ironing all my drafts out into something coherent took some effort, but it was worth it. (& yeah i’ll still probably post the actual ask response here at some point.)

Medieval clothing studies, ft. Yennefer: just really pleased with the hatching on these! I’m trying to get more adventurous with my use of black in my inking, usually to mixed success, and I love how these ended up turning out. plus, the whole process of doing the studies was a lot of fun. also pretty proud of the matching Lambert set but that doesn’t exist on the internet lmao

The library catalogue at Kaer Morhen: extremely niche & self-indulgent oc content with some of the cuter baby geralts I’ve ever done? yes. i am still unsure if this qualifies as a “joke,” but it’s hilarious to me. plus, the number of people not in witcher fandom who said they reblogged it solely for the accurate depiction of libraries was very flattering.

baby eskeralt tackles: this was one of seventeen art prompts I did over the course of three days, which I feel was a pretty heroic drawing effort!! bit of a toss-up between this one and the eskeralt kiss for which one is my favorite, but this one turned out exactly like I wanted it to and I really love the movement and expression I achieved with it. (it just so happens the kiss is reversed in my notebooks: on paper, eskel’s on the right, and I was halfway through when I decided I wanted their scars visible and opted to flip the art in post rather than redo my entire sketch, so the baby witcher piece has a bit of an edge for actually looking the way it does in real life.)

rotfiend reproduction: this isn’t exactly meta so much as just a goofy headcanon post, but it’s a thing I created and fuck, I just love this headcanon a lot, okay, it’s so bonkers off-the-wall and yet also reasonably canon-based, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to top “rotfiend sex requires explosions.” legitimately my monster bio peaked early with this one

and for the second way: thinking about everything I created this year, I realized that while the challenge specifically asks for links, many of my favorites never made it onto the internet. so I’m just going to mention those briefly because they were my actual top five!

Sigurður Hjartarson (+ cover art)

the character design bible I did for Gill

City of Animal Electricity

The Obsidian Star

Open Hand or Closed Fist

if you made it all the way down here, thanks for reading. i have no idea which of my mutuals have or haven’t done this at this point so i’m just going to tag @she-who-drank-vodka-with-cats​ and @kerasines/@witcherrarepair and if anyone else would like to do it, feel free to say I tagged you, and may the new year be good to you 💛

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

hey! so, i've been a huge fan of your writing for a while now. you always offer me so much inspiration within your stories, i absolutely love your ability bring life to all the characters and settings you write about. and idk if you're still accepting requests for your otp mix n' match challenge, nor if you'd even consider doing this request haha, but- could i perhaps request 15 & 11? i am super interested in potentially seeing what your take on my personal otp would be! much love either way

Hi, this has been in my drafts for like.... forever. Since April or May, I think? Oh boy. My apologies, I completely forgot about it until I stumbled across it today. But hey, better now than never, I suppose. Also thank you for your kinds words! I truly appreciate it! :D

“Louis and Mitch pretend to date to make others jealous but you know what happens.”

Read on AO3

This is a joke. 

This is a joke and he’s the butt of it. 

How did the fuck did he end up here?

Mitch knows this has to be a joke because Louis did not go through this much effort for it to not be a joke.

The remaining fries on the plate have gone cold, mushy beneath the squirt of bright cheddar cheese. Walter’s Diner has the best fries in this hellhole of a town, and usually, they’re the first thing he chows down before finishing his burger or even touching his shake. 

Fuck. Fucking hell. 

It’s hard to concentrate on and enjoy his food with Louis’ arm behind his neck, hand casually resting over Mitch’s shoulder as he and Violet argue whether they should order a basket of donut holes or four slices of peach pie for dessert. 

“They’re stuffed,” Violet says, pointing at the menu, reading, “‘Our bite-sized delights are baked to perfection, stuffed with our delicious cream cheese filling, and tossed in a heavenly mixture of cinnamon and sugar.’ And you’re telling me that doesn’t sound good?”

 “And you’re telling me that a slice of Walter’s famous peach pie doesn’t make your mouth water?” Louis sighs. “I’m salivating just thinking about it.”

Violet wrinkles her nose. 

“Peach pie sucks.”

“You suck.” 

“You suck.”

“C’mon guys,” Aasim butts in, eyes rolling in that exasperated way he gets whenever Louis and Violet do this. “Donuts suck, pie sucks, and you both suck. Let’s order ice cream.”

With a hand pressed against his chest, Louis lets out his fakest, most dramatic gasp. Next comes the obnoxious- and probably offensive- British accent.

“Why, my dear Mitch, Violet, did you hear what this lickspittle just said to us?”

Violet’s last tater tot goes flying as a response, bouncing off Aasim’s nose. 

“Are you serious?” Aasim snatches the tater tot back up, throwing it at Louis. 

“Hey! Rude!” Louis laughs, his arm slipping out from behind Mitch to try and catch the tot. “What did I do?”

Without a thought, Mitch grabs the offending tot and tosses it back at Aasim, who catches it and lets it drop onto his plate. 

“Knock it off, guys,” he says. “It shouldn’t take this long to decide on a dessert. I vote pie.” 

That makes Louis smile.

“Ah, a man after my own heart,” he sighs, shifting closer against Mitch’s side- Jesus Christ almighty- and pressing quick kiss against his cheek. 

Fuck everything. Fuck, fuck-

This causes Mitch to suck in a breath, only to cover it up by coughing into his sleeve. God, his face is going to melt off, especially if Louis keeps looking at him like that. 

“That’s not a surprise,” Violet rolls her eyes, ignoring the kiss and Mitch’s coughing fit. “He sucks, too.” 

“Can’t we just agree that we all suck?” Louis says. 

“Can’t you ever shut your pie hole?” 

“Can’t we all just order different desserts?” Aasim pleads, finger jabbing at the menu on the table to emphasize his point. 

Louis and Violet look at one another, puzzled as if that idea never occurred to them. At this point, Mitch didn’t even care about dessert, didn’t really even want any. 

Louis shifts and there’s the warm, distracting press of his knee against his and Mitch has never been so tense in his entire life. 

He's too fucking close. Too close. Too close. And he kissed him. On the cheek, sure, but fucking hell-

Never has he felt such tension in his body, even when something obnoxiously embarrassing passes his father’s mouth, or when Willy’s fingers slip from the branches of whatever tree he’s climbing and he almost plummets to the ground. 

He doesn’t know what’s worse: the fact that Aasim won’t stop gawking at them every time they do anything, or that Louis is fucking comfortable doing the things that make Aasim gawk in the first place. 

This whole thing is nothing but a cruel joke that Mitch was stupid enough to take the bait for.

And for what? A promise of Louis buying him lunch every day for a month? Was a free meal every day worth this level of anxiety and... gross feelings? 

“Fine,” says Violet. “I’ll eat a whole basket myself, but don’t any of you dare eyeball them. You had your chance.”

“I won’t eyeball your donuts if you don’t eyeball my pie.” 

“I won’t because pie sucks.”

“You suck!” 

“Oh my god,” Aasim abruptly twists around, desperately tapping on the shoulder of a now startled waitress. “Two slices of peach pie, a basket of donuts holes, and an ice cream cone to go. Please. I want to go home.” 

The waitress stares at him, baffled, before nodding and getting away from their table as quickly as possible. 

Louis chuckles, arm slipping back behind Mitch as he says, “I think she likes you.”

“Shut up!” Aasim frowns. “I swear to god...”

Louis continues to laugh, but he steals a glance at Mitch. Something softens and it’s... Mitch doesn’t know what the fuck it is. Ever since they started this, sometimes Louis will look at him like that.

From what he can tell, Louis doesn’t even look at the girl like that, and she’s the entire reason they’re doing this. 

That girl- what the fuck’s her name? He couldn’t have possibly tuned Louis out every time he mentions her- the redhead from his art class or whatever. She’s the one who started this bullshit.

About a month ago, Louis wrote him a note detailing, “I need your help. Meet me by the school entrance during lunch? It’s important,” while they’re in the middle of a pop quiz. As if Mitch didn’t have enough to worry about with all the damn fractions scattering the quiz, but then he was left worry about what the hell Louis needed his help with. 

Also, he did this without Mr. Garcia noticing. How the fuck that’s possible is beyond him. If they were caught, both of their quizzes would’ve been ripped to shreds. Mitch didn’t need that shit right now.

Then, the entrance was barely in sight by the time Louis snuck up on him, grabbed his arm, and proceeded to drag him outside and across the parking lot so they could hop into the safety of Mitch’s hand-me-down truck despite Mitch’s protests. He hadn’t cleaned his truck of its fast-food wrappers or loose sheets of forgotten homework in weeks, and that left him worried that the air freshener didn’t work. 

Finally, Louis managed to explain this so-called plan of his to Mitch with a straight face, not cracking once. He actually sounds serious enough that Mitch might’ve believed him if this bullshit wasn’t so... so bullshit.

“I really like her,” Louis had said, “and Violet said this kind of thing could get her attention.” 

Of course, Mitch didn’t agree so easily because the plan was- nd still is- stupid.

“You think pretending to date me is gonna get her attention?” he scoffed. “I’m not fucking doing this. Ask Vi.”

“I can’t ask Vi. She doesn’t date dudes and I’m pretty sure Brody would, like, break me in half or something.”

“Fine, Aasim then.” 

“C’mon, you know Aasim would never.” 

“Well,” Mitch threw his hands up. “I would never! Find someone else because I’m not gonna be your fake boyfriend so that you can make what’s-her-nut jealous!”

Jokes on him- Mitch’s been Louis’ fake boyfriend for weeks now because he hasn’t wooed what’s-her-nut yet. Which wasn’t that the whole point? They just pretend while she’s around? Not when they’re alone or when hanging out with Violet and Aasim? 

Louis said it was to make it as real as possible, just in case what’s-her-nut found out. That doesn’t explain why Louis is the way he is when it’s just the two of them. Doesn’t explain the kiss on the cheek. 

Mitch eats a cold fry, cringing at the taste. He can feel Violet looking at him while Louis goes on about something that happened in choir. When Mitch meets her eye, she smirks, raising a knowing brow. Mitch gives her a light kick under the table. 

When the waitress finally brings them their dessert in separate bags, she doesn’t stick around long and avoids eye contact with Aasim. 

“Hey, Vi,” Louis leans over her shoulder as they’re leaving the diner, “Can I have a donut hole?”

“I will stab you, your boyfriend, and your pie.”

“Hey, not my pie!” Louis grabs Mitch’s hand, knocking his shoulder into his. “Or my Mitch!” 

Fucking hell. 

Mitch doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this. 

[falsewings]

Rules: It’s time to love yourself. Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I was tagged by @pterawaters ! Most of these are fanfic (which, wow I wrote several fanfic this year alone 🤯) but one of them is a quick blog post because why not?

1. It's a Guessing Game (aka the stoncy band au), fanfic, Stranger Things, Steve/Nancy/Jonathan (stoncy)

So let's start with this one since it's my latest posted fanfic and my most popular one. Which, wow, what a welcome surprise ❤️. Fun fact, "the stoncy band au" was supposed to be a temporary name that I only used for my google doc. But I grew attached to it even after I figured out (and loved) the "real" fanfic title so I tacked it on to the end. This one was fun to write because I got to include all sorts of generalized fandom jokes and memes. I also included written out scenes (even though that & the articles were where my hypercritical self editor screamed at me the most lol) because even when I enjoy fanfic written via social media or texts, I'm always a bit hungry for some prose to go along with it. Figuring out how to represent twitter and instagram through text was super fun though. And I think I sort of predicted the November 5th tumblr chaos when I included the username "dashcon2020" in the fic 😜 Oh! And the thirst tweets! I love that series on Buzzfeed and I knew right away I wanted that to be part of the fic. I got as dirty as I could which means that tweets I did come up with were tame in comparison to actual thirst tweets I've seen. Whoops.

2. And After...?, fanfic, Once Upon a Time, Alice/Robin (CuriousArcher)

The reason I kept watching season 7! I have mixed feelings about Once Upon a Time but these two were highlights of the show. They only got less than a season but they were gold. This one took half a year to write (I'm a slow writer and super critical of what I do write) but I love it. The title is perfect (which is a Thing because I hate 99% of my story titles) and the end scene where Alice & Robin snuggle up in bed together and totes in love? So proud of that dialogue.

3. Sharing is Caring, fanfic, Stranger Things, platonic Robin & Steve

This was for comfortween even though I only ended up writing two fics for that challenge. Steve & Robin friendship fics were my intro to Stranger Things fanfic (and stoncy lol). My favorite part was adding anecdotes about Steve's neglectful parents. It's a short fic and maybe if I actually watched The Apartment instead of relying on Wikipedia & reviews, I could have really fleshed out the fic. But I think I got what I wanted out of the fic: Robin & Steve being besties & caring about each other. Also, if Steve & Robin having movie nights isn't canon in season 4, I will riot.

4. Treating a Sunburn, fanfic, Haven, Nathan/Audrey/Duke (Three Gulls)

My first Haven fanfic! I haven't written any Haven fanfic before (but when I was really into the show, I had tons of ideas). I did however, read most of the fanfic in the Nathan/Audrey/Duke tag. It's not an OT3 I was into when the show was airing but one day I thought, what if the love triangle was an OT3 & then I found a treasure trove of fics. Also Nathan & Duke touch each other a lot despite arguing & threatening to kill each other a lot. Which is partly what this short fic focuses on? Duke gets really close to Nathan's face & Nathan is only a little confused by it? I tried play up that bit but I feel like it got lost in rest of the fic. But anyways, I got to write fic for an OT3 I love & it didn't turn out too bad.

5. My shitpost/meta about Batwoman, the TV series

Okay so it was toss up between this post and a different shitpost I made about the Crisis on Infinite Earths crossover. But that post implied Kate Kane would play an active role in the future arrowverse and now she won't which makes me sad. But this is my humor in a nutshell. And if the writers didn't intend to make that parallel, I'll be shocked because it works so well. Especially since Batwoman's crossover episode only got to use two characters from their show.

And now to tag!

@chicspice @all-or-nothing-baby @itsithil @conversationslikeminefields

(no pressure though! Feel free to ignore if you'd rather not make your own list)

[softlyblues]

30th April 1876, Paris

Very little from the exhibition actually sells, because this is before they are very much in vogue, and Manet is still young with a spring in his step, and Renoir still follows Monet with hope in his eyes and a brush behind his ear. It is 1876, the second Impressionist exhibit in Nadar’s studio, and they are all young and full of vigour, skin so thick as to shrug off criticism because what would they know?

L’homme Distrait is a painting in the corner of the room, below a collection of Renoir’s studies of water. People’s eyes pass over it, oddly put off, although there isn’t much wrong with it. At first, anyway.

It is by a young man named Alfred Sisley, and it is odd because Sisley is known (already) for his landscapes. It is a very small canvas, all light and the spill of shadow,  the press of a hand against a pillow, the fall of hair along bare shoulders, a shirt slipped down to cup the upper arm, to reveal a smattering of intimate freckles along the back of the neck, trailing ever-downwards. Morning sun spills through the window the figure looks out of, and his face is hidden by the picture, captured from behind. His fingertips press into the pillow, clutching a little of the fabric, and what little the viewer can see below him shows bare feet tucked underneath bare legs, a tantalising peek at whatever else might lie beneath. It is tender.

Three paintings are sold, at the second Impressionist exhibit, although the publicity is a lot greater than that of the second. Two are sold to an art collector from Normandy, who has felt the way the wind is blowing -

And the third is sold to the strange man in the old-fashioned suits, who came every day of the exhibition to stare at the Sisley painting in the corner, an odd look of yearning in his eyes, his hands neatly tucked behind his back as though he doesn’t trust himself not to touch. He pays in cash and vanishes.

☼

2nd September 1889, London

Aziraphale does not have many houseguests, but he makes an exception for a few of his favourite people. It is just before the decade turns, and Oscar cuts a pompous figure lying on his chaise-longue with a wine glass hanging from his hand, but he’s a lonely soul and his young man - his Alfred, an undergraduate at Oxford just turned twenty - is chasing him. Oscar comes to Aziraphale to complain, wryly, that young men will chase without any of the idea the hurt they can cause, and Aziraphale is there with wine and an ear to lend.

“That painting,” Wilde says, waving a hand at the corner, “Often I’ve wondered about it. My tongue is too loose, but my friend - yours is too tight.”

Aziraphale doesn’t have to turn to know which painting Wilde refers to; over the years, he’s wondered if he should discard it, but every time he tries to his hand stills. “I found it in the Impressionists,” he says lightly. “A trifling thing.”

“An odd choice of subject matter for the air-silly men, surely,” Wilde says. He can be astute when he wants to be, damn the bastard.

Aziraphale shrugs. “I thought it was unique, and Sisley was only too glad to sell.”

“Do you know who the sitter is?”

“No,” Aziraphale says.

Oscar’s eyes, mostly full of self-pity, swell with gentle laughter. “My friend - you never did learn how to lie.”

“I don’t know him,” Aziraphale says, “I - I know his name.”

“Oh?”

Aziraphale fills his glass, and then Oscar’s when he holds it out. “His name is Anthony,” he says steadily, and wills his voice not to tremble overmuch, “But we have - that is to say, I do not see him anymore. I haven’t in a long time. I saw the painting at the exhibition and it seemed like I ought to buy it, although I never told Sisley my name and I cannot imagine Anthony would be too happy to know I bought it.”

Wilde laughs. It isn’t a very happy laugh. “You and I,” he says, and tips the edge of his glass against Aziraphale’s, “Must be the most miserable men in all of England. Our lovers run away.”

Aziraphale doesn’t disagree.

☼

And On The Seventh Day, He Rested

That is not even close to how it begins, but it is a view of things from the other side of the mirror.

Crowley doesn’t remember his life before the Fall, only that he must have had one, and that he must have had a good reason for leaving Above and going Below. He remembers the pain of it, of everything burning and the feathers on his wings scorching black with the heat, a God angry at the rejection of one of Its children. Crowley remembers screaming, and then blackness, and then Hell.

He hadn’t liked Hell at all. When they asked for volunteers to tempt on this new experiment God was creating, Crowley had jumped at the chance, back when he was still just Crawly and nothing much separated him from all the rest of the poor bastards down there who had just wanted to know why.

And he got up there and found out that the world was open and airy and beautiful, and things smelled of peaches, and Eve was nice to him, stroking a finger along his scaly back. “You’re pretty,” she tells him now.

This is how it begins.

“I will call you a snake,” Eve tells him, and Crawly rears up all proud of himself, because he has a name someone else has given him and it seems to fit him as though it always has. Like a glove. “You are a snake because of the hiss you make.”

To make her happy, Crawly does it.

Her laugh is beautiful, and he is proud of himself for making it - that is something he has done himself, created all on his own, and it feels so good to create joy in the air, especially for Eve. Crawly likes her ever so much more than he likes Adam, who is a bullyish man, stomping about the garden and forcing names on things that don’t suit them at all. A part of Crawly wonders if Adam will be happy about snake.

“Hello.”

It is a few days later, and Crawly is testing out his other form, sitting on the wall of the garden and swinging his legs over the side. He’s eating an apple. It’s green, juicy, running down his chin, full of good flavour and a sharp bite, and this is why he volunteered - because there are no apples in Hell.

“Hello,” something says again, and a vision all in white settles beside Crawly.

Crawly scrunches up his nose. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m a Principality,” says the angel, almost apologetically. “I think I’m meant to be guarding Eden from temptation and things like that? It’s all quite exciting. I’ve been speaking to Adam, a lot.”

“Good,” Crawly tosses his apple over the wall, where it rolls into the barren sand.

(And why is Eden the only place of life? What has made it special?)

(Something takes root.)

“You’re the temptation, then, I gather,” says the angel. He is quite pretty, objectively, a spray of short white hair over an amicable face, a sharp little nose and bow-shaped lips. His robes fall to his ankles, suitably demure, and his hands are folded in his lap as though he’s awaiting a lecture from God Itself.

Crawly shrugs, and feels very sinful. “I’m the temptation.”

(Later he thinks this is part of the Holy Punishment. It must be. To love, and to never be loved in return - a black hole, a void in reverse, giving and giving and never receiving. This is the last and first joke, by a God cruel enough to laugh at it, placing the one thing Crowley wants in front of him and saying: this is not for you.)

“You look very benign,” the angel says, like an apology. “I - oh! I’m very sorry. I’m Aziraphale, Principality. Your name can’t just be temptation.”

“Crawly,” Crawly says, going scarlet at the saying of it aloud. “Although I’m thinking of changing it.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” says Aziraphale politely, and Crawly thinks oh so this is what it’s like to see the sun rising.

He doesn’t mean to tempt.

Truly, he doesn’t.

“Oh, snake,” whispers Eve one golden night when the sun is hanging over the sky, a guest that refuses to leave, “I am so sad, and I don’t know why. I wish you could speak to me, snake - sometimes it feels like you’re my only friend.”

Her and Adam sleep at opposite ends of the Garden. Eve curls beneath a bush, her hair bouncing over one breast, and shivers in the cold; she has nothing to clothe herself in, and even in the desert the nights are freezing. Crawly can’t imagine surviving with warm blood in his veins, instead.

You are my dearesssst friend, Crawly hisses, his tongue flickering out to brush against her cheek. He can’t help it - and anyway, Hell would tell him if he was doing anything truly wrong. Right.

“He hurts me so,” Eve says. Water pools underneath her pupils, and spills over her cheeks, and when Crawly bumps his nose against it he tastes warm salt. “I wish he didn’t, snake, but he does, and he expects me to forget and be his wife. Loving. I love him, and he says he loves me!”

Love is cruel, Crawly says to ears that cannot hear him. As though he knows anything.

“But if he loved me he would be kind.”

Crawly is silent, but his eyes are drawn to the tree in the centre of the garden, and he wonders… all he wants to do is help.

“I wish I knew! For good or ill, I wish I knew!”

And Crawly wraps around her shoulders, and whispers in her ear, and Eve hears.

They leave soon after that.

But Aziraphale gives them the flaming sword, and surely that must count for something? Something meant for good will turn out badly, but something meant for good might still work the way it was intended.

Crawly leaves, belly flat in the sand, and behind him an apple tree takes root, and a single Principality takes flight, dove’s wings in the burning blue of a sky too new to be clouded.

☼

Summer 1194 BC, Troy

The funeral is solemn. The sight of the pyre, hot and sticky in the air of summer, makes bile rise in the back of Crowley’s throat, although he hides under the wraps of a mourning widow in the crowd, unseen to most everyone - he doesn’t want to be bothered, doesn’t want to be talked to.

What a fucking waste.

He is present at the council, too.

“The boy asked for his ashes to be mixed with-”

“But that’s it. He is just a boy, and a war hero, and that other-”

Crowley adds his voice to the chorus. “Achilles is a hero,” he says roughly, dressed now as a war general and not a widow, “And a hero deserves to have his last wishes honoured, does he not? Come to your senses! Would any of you, any of you, wish to be buried in a way not of your choosing?”

For a brief second he holds the sway of these powerful men, men who have grown powerful by getting rid of the caring. He can see them considering. But -

“Achilles was a war hero,” says someone roughly, in a voice much stronger and less stricken than Crowley’s, “And Patroclus was nothing but a man in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was Achilles’ one blind spot, and we can forgive the man, but we cannot let this continue past his death. Patroclus was a murderer.”

“Let them be,” Crowley says, one last attempt, “Let them be.”

He is shouted down.

“Hello,” Aziraphale says softly.

Crowley is sitting by the seashore, already deep into his cups with no sign and no intention of slowing down yet. “Hello, angel,” he says gloomily. “Come to gloat?”

To his surprise, Aziraphale sits down beside him, rather heavily. The two of them tend to avoid each other, still, even with all the awkward camaraderie of the ark and the garden and the following the Israelites around their sorry mission - Crowley just can’t get past it, somehow, the way Aziraphale looks. The way he moves. The way it strikes a yearning in his heart.

“Gloat?” Aziraphale sounds injured at the very thought of it. “I thought - I thought they would let them rest. They were so young.”

Wordlessly, Crowley passes the wine over. “It was Pyrrhus, in the end, who swayed them. I think he was embarrassed by it all. Patroclus-”

“They were in love,” Aziraphale says softly.

Crowley looks across, although he tries not to.

(When he meets Aziraphale, he tries always to look away, because the sight of the angel brings him such unbearable pain, deep down in his heart where he can’t heal it away. Aziraphale is always ringed in a peculiar light that doesn’t glow, as though Crowley’s eyes can see what Crowley often forgets; that Aziraphale is a heavenly body, and Crowley is not.)

Aziraphale is dressed like a foot soldier resting, half in uniform and half out, his undertunic white, a little smeared with sand. His hair is the same as it always was, because he doesn’t seem inclined to change as much as Crowley does, and the straps of his sandals are done a little messy. He is crying big, fat, ugly blobs down his cheeks, two streams meeting at his chin and dripping off to plop on his hands. “They were in love,” he says again, “They didn’t deserve it.”

“Oh, Aziraphale,” Crowley says. He tries to say something else, and then stops.

Aziraphale passes back the wine. “They didn’t deserve it.”

“Deserving has nothing to do with anything,” Crowley says before he can stop himself, “Nobody deserves what they’re given. You should know that by now.”

Oh, and does he feel like a heel when Aziraphale turns blue-stained eyes on him. “How can you say that!”

“All those people who drowned to make a new world. Those children, those babies,” and Crowley is only letting himself say this because he’s drunk and bitter, “All those people who died for Its purpose - did they deserve to drown? Did Noah deserve to live? Does Pyrrhus deserve to continue when Achilles is gone? Did Patroclus deserve to die? None of it has to do with who deserves anything. It’s all a game, angel, and all we are is another pair of playing dice.”

“You don’t believe that,” Aziraphale says. He sounds hurt, beyond hurt.

Crowley digs his fingers into the sand. “I have to believe that,” he says. “Because if Achilles deserved to die, if Patroclus deserved to die, for nothing - just for being in love - then nobody deserves to live at all.”

“Crowley-”

He’s done talking. He doesn’t want to talk about love with Aziraphale, on a beach, the smell of burning body drifting down the wind, Patroclus trapped and Achilles sent to the heavens, Troy falling and soldiers revelling. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, and perhaps he sounds so small that Aziraphale listens.

Although they only have one jar, the wine never runs empty, not until the sun rises and Crowley turns beside him and sees only marks in the sand where an angel should be.

☼

Autumn 570 BC, the Leucadian Cliffs

The woman on the cliff is a small, white-haired, bent-over lady, who holds herself with the poise of a woman who knows she was once beautiful beyond compare. She does not cry.

Crowley is here, but Aziraphale he hasn’t seen in almost a century.

“My love,” she says to him. “I miss you ever more by the day.”

Crowley reaches out, grabs her by the shoulder; in this body, a young woman from Lesbos itself, the strongest thing about him is the red of his hair. His translucent hand goes right through her. “Please, my love,” he says, in a voice high and flute-like. “Don’t do this.”

Sappho smiles at him sadly. “You are but a ghost,” she tells him. “The ghost of my one love. Claudia - Claudia. When I die I will see her in Hades, and that will be more gift than this - this existence on a rock.”

“Please,” Crowley says again.

(He has been discorporated for the last five years, the female body he liked so much, killed by a lingering disease, but he hasn’t yet had the courage to go Below to ask for a new body. And so here he is, hanging around the woman who fell in love with him, avoiding the angel he’s fallen in love with by a haunting. He wishes he couldn’t. He wishes she wouldn’t.)

“My Claudia didn’t love me, truly,” Sappho says. She’s still beautiful now, and Crowley sees her as the small, vibrant woman she was and is - black hair wrapping around her waist, blue eyes strong and seeking. “My Claudia loved another, but she never would tell me who. Would you tell me, spirit? Before I die?”

“I’ve given my heart to an angel,” Crowley confesses. The sea hits the rocks below, and almost drowns him out. “Please-”

“And the angel is well deserving of it,” Sappho says.

She doesn’t scream, on the way down. She only smiles.

Is this what Crowley deserves?

☼

21st April 33AD, Golgotha

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Crowley replies, and it should be a joke but John is sobbing on the grassless ground and Aziraphale’s bottom lip is wobbling and all he can hear is Mary wailing for her son. Her son. Not anybody else’s. What’s the point in a father that never shows up?

Aziraphale’s hand touches his arm, and Crowley tries not to startle; instead, he turns his palm up, and Aziraphale’s falling fingers touch Crowley’s, and then their hands are linked without either of them quite knowing why.

Crowley doesn’t let go. Neither does Aziraphale.

“I tried, you know,” Aziraphale says dazedly. “I think it was the wrong thing for me to do - but I met him in the desert, just before he came here, and I told him he could have all his Father’s love if he just - if he didn’t-”

“Ineffable,” Crowley says, voice dull. “I met him in the garden. I told him not to do it. I told him he could have the world, he could have John if he wanted, and he said he couldn’t. I tried.”

Three years ago, and Crowley is in the crowd, when Jesus meets John, and just as the clouds part for the dove he sees Aziraphale on the other side of the river. Aziraphale smiles at him, a look altogether too fond although they have been working more together these days, less likely to fall apart, and John touches Jesus very gently, as though he might break.

“My lord,” he says.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, on the other side of the river now as though he’d always been there, and if he speaks in the same tone as John he prays (hah) that nobody notices.

Aziraphale is smiling. “They’ve found each other, Crowley! I always knew they would. Oh - oh, it can’t go wrong. He’s the one, you see?”

John follows Jesus through Israel, and Crowley and Aziraphale follow in turn, part of the faceless crowd that grows every time Jesus goes to speak. He preaches on mountains, on boats, in towns, in villages, by wells, in the countryside, by grass that no longer grows, and John supports him and helps helps baptise the converted and Crowley watches him fall in love. It is beautiful to watch.

They collect the forgotten, on the way. Peter, skinny and young and growling in displeasure; James and the other John, fishing boys who drop their nets, Phillip, Thomas, Matthew, the other James… Thaddeus, Simon, Bartholomew. All too small, all too young, all full of fervent faith. He and Aziraphale meet often, in this time.

It feels like the end of the world is coming.

“John loves him,” Crowley says. They’re sitting on the top of an inn where Jesus is preaching, on the roof where nobody will disturb them.

Aziraphale is eating olives very daintily, his lips wrapped around each one. He looks divine. “Jesus loves him too, I’m sure,” he says like he’s never had cause to doubt it, “They pair of them are - well. Made to be together. I was speaking to John in the last house they were at, and I’m glad for him. I think Jesus feels the strain.”

Crowley relaxes, looks into the starry sky. John loves Jesus. Jesus, the Christ Child. John, the man. “They seem very happy. That can’t last.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sounds so disapproving, “I do wish you weren’t such a cynic about love.”

I’m not, Crowley thinks. “I’m not,” he says.

Aziraphale laughs and pats Crowley’s knee, a single spot of burning warmth. “You always have been, my dear, ever since I’ve known you.”

I’m trying to convince myself, not the rest of the world.

Crowley doesn’t say that bit out loud.

And Judas comes later, the youngest of them all, sixteen and wary, round brown eyes under curly hair, robes that don’t reach his ankles and feet dusty with dirt that isn’t ever properly washed. Crowley sees him and thinks you poor child, and he sees in the way Judas looks at Jesus that there is love, too, with no hope of ever being returned.

John the Baptist kisses the Emmanuel under a fig tree by moonlight, with Aziraphale and Crowley the sole watchers, strolling along the gardens. “Oh,” Aziraphale says softly.

Crowley wonders what it is like to do that - to do as John does. Cup his lover by the cheek, a thumb under the jaw, tip the face up so lips can meet, eyes brushing shut and eyelashes tangling, hair mussed, robes slipping from their fastenings, the sounds of two young people in love drifting over the air.

He looks at Aziraphale, and wonders if he’s thinking the same thing.

Judas finds nobody, in all their three years of wandering. Crowley wills him to, most desperately. Love is not what you think it is, he tries to say without saying, but Judas doesn’t want to hear.

Which brings them to this hilltop, this place, John beating his fists against the ground and weeping apologies to a God who planned this all along.

“We both tried to do the same thing,” Aziraphale says, as though in a daze. “I wonder - does that make me good, or you evil? Is this the good outcome?”

“You cannot look at this and tell me this is good,” Crowley snaps.

On the cross, Jesus has long since stopped making noise, and the sight of his body makes Crowley feel a little sick. Surely one human shouldn’t have that much blood in them; surely one human shouldn’t look so twisted, so wrong. The thorns have torn the skin on his scalp, and the blood has run down his face, down his cheeks, like some sort of awful parody of tears. John is screaming. It is the only sound in the world.

“I can’t believe God would ever,” Aziraphale says, and stops, and his face is twisted in anguish, “I mean - this is so awful. There must be a good purpose behind it. There must.”

Otherwise what is there?

“He truly loved him,” Crowley says softly. “And now he’s dead. What will John do now?”

He can’t wait to hear Aziraphale’s answer - he doesn’t think he can bear it. It’s the work of a second to slip into the skin of a snake, the animal Eve loved the most, and to slither away under the scrubby apple tree clinging to sand to survive.

☼

14th February 1212, Cologne

“This is foolish,” says Crowley. He doesn’t have to look to know Aziraphale is beside him.

“Crowley-”

“They are children, Aziraphale!”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, and he sounds broken. He’s dressed like a German shepherding man, this time, and it oddly fits with Crowley, dressed as he is like a minor noblewoman from the Rhineland. They blend into the crowd here, listening to the child Nicholas speak, shaking his tiny fist in the air. Encouraging his crowd to war.

The cheers are high-pitched, because not a single voice among them has broken. The crowd must be thousands strong, tens of thousands, all whipped up into holy fervour by the dreams of one child, and now they’re going to march to war.

“They are children,” Crowley hisses. “You can’t talk to me about the ineffable plan. Not now. Don’t have the gall to speak to me about that.”

“Come with me,” Aziraphale says. His hand wraps around Crowley’s, like they did at Golgotha, and holds him tight. “I can’t do anything, and I can’t watch any longer.”

Aziraphale miracles them away to a quiet mountain in the southern part of the world, somewhere that will be found by Columbus in a little bit, somewhere that the native people call only home. This mountain is remote, tall, and huge trees spread their branches over the top of it, casting shadows that protect the pair of them from the watchful eyes of the sun.

As soon as Crowley balances himself from the miracle performed, Aziraphale is letting go of him and pressing his hands to his eyes. “They’re all so young,” he’s shouting, and he sounds angry. “So young! What do they know of the Holy Land!”

It almost frightens Crowley - he’s used to Aziraphale explaining it all away, calling it ineffable, saying it’s part of the Plan, and to have this -

This uncertain Aziraphale -

Crowley’s heart aches for something he’ll never deserve.

“Angel,” he says, and catches Aziraphale by the wrists, prying his hands away from his eyes, “Aziraphale - oh, don’t. Please don’t.”

Aziraphale’s eyes are rimmed in red. “They’re all going to die,” he whispers. “What are we going to do?”

Crowley doesn’t say there’s nothing they can do, because Aziraphale surely knows that, and it would hurt too much to say. He just keeps holding Aziraphale, underneath a wide and spreading tree, and curses Above and Below until he’s sure to be blue in the face, until he can curse no more.

He doesn’t know when they sink to the ground, only that they do, and Crowley can do nothing but sit as Aziraphale wipes wet eyes on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he sniffs. “I never meant for this to happen.”

“You had nothing to do with it,” Crowley says, and he says it as though it’s fact.

(Although in truth, he’s had very little to do with Aziraphale this past decade; he just assumes, and knows he’s right to do so, that Aziraphale would never do anything that would lead to something like this.)

“But he’s doing it in the name of God,” Aziraphale’s voice sounds wet.

“Angel,” Crowley says, and cynicism makes a home in his heart even though he doesn’t mean it to, “You know as well as I do that God has nothing to do with what happens down here.”

He sits, and lets the angel wring himself dry of the tears. All the same - it is a long time before they go back to Europe.

☼

in between, always, everywhere

Crowley learns from humanity, the lessons he’s been taught himself since before time began. Love is patient, love is kind… love is cruel, love is blind. He and Aziraphale meet and tangle, and hold hands, and once Aziraphale holds him by the cheeks and kisses him drunkenly on the forehead. They are wrapped together, and the world seems far too small to hold the both of them.

Crowley loves him. Nothing more, nothing less.

Aziraphale is beautiful, and in his laugh and his smile and the crinkle of his eyes Crowley finds a very particular peace. He can live without having the love returned, so long as he gets to exist around him.

He tells jokes, and he likes fine wine, and he reads poetry, and he never stumbles on quotations when he’s drunk. He goes very fast and very slow, all the time, flitting from country to country and then staying in one village for a hundred years. He does good deeds and bad deeds, and when he sees Crowley after a long absence, his eyes soften and his mouth opens and he says oh my dear, i’m so glad to see you! and something inside Crowley’s chest grabs him tight. Holds him. Vice-like, it says You Love Him and stubbornly Crowley refuses to listen.

Love is patient, love is kind. Crowley watches Aziraphale eat, watches him flirt, watches him be as cruel and dismissive as the harsh sting of a winter morning, watches him pour blessings like water to a flame, and watches all the while.

Nothing more, nothing less.

☼

5th October 1589, Cornwall

The wedding isn’t a very happy one. Crowley hovers in the crowd, wrapped in his shawls, and watches the bride walk down the gravel path to the church, her face stormy, the bruise on her cheek stroking the skin there like the kiss of a mother. The groom is inside, and walking with a limp.

This far South, the Romans and the Christians after them were pretty successful in wiping clean the slate of Celtic spirit, which Crowley finds quite a shame. He always enjoyed the spirituality of the druids, the manic chanting, the fun behind the myths - but he can’t quite complain, either, because the Celts haven’t quite as much fear of demons as the Christians. The Celts would have befriended him.

Still, in Cornwall the old ways cling on a little, and the wedding is between two peasants without a single bean to their name, and no need to care about the Christian path. The couple are Bakerson, Robert and Millie, and they are marrying through an arrangement with their parents, so somebody can inherit the small village bakery and the farm that goes with it. The Bakersons are a wealthy family.

“Poor girl,” says a voice in Crowley’s ear, and before Crowley can jump Aziraphale’s hand grabs his wrist. “It’s only me, dear.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley manages. “I-”

“She was in love with the tinker,” Aziraphale says sadly. He’s wearing the clothes of a travelling gentleman, and looks quite out of place in a crowd of peasants and their cousins; all the same, nobody looks at him twice. A simple miracle.

“I know.”

“He was in love with the bootboy.”

“I know,” Crowley says again. An odd bitterness fills him. “I’ve been here for almost ten years, angel - I know these people. I was trying to let her run away with the thrice-damned tinker, much good it did them, and the bootboy was never meant to get cold feet.”

“Temptation,” Aziraphale says disapprovingly.

“I tempted them to nothing,” Crowley says. The church bells ring. “I only tempted them to forget the wills of their parents and do what their hearts told them, and look what that got me.”

“Honour thy father and mother,” Aziraphale quotes. In his mouth the commandment sounds soft and gentle, like something to encourage.

Crowley feels ill. He is gone before Robert and his new bride emerge, glowering in the light of a new day, although Mr Fell stays in the village a while longer, and for a long time their little community is blessed with incredible good fortune - the travelling tinker man stays several months, next time he visits. Miss Crow, though, is never seen in the place again, and rumour has it she was herself a spurned lover, and something happened between her and the fine gentleman. Mr Fell will never confirm nor deny, but he looks awfully sad when she’s brought up.

☼

1st December 1801, London

They are drinking in Aziraphale’s bookshop - drinking rather expensive wine - and Crowley is so, so tired.

He gets like this sometimes. Tired of existing maybe, without a break since the world first began, tired of loving Aziraphale for so long and knowing this is all he’ll ever get in return, tired of living in a world that was never designed for him to exist in. This is why sleep is the only real human indulgence he goes in for. He needs to rest.

“You need to drink,” Aziraphale hiccups, and splashes more wine into the cup in Crowley’s hand. “You look so cold, my dear, you need to drink!”

“I don’t really think I do,” Crowley says, but he does as he’s told. Does what Aziraphale wants.

(Hah!)

They’re drinking a very fine whisky; Crowley’s spent a lot of time in Scotland, and has developed quite the taste for it, orange fire down his throat. It burns. Aziraphale doesn’t like it as much, says he prefers the wine and port and drink of southerly places, but Crowley likes alcohol made only to keep you warm at night. Either freeze, or drink fire. Either way you end up dead.

Aziraphale winces when he next takes a drink, but he doesn’t say anything. Crowley watches him out of the corner of his eye, as he always does, otherwise he’d miss it.

The bookshop is a new addition, one that has arrived since the last time Crowley saw Aziraphale - although that was a very long time ago, almost half a century. Seventeen-sixty-three, when Aziraphale had been sent by heaven across the water to one of those continents untouched by human hands yet, when Crowley decided to wander over to Ireland on sabbatical. Fat lot of good that had done him. United Irishmen? Hah.

But the bookshop suits Aziraphale down to the ground, it does. He’s always been a lot more rooted to places than Crowley, who prefers to be on the move, through the change… Aziraphale likes to pick a place and settle into it like  a mother hen ruffling into a dirt bath. Cooing. Content. And this way, Aziraphale has his collection to hand without anyone trying to burn him for witchcraft, which is always a plus - considering.

A drunk finger lands on Crowley’s knee. “Stop thinking,” says Aziraphale with the gusto of the happily tipsy. “You think too much. Stop it.”

“I can’t help but think,” Crowley says, even as he takes another deep slug of the whisky.

“Ridiculous. Should be against the law.”

“Thinking?”

Aziraphale nods. “Precisely.”

But none of this helps the fact that Crowley is still so very tired, and all he wants to do is sleep for a hundred years. He wants to stop loving Aziraphale. It hurts too much, and even more because he knows there is no reward - there is no breaking point, no place he can hit that makes everything alright. He just loves and sinks and keeps loving and sinking, and Aziraphale shines with all the brilliance of a thousand suns and that’s all Crowley will ever be, right up until the end of the world.

“Angel,” he says, and then stops, shocked at how cracked and broken his voice sounds. “Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale looks briefly alarmed. “My dear boy-”

“I’m very tired,” Crowley says, a little lamely. “Do you mind if I skip out on the after-drinks?”

“No, no, but-”

“I’m tired,” Crowley says again.

None of this helps that, even in the breaking point, he knows he’ll never stop loving Aziraphale. This is as low as he’ll ever go, and even then -

And even then -

It never ends.

☼

the first day of the rest of the world, London

“Where did you get that painting?”

Aziraphale had spent the night after the apocalypse in Crowley’s flat, where they’d shared the bed and stayed up all night, each convinced the other was asleep, wondering how on earth to proceed without making the other feel uncomfortable. Now, though, they’re in the bookshop with some tea and buns, because nothing feels more solid than a scone with butter and jam on the top.

(Crowley refuses to mention which way round. He doesn’t want to anger the Cornish.)

“What painting?” Aziraphale stops with his cup halfway to his mouth, looking a bit confused.

“That one,” Crowley nods towards it. In truth, he recognises it well enough, even though it’s been over a hundred years since it was painted; Alfred was such a lovely man, so accommodating, and Paris in the 70s (no, not those ones) had been such a friendly place. Full of so much - newness.

He’d only woken up to refresh himself, really, because sleeping for almost a hundred years does take it out of you, and by chance he’d wandered onto the streets of Paris and found himself in a bundle of men in black hats, all talking very excitedly about colour and light and how absolutely mad it was that nobody would let them in. It had all been rather fun.

“Anthony,” Alfred had said, a little breathless, “Won’t you let me paint you? I have excellent studio light, and you beg a painting. I can see it. Please?”

“Oh, if you must,” Crowley had said, as though it meant nothing.

It had been nice, the kisses. Very soft. Alfred loved him and didn’t seem to mind that his Anthony was detached, because it was Paris in the 1870s and you took what you could get and you didn’t care about the secrets everyone was hiding. It had been nice.

So  -

“Where did you get it,” Crowley asks again, in the now, after everything.

Aziraphale looks a little flustered. “I - it was in Paris, you see, and it was almost going to be seventy-five years after I’d seen you… you remember that sleep you took, all of the nineteenth century, and I - well, one of my friends, a sort of… he was a confidant, you see, Oscar and everything, and he mentioned this delightfully odd art movement in Paris, and so I went. Sisley was very… delicate. And that awful art critic was there. And-”

“Did you ever learn who the sitter was?”

If possible, Aziraphale looks even redder. “Um. Sisley never said-”

“But you know,” Crowley says. “You recognised it.”

“I hadn’t seen you in almost a century!”

Crowley shrugs. “I told you I was tired.”

“And then I saw you in that painting, so of course I was going to buy it,” Aziraphale looks almost angry at him now. “Alfred Sisley! And of course, when I asked where you’d gone he said he’d had his heart broken by you and he had no idea. I spent all that time looking for you, and then-”

“I was asleep.”

“You could have told me!”

“I did,” Crowley says, watching Aziraphale get more and more frantic with a sort of wild confusion, “I said I was tired, and that I was going to bed, and I’d see you in a bit. I thought… I didn’t think you’d mind at all, really.”

“Mind!”

“Uh.”

“Of course I would mind!” Aziraphale doesn’t often raise his voice, never mind making the sort of shrieking yell he is now, so when he does it makes Crowley shut up and listen. “Crowley - you idiot! Of course I would mind, you frustrating, ridiculous, stupid-”

“I did it because I was in love with you,” Crowley says.

Silence.

“I was in love with you and I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I went to sleep. For a long time. I thought when I woke up I would be over it.”

Silence. There’s a blob of strawberry jam on Aziraphale’s nose, where the scone he was eating had obviously proven a bit too unwieldy.

Crowley finishes his cup of tea and sets it on the table, very deliberate, and quite loud. “And that’s the end of it,” he says, “And I hope there’ll be no more. Any scones left, or did you eat them all- mmf-”

Aziraphale is not a good kisser, and neither is Crowley, because until very recently both their Head Offices looked down on immortal beings going in for sins of the flesh. That doesn’t matter. That doesn’t matter at all, because they’ve both waited for far too long for it to be anything other than a good kiss.

“L’homme distrait,” Aziraphale says breathlessly, a little while later. “I always wondered - the man, distracted by what?”

“You shouldn’t need to ask,” Crowley says. And kisses him again, because he can.

[a-very-fond-farewell]

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 18/?

University AU: “Negative Space”

[ok so, self projection is a bitch, but I am petty to myself on a regular basis so it’s ok]

[title is from the Japanese concept “ma”, which Wikipedia describes as:

“a Japanese word which can be roughly translated as ‘gap’, ‘space’, ‘pause’ or ‘the space between two structural parts.’ In traditional Japanese arts and culture, ma is more carefully defined as the suggestion of an interval. It is best described as a consciousness of a sense of place, with the ‘intervals’ suggested often being more than simple gaps, instead focusing on the intention of a negative space in an art piece.

Ma is not necessarily an art concept created by compositional elements, such as the literal existence of a negative space. Instead, the intention is often to create the perception of an interval in the viewer experiencing the elements forming an art piece, making maless reliant on the existence of a gap, and more closely related to the perceived experience of a gap.

Ma has also been described as ‘an emptiness full of possibilities, like a promise yet to be fulfilled’, and as ‘the silence between the notes which make the music’.”

Fun fact: “ma” also means “but” in Italian, which is what usually follows whatever intrusive thought may plague my mind. Eg: “I may be useless now, BUT just you wait until I get some dopamine to get me through this shitty times.”]

*

Wei Ying never asked for much in his life. He’s content with cleaning classrooms and toilets and nobody can beat him at wiping the marble floors if he works hard enough. Granny Wen, his supervisor, is slightly impressed with his ability to make the wood shine for ages to come. His nephew Jin Ling sometimes comes to check on him when he’s done with senior classes or cram school in the evening, and together they sit down and listen to whatever his older friends in music production came up with during the day. Jiang Cheng occasionally would ask him to keep him company while he grades papers and they bitch about ZiXuan and his inability to dote on their sister. The cafeteria ladies are always nice to him and they give him extra congee because they worry for his questionable consumption of spice products.

He’s fine, really.

So why can’t he stop wandering over to the science building these days? Looking for a clean board to use, for an equation to finally solve? Even if in the end he just takes the chalk in hand and simply stares down at the inky surface in front of him, unable to write. His mind working on a software too advanced for the hardware that constitutes his brain.

Thirteen years. It has been already thirteen years and yet it feels like yesterday, or like it never happened at all. Like it has yet to be. Time blindness is a bitch to deal with, yet dyscalculia and ADHD makes a joke out of you when you love math on a visceral level... but you burned too bright too fast and now you function on no data and with an even shittier signal. Having a burnout at 23 should have taught him humility instead of pride, but Wei Ying has always worked out of spite and certain habits are difficult to forget.

Couldn’t put the number in the right order, switching digits left and right since he was young? Fine. Numbers were concepts anyway, entire civilizations working their magic without even knowing what “zero” stood for. A brain steaming with a million ideas per second? Good. New connections brimming with ideas he could use to better the world.

It worked fine until he let himself down. Until he became a useless empty lighter, a wet match tossed out, carbon monoxide in the air.

Dropped out before finishing his very ambitious, highly dangerous for his psyche, thesis project. Aunt Yu never forgave him for that, not after paying for his advanced classes, not after trusting Uncle Jiang and supporting him despite his many flaws. What good is being first of your class every year, poster child of a teaching system done right, graduating bachelor at 21, if you can’t finish your master at 23 and get your PhD at 25 and start teaching by 27 and drive yourself insane in the process?

Wei Ying dropped out and didn’t finish his master, didn’t enroll in the teaching program, and let everyone down. His Uncle and Aunt looking down on him, whether out of pity or shame. Jiang Cheng may have been the one leaving him behind, but he used to be the one saying “you should have tried harder”. YanLi worrying over him when she should have focused on her career first. Jin Ling growing up with stories of his uncle “not being worth the money put into his education”, taught to not disappoint and make his family proud. The Jin side, that is.

And now the kid comes crawling in defeat to him instead of Jiang Cheng after bombing a test in high school. And they chat of what he would like to do and how much he likes sports and how much he despises the idea of getting a scholarship for that and being called stupid or something by his classmates. And he cries when he thinks Wei Ying cannot see him as he leaves the campus late at night.

Wei Ying didn’t even want to solve that impossible theorem he fixated on in his early twenties. His thesis project was inconsequential in the great scheme of things and his professor only wanted him to be his one trick pony in the end. No. Wei Ying wanted to teach math in elementary school, hell... even in kindergarten. He wanted to change the approach to the subject. Because numbers cannot be taught like language is and there are many ways to teach how to sum up digits and divide quantities and there are no rules on how to make sense of space either.

But how can he teach when even time eludes his senses?

Something that nobody can define, but certainly most perceive as linear... but not him. Not since his brain fried up in his attempt to function like a normal human being.

After thirteen years nothing has changed.

Until one day he hears something else aside from his usual intrusive thoughts and burdensome memories. A melody so quiet he almost mistakes it for the wind, coming from the music building.

He walks slowly, night surrounding him like the embrace of a friend as he makes his way to the traditional musical instruments room. The one where Jin Ling’s friends meet sometimes as they wait for the younger boy to join them. Wei Ying holds his breath as he spies through the gap of the door left ajar, neon light slicing his face like moonbeams as he peeks in and recognizes Jin Ling’s friends and another figure sitting on the ground, guqin on their knees.

But before he can lean in and breathe in the vibrant sounds all around, the door opens and music theory Professor Lan finds Wei Ying clutching his mop for dear life.

They said the man could see colors within the notes, that he despises language outside of his class or office and that only his brother, the history of art TA, could convince him to talk every now and then.

If numbers were created to measure space, Wei Ying firmly believed music had been invented to make sense of time and count its seconds in rhythm and notes, pauses and beats. Yet, time seems to stretch to a stop as the janitor focuses all of his attention on professor Lan’s stern face and his heart quickens its pace.

Wei Ying takes a rushed breath and dives right in with a weird sense of hope pumping in his veins. A small, timid voice whispering that life is not made to be atoned, but to move on and grow.

One step at a time.

“I’m Wei Ying, Professor Lan. May I listen while you play?”

Yes, maybe it will be enough just to let time flow at its pace.

Whatever rhythm that may be.

*

[some hcs down below]

WWX does not magically solve the math theorem. he may or may not help kids figure out how to use numbers on the long run tho. no, he will still work as a janitor and there’s nothing wrong with that.

yes, LWJ is autistic and stimms and finds WWX’s honesty soothing. yes, you can add your hcs on the matter. he has synesthesia, but more on the grapheme-color side of the deal than anything else and he sees certain letters/numbers/notes in different colors. people think he can see colors in music, but they misunderstood and thought he could recognize different hues while listening to music instead of reading it.

JC has grown since his uni years and doesn’t resent WWX anymore. he teaches astrophysics as a TA and doesn’t pressure his brother to pick his studies up anymore. WWX has mixed feelings about this: he feels he’s a lost cause, to the point not even his brother spurs him to best himself anymore, but he is grateful for the patience anyway.

LXC is the official LWJ translator of the campus along with their cousins SiZhui and JinGyi. he bonds with WWX and JC over how tired they are, seldom staring at flies roaming above them in the cafeteria bc none of them can even move. he lives on caffeine and regrets, but he’s getting better as he develops a love for his plant babies and tries to not let them die on a daily basis.

Wen Ning and Wen Qing are little overachievers and adrenaline junkies, hence their competitive streak on their way to their third master degree just for funsies. they scare people with how driven they are, but the juniors love them.

NMJ is the one to go to if you need to get away with murder, but JGY will actually be the one helping you dispose of the body. the fact that they both work in criminal law is somewhat both reassuring and disquieting. they hate each other and yet cannot stop hang out, they are close to 40 and need the rivalry to keep going anyway. nothing beats a good nemesis. not even sex. maybe.

NHS has failed his entrance exam to become a nurse too many times to count, but he is determined to see the end of it. even if he could potentially work in the family business, but he doesn’t know anything about managing an empire of bricks and he doesn’t care. if NMJ could run away, well, so can he.

MianMian is Wei Ying’s bestie and has the biggest crush on JGY’s sister A-Su the kindergarten teacher, but since they are childhood besties she doesn’t know how to approach her. she is Jin Ling’s idol and a certified boxer and refers to herself as a useless bisexual. Wei Ying boxes with her sometimes, she always win.

YanLi is an equestrian mum, but in the best way possible: she coaches children for shows and teaches them horses should be loved and feared equally and that if you want to shoot arrows from a running horse you should always, ALWAYS let go of the stirrups the moment the beast gets too unhinged to ride. JC fears her, WWX is only glad she didn’t train police dogs for a living.

ZiXuan actually loves his wife, but WWX and JC question his career choices and the fact that he’s a retired lawyer spending his family fortune while he’s a stay-at-home dad and does all the housework. WWX and JC believe he should give their sister a better life and work his ass off to deserve her, but he does make amazing rice cakes and keeps up with Jin Ling’s studies and is very supportive of his dreams.

A-Qing and Song Lan are siblings and sometimes bring JC food from the campus cafeteria where they both work at, while Xiao XingChen and his carer Xue Yang work with LXC for a project on accessibility for visually impaired visitors of the local museum. JC and LXC work to make Song Lan and Xiao XingChen fall for each other, but the youngsters are too protective to let them play matchmaker so easily.

[this is all for now. please, if you want, add your own headcanons!]

[sanktnikolais]

Finding the Right One

a/n: So here I am, finally going to post what I’ve been sobbing over for the @grishaversebigbang​. Cheers to being able to participate in this event!!! 

Corporalki: @saygrisha​ 

Materialki (art links): @kayascodelorio​ (here), @sixofdemigods​ (here and here), @flashlamp007​ (here)

Summary: Ravka University’s Golden Boy and Ice Queen—two totally opposite people join forces in finding each other’s “ideal person” for the sake of “finally finding happiness”. Being the head of their department’s student council and knowing each other since their senior years in high school, they both thought that finding the right one for the other would be easy. But it wasn’t as they’d expected.

Could they finally realize that the one they were looking for was already in front of them?

AO3 link

Word count: 4070

PART I   PART II  PART III

The agreement was simple: be on campus before seven for the meeting of the upcoming event of the Engineering Night happening in less than a month.

           Zoya released an exasperated breath as she checked her watch. It was thirteen minutes past seven, and Nikolai was still nowhere to be seen. The said Golden Boy was good at almost everything, but coming on time was never in that list and it made Zoya want to throw at least five alarm clocks at him if it meant getting him up at the right time.

           The two other members were already present in the student council room, the people assigned by the elected president himself. They looked like they were still fighting off sleep as they sat at the opposite sides of the table.

           Genya was holding a cup of coffee in both of her hands, staring at the liquid with narrowed eyes, like she was plotting on how to murder it.

           David had his laptop open in front of him already, squinting from time to time as he continued to type vigorously on the spreadsheet and write on a small notebook on the side.  

           When the final results of the council presidential election were announced, Zoya wasn’t surprised when Nikolai won by a landslide. Besides, who wouldn’t trust the Golden Boy of Ravka University? Consistent dean’s lister, an active member of the music club and the Ravka Dance Crew, and unfairly handsome—just as Nikolai liked to describe himself. 

           It only became a surprise to her when Nikolai had suddenly appeared in front of her at the library, clumsily sitting down and asking her if she wanted to be his vice president.

           Zoya’s first thought was to chuck the book she was reading at his head. 

           But she had remembered that they were in a library and doing the said thought would cause a commotion that was most likely not allowed in the place. 

           At first she thought Nikolai was just messing with her, but his face had shown no sign of mischief—which was quite a rare sight to her—and Zoya realized that he was really being serious about it. He’d told her that there was no one he trusted enough to lead alongside him.

           It took a few short days of convincing before Zoya finally agreed, and she was surprised that the crew Nikolai had handpicked were their old colleagues. They were nearly inseparable after they’d settled their coordination—like the gears of a well-oiled machine.

           Now she found herself starting the meeting fifteen minutes late because she knew that if they continued to wait for Nikolai, they would probably be late for their Monday classes. 

           “Well, since our golden president is still not here, I’ll do the honors.” Zoya took a swig of coffee from the small thermos in her hand, pulling the portable whiteboard at the head of the table, its squeaking wheels echoing throughout the room. “David, status report.”

           She held a hand out, and Genya quickly tossed her a marker. 

           David gave his chin a scratch before looking up from his laptop. “Let’s start with the things still needed to do,” he said, then he was enumerating the things he had written on his list. 

           Zoya proceeded to write it on the board, slightly appalled that there still were several tasks left needed to be done, two which were crucial and must be on priority. 

           “I’ve already talked to the head of the facilities,” Genya added, finally looking up from her coffee. “They said that it was already approved that they would let the setting up of the stage at the center of the track oval.”

           “Thank goodness that’s out of the list.” Zoya let out a huff, and then she remembered what she had done for the requirements to be done. “I’ve run the permits and completed it a week ago. They said they’d get back to me in a few days. I swore to the saints in heaven if they still wouldn’t have given me any updates tomorrow, I would shove their foot up their asses.

           Genya let out a laugh. “Well, what do you expect? It’s Ravka.” 

           The door barged open, and someone appeared at the threshold. All heads turned to the doorway as the blonde boy stood still and stared back at them.

           Zoya raised a brow and eyed the wall clock at the opposite side of the room. “You’re late.” She gave her best cold expression that she was known for, which always left most people cowering back or visibly shaken, but Nikolai had always been immune to it. “It’s seven-twenty.”

           Nikolai gave her a grin, and Zoya wanted to throw the thermos she was holding at him. “I’m the president. You’re just early,” he replied.

           Zoya erased her previous thought. She’d kill him instead. 

           Nikolai must have sensed her deadly idea because he laughed lightly, raising both of his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m joking. I’m sorry for being late. Shall we continue in bad-mouthing our dear Ravka?” He turned to Zoya and mouthed something to which she understood as, My insomnia sucks.

           She felt her small irritation dissipate as she eyed Nikolai settling his bag in the shelf at the far corner. True enough, the dark circles under his eyes were proof of his restlessness. His sleeping disorder often slipped from her mind—though she had witnessed how it affected him during the nights it was at its peak. 

           Bombardment of memes at one in the morning, when Zoya was still up finishing her lab reports or reviewing for a test, the constant sound of a message being received echoing through her room. 

           Or the sudden calls in the middle of the night where Nikolai mostly asked or told her any random shit he’d think of until Zoya would hear him snoring softly in the background before she ended the call and went back to sleep. 

           “Confirmation about the guest band we’ve planned to invite?” David asked, snapping Zoya out of her thoughts.

           “I’ve talked to them yesterday, and they confirmed already,” Nikolai answered as he put his glasses on.

           “So that’s two crucial things down,” said David, crossing out on the page of his notebook.

           Zoya clicked her tongue as he started walking towards their table. It caught his attention, and he stopped midway.

           Nikolai met her eyes with a questioning look. She gestured at his shirt, tapping at her chest gently. He raised a brow as he looked at his blue button-down, and winced when he noticed the top two buttons were in their wrong places, leaving the material in a rumpled mess. 

           “Thank you,” he mouthed to Zoya. 

           She only shrugged, but she was actually fighting a ghost of a smile twitching its way to her face. 

           More than an hour later, their meeting finally adjourned with things looking good for them, and just in time for the start of Nikolai and the twins’ first class of the day. The siblings had already gone from the room, as well as David who still needed to consult for his thesis.

           “By the way, I’m still talking with one of the sponsors. Still quite hesitant, they are, and not that easy to charm,” Nikolai told the two girls just as he was about to exit the room. “I’ll update you about my friendly chat with them as soon as possible.” 

           Genya nodded. “You got it.”

           “Hey, Lanstov.” Zoya paused for a second before grabbing the thermos she had set on the table some time earlier. She tossed it to Nikolai, who caught it with surprising ease. “It’s coffee. You need it more than me.”

           Nikolai stared at her, to the thermos, and then back at her. His face gave mixed reactions at once—but it was mostly shock. “Wow, I think this is the first time you shared your holy drink with me.” 

           “Don’t get used to it.” 

           The smile he gave her was fond, and he raised the container in a toast-like fashion with a matching wink. “Thanks, my ruthless truffle.” Then he was out of the room. 

           Zoya just shook her head and went back to arranging the small stack of paper in front of her, her brows creased into a slight frown. It was when she felt a weight in the air did she look up from her work and she saw Genya staring at her, amusement evident on her face.

           “What?” 

           “So when are you two going to date?” asked the redhead.

           Great, here we go again. “I’ve told you for like a million times,” Zoya said exasperatedly, setting a tired hand on a table, “I don’t date.” When Genya still didn’t look convinced, she added, “At least not anymore.”

           The other girl laughed. “’My ruthless truffle’? It’s already given that Nikolai loves making nicknames for everyone but he only calls you that,” Genya said. “We all know he worships chocolate truffles.”

           Zoya snorted. “He calls me that because he knows I don’t like truffles.” It was actually true, but Genya didn’t seem to buy it. Nothing would ever convince her.

           “Oh, really?”

           “Alright, where’s this conversation going?” 

           “I don’t know, where do you want it to go?”

           “Genya,” said Zoya, her voice tired, “it’s never going to happen.”

           And it was the truth. Nikolai deserved better—the world, even. The boy was full of light and purity and optimism; he always saw the good in everything and it was only one of the many things that made him all-Nikolai. 

           He was the Golden Boy, all in heart and nature, and Zoya was surprised he’d stayed close with her throughout the years after the disaster back in their senior year in high school. Even more when they both enrolled at the same university, and in the same major, resulting in them being always together. And thanks to that, there were some rumors circulating in their department about them being a thing. 

           She would never know what made him trust her, despite the rough nature and sharp tongue that she had. Nikolai saw all of who she was, and he didn’t mind one bit.

           But who was she? The famous Ice Queen. The one who could make people shrink back with the mere raise of an eyebrow. Merely thinking of that fact would already make the thought Genya wanted unrealistic, and it would stay that way.

           Zoya intended to make it stay that way.

           “I’ll be staying at the library for the meantime. Probably until the next class at eleven.” Zoya pushed the stack of papers to the side and pinned it down with the puncher. “Message me if you need anything.” 

           She gave the redhead a half-hearted smile before she was out of the room. 

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

Nikolai thought his day couldn’t get any better. At times when he was proven wrong, he’d gladly accept it and find it rather amusing that he had actually made a mistake. 

           But when he wasn’t able to attend his Numerical Methods class due to some apparent reason, he realized that he didn’t particularly like this day to be proven wrong.

           First was his day starting early—as early as one in the morning when he was hit with the restlessness of his mind for the nth time. He had actually itched to call Zoya again, but he remembered that he had already done that just a few nights ago when he was in the same state, so he decided to read the upcoming lesson of their major instead. That resulted in him falling asleep sometime past five, and waking up late for the council meeting he set at seven.

           Their dreaded Thermodynamics midterm exam was moved from Friday two weeks from now, to Monday at least three weeks from now, and Zoya had been cursing all throughout the time they made their way to that class until it started. She had been berating the fact that it was going to be very late for a midterm examination as it was already nearing to the finals week.

           Halfway through the said major subject, their professor had given them a surprise quiz which literally came out of nowhere, and Nikolai’s still sleep-deprived mind was only able to comprehend and answer half of the questions. It ended up with Nikolai and Zoya drinking yet another cup of coffee from the cafeteria after class while talking—debating—about their own answers, and the people within earshot probably thought they were arguing. 

           Later when Zoya left for her part-time job at a coffee shop a few blocks down, Nikolai found himself in their student council room and he decided to get a shut-eye for a while before his two remaining classes. 

           He didn’t expect that his body would betray him despite the alarm he set on his phone beside him.

           It was David who found him passed out on a chair by the window and had to kick his leg a few times to wake him up fully. Nikolai was thankful of the fate that brought David to the council room and woke him, otherwise he was sure he’d be able to sleep until saints know when.

           Though the catch was the time on his phone being 16:30 when Nikolai checked it groggily and it was like a big slap to the face because he had a math class at three. 

           “You have to take care of yourself more, Pres,” David had said, and Nikolai couldn’t help the grateful look had appeared on his face. The other man wasn’t someone with many words, yet he always spoke the right ones. “Make sure you sleep properly tonight.” 

           I wish I could tell that to my insomnia, he thought to himself as he sent a salute to David’s way with a grin. “I’ll try, Dr. Phil.” 

            David only shook his head with a light laugh before waving goodbye and going his own way. 

           Nikolai gave a long sigh as he currently made his way to the expanse of the parking lot at the side of the university, almost dragging himself across to where he parked his old Buick muscle car before his body gave out in exhaustion. It was only a quarter past seven, but he could already feel the want of sleep coming his way.

           The universe must have been angry with him today for an unknown reason because it chose the right time to start raining heavily. 

           It took him a minute to remember where he parked his car and made a beeline towards it. Nikolai was already drenched by the time he reached the forsaken car and practically threw himself inside. 

           He tossed his bag in the backseat and removed his button-down, throwing it in a heap on the passenger seat. His gray undershirt was almost black from being drenched in the rain, and Nikolai could already feel the coldness seeping in from the damp material. Plus, his glasses were blurry with droplets that stuck on the lenses. 

            It was too easy to believe that the universe and fates didn’t favor him today, and they both decided to throw shit at his way.

           With a small chuckle over his thoughts, Nikolai pulled out from the parking lot and drove out of the campus. He reached over to his glove compartment and silently prayed that he had the spare towel stashed in there, otherwise he’d most likely catch a cold by tomorrow. 

           It was the first favor the day did to him when he was able to grab hold of the material.

           “Thank the heavens,” Nikolai mumbled, violently drying his hair and neck with a hand as he turned right towards the main intersection. 

           The rain only seemed to get heavier and the wipers had to be continuously turned on to maintain a visible view of the road in front. He slowed to a stop by the intersection and waited for the light to turn green. 

           Nikolai wiped off the water from his glasses as he took the time to think about what he needed to do, but his mind only seemed to scream “sleep” and he knew it was the only thing needed to be done for tonight. Or probably drink a nice cup of coffee again. 

           He slipped his glasses back on just in time to see the stoplight signaling ‘go’ and he stepped on the gas. 

           As Nikolai kept a minimal pace with the other cars near him, the bus stop by the other side of the intersection came into view. He squinted against the bright lights of the cars and lampposts combined, and his eyes caught a familiar figure by the shed.

           She was supposed to be home at this time. 

           Pulling into a stop by the curb, Nikolai rolled the window by the passenger’s seat down and bowed his head a little to look through. He flashed her a grin. “Need a lift, truffle?” he called out through the rain.

           He was rewarded with a deep scowl as she bent down in level with his window. Zoya’s eyes widened for a bit when a look of recognition dawned upon her face. She was already soaked despite the roof of the bus stop over her. “Nikolai?” 

           “The one and only.” 

           Zoya gave him a puzzled look. “What are you doing here?”

           “I have class until seven, remember? And I happened to spot you when I passed. You’re going to get sick. Get in, I’ll drive you home.” 

           Nikolai saw a flash of relief on her face as she jogged towards the passenger door and got inside in a hurry. He pulled from the curb and started to drive, offering the towel from his head to Zoya. She grabbed it with a muffled thanks and threw the button-down he left at the seat earlier to him.

           “The bus must have been stuck somewhere. I’ve been waiting for half an hour already,” Zoya muttered as she dried her hair roughly. She looked weirdly at the towel. “This smells like it’s been in a cramped space for a while and mixed with the scent of your shampoo.”

           Nikolai wrinkled his nose. “It actually was. Take it or leave it, Nazyalensky.”

           “I have no choice, do I?” 

           “Yep, don’t have any.” He paused as he took a U-turn and went back the way he came from. Zoya lived in the much quieter part of the city, and it was on the opposite side of where Nikolai was staying at. “Wasn’t your shift supposed to be done at five? It’s already half past seven.” 

           “A co-worker had an emergency and needed to go right away. Volunteered to cover up until the next came in.” Zoya reclined the car seat and leaned back more comfortably, her face obscured by the towel. “And I still have some shit to do.”

           Nikolai chuckled. “Such a hardworking and selfless passenger I have here. Ravka is blessed to have you.”

           “I’m going to kick you for that,” Zoya muttered, words muffled by the towel still over her face. 

           “What? I’m just stating the truth.”

           “Focus on the road, Lantsov.” 

           “Harsh.”

           “Being careful.”

           Nikolai gave a light laugh and shook his head. Their exchanges could go like this for hours, and neither of them would mind. Some people still couldn’t imagine them working together for the council, all because of their known opposite personalities, but it’s actually what made it easier.

           It was just as easy as breathing. 

           He had known Zoya for years, and Nikolai surely knew that he trusted this woman with his life.

           A comfortable silence followed soon after, nothing but soft sound of the rain bouncing on the roof could be heard. He appreciated some certain times like this—it helped quiet the roaring thoughts in his head that were the main reason for his restlessness at night. There were times he wished he could just cure the sleeping disorder he had in a flash, make the thoughts and anxiety over his responsibilities disappear. The weight of it was dragging down any strength and optimism Nikolai had left in him, but he still managed to keep himself upright.

           And he knew he had to thank the people around him for keeping him sane.

           The number of cars on the road lessened to a few when they finally turned to the quieter part of the city, and Nikolai saw the familiar landmarks near the apartment complex Zoya was living at. Thankfully the rain had finally stopped in the area, and he didn’t have to squint through the rain to know which roads he’d turn at.

           The aforementioned woman bolted upright from her seat, the sudden movement startling Nikolai that he almost lost control of the steering wheel and his heart almost leaping out of his throat. She removed the towel from her face and frowned at him, as if she was contemplating to punch him or murder him.

           “Shit, Zoya. What the fuck.” Curse words were often Zoya’s thing, but when he was caught off guard, he’d definitely not mind to adapt to the idea of cursing. 

           Nikolai sent a disbelieving look her way, though he ignored the part where he saw a stray hair clinging to her cheek, and the urge he had to tuck it back behind her ear because it definitely wasn’t the reason he looked away quickly. 

           “Don’t do that.”

           “I just remembered something.”

           “Can you remember something and not give me a heart attack at the same time?”

           Zoya’s frown remained. “David told me he found you passed out in the council room earlier.” 

           “I just took a nap.” 

           “Until four-thirty? You have a math class at three.” 

           Nikolai felt like a dog backed into a corner. He had no other excuse to that, so he settled for the deflecting method he always did. “Don’t worry, someone from the class told me that they just did a few more complicated examples of the previous lecture. It’s nothing I can’t do.”

           He made a right turn, and the apartment complex was already in view. Nikolai drove a bit faster than he already was, and he could still feel the weight of Zoya’s gaze on him. 

           “Well, home sweet home.” He put the lights on hazard and pulled by the curb. When he finally looked her way, he found that she still had the deadpan look on her face, an eyebrow raised. “Okay, okay. I’m not doing anything later. I swear to the saints. I’ll try to get some sleep.”

           “Why didn’t you call me last night?” 

           Nikolai opened his mouth to answer, only to close it again when he doubted the reply he was about to say. He looked away with a dry laugh. “Well, I figured I’d disturbed you enough in the past week.”

           Zoya huffed. “Come on, you can do better than that. You could’ve made it two consecutive weeks.” A short pause. Then Nikolai felt a hand on his arm, the sudden contact startling him, and he was forced to look at her blue eyes. “But really, call me if you need to. I barely sleep too, anyway.”

           “Wow. I think this is the first time you’re not wanting to disown me or throw me into a ditch. I’m a bit taken aback.” He actually was, truly, and Zoya just scowled at him as if she were offended. He chuckled and raised an arm up in surrender. “I’m quite aware of the fact don’t worry.” Then he smiled softly, patting her hand on his arm and adding, “Thank you, Zoya. I owe you one.”

           The raven-haired woman narrowed her eyes at him. “You owe me tons, Lantsov,” said Zoya, smirking triumphantly. She tossed him back the damp towel. “And I’m planning on collecting those debts with caffeine or anything that would equal the favors.”

           Nikolai could only laugh at the turn of events, though he was thankful for the sudden shift, and they were back to their usual banter again. “Will I be paying them for the rest of my life?”  

           “Definitely.” 

           “Pity me.” 

           Zoya opened the door and stepped out. “Thanks for the lift, by the way. Be careful on your way back,” she said before closing it. 

           Nikolai pulled the window down. “Wait, is this counted as a paid debt?” he called out just as she entered the main doors of the building. He was only given a solid thumbs-down and another smirk.

           “Dream on, Lantsov.”

*****

Please welcome, our favorite idiots. lmao

Thank you for reading. One big shoutout to my gangmates! <3 </i>

[ratchedspeach]

Can you write a one shot about Cat and Jade being cute and in love?

Oh who am I to say no to this! Get ready for fluff with a lil bit of angst (cause I’m still me teehee) … In which Cat hates studying, and Jade has had way too much coffee

La Lune et Les Etoiles

In which Jade is an insanely passionate student, and Cat is not.

She might be the only person Cat knew that loves finals week. Jade sat cross legged on a chair, her purple-streaked curls pulled into a messy ponytail and her eyes trained on the novella La Salle de Bain by Jean-Philippe Toussaint. She had dragged Cat there to help her do research for their French final, which Cat had agreed to after enough threats to her immediate bodily safety from her morbid but mostly harmless friend. Cat hated finals - hated school in general, really, which only made her hate being in the Hollywood Arts High School’s surprisingly dull library past 1:00 in the morning on a Friday night that much more.

“Are you planning on actually reading it?” Jade inquired, taking a sip from her fourth cup of coffee since they’d been there, but never looking up from her own book.

Cat looked at the book in her own hands - Dans La Café de la Jeunesse Perdue by Patrick Modiano. They were comparing the dichotomy of French gender roles throughout the decades by analyzing famous philosophic, literary works. It had been Jade’s idea, obviously, and Cat had only gone along when she’d finally promised that she would write the paper on her own if she would agree to at least help with research.

“It’s in French.” Cat pouted, bending the corners of a few delicate pieces of paper with her index finger.

That got Jades attention. She peaked her eyes out from behind her already half-finished book, quirking an eyebrow. “So?”

“I speak English.”

“Cat, the project is for our French class.” Jade addressed, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach when she realized she knew exactly where this conversation was going.

Cat nodded, adding an airy “yeah.”

“We ... It’s supposed to be in French.” Jade folded the corner of her page down before placing the book on the desk separating the two of them. “Can you ... do you not ... Cat, please tell me you can actually speak - oh forget it.” She placated, bringing her thumb and index finger to clamp down on the bridge of her nose.

“I’m sorry,” Cat spilled, “I tried to tell you that I wasn’t very good at this.”

“Cat,” Jade cautioned, her eyes burning with an amalgam of frustration, and what Cat could only explain as ... humor...? “this is an upper level literature course. One of the requirements is speaking French. How did you even get in!?”

It earned them a hush from the librarian, which earned her Jade’s loudest, most melodramatic groan. This was all just getting to be a little too cliche for her. She had agreed to be partners with the red head because out of everyone in that class, she was the person that Jade hated the least. She had known that it would mean doing the bulk of the work - not because she thought Cat wasn’t smart; as a matter of fact when she applied herself, Jade was often shocked at what the girl had to say. No, rather she knew because she had seen Cat’s performance throughout the semester, thus knew how much she struggled with the language. She just ... hadn’t realized the full extent of it.

Cat bit her lip, averting her own gaze from the brooding girl across from her. “You sounded excited when I said I was gonna be in it. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Okay, first of all, nothing excites me.” Jade griped, ignoring the color that rose in her pale cheeks. “And second of all, I wouldn’t have told you to take it if I knew you couldn’t actually speak French!”

Cat’s usually sunny features drew into a childish glower. “You were excited.”

“Excitement is for man children.”

“Sikowitz is always excited.”

“Point and case.” She gloated with a smirk.

Jade could hold a grudge against anyone, but when she harrumphed softly, crossing her pink sweater adorned arms across of her stomach, her smiled tugged a little harder at the corners of her mouth. There was no use being angry with Cat - it was like trying to be upset with rain for falling - it didn’t know better, and neither did she.

“Look, it’s fine.” Jade sighed, rolling her eyes and pulling her hair out of the ponytail. “I’ll do the project, and Mme. Chopain doesn’t need to know a thing. I promise.”

Jade tossed her now loose curls over her left shoulder, bringing her fingers to massage the roots of her hair and tussle them softly. Cat watched, her warm caramel eyes fixed on they way her fingers skillfully moved through her dark locks. It did not go unnoticed by the goth, who felt something in her stomach flutter. She took a deep breath, pulling her fingers out of her hair and bringing both hands to cup her now lukewarm coffee mug. The library had a small vending machine which dispensed one dollar cups of the stuff, and while it wasn’t to the standard of the countless artisanal shops in the LA area, it was enough to keep her wired, and that’s all Jade really cared about.

“Thank you.” Cat intoned, the last of her pout melting away back into a sheepish smile. 

Jade watched the redhead, a flash of something warm streaking through her eyes before they settled into her usual, deliberate glare. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment as though she were about to say something, before shrugging slightly and burying her nose back in the text.

“What?” Cat queried, leaning in across the desk and placing her chin gently on her folded arms. 

Jade bristled slightly. “Nothing.” She snapped. “I’m just stressed now, that’s all.”

The other girl studied her for a moment, because it wasn’t anger she sensed in her. It was … something else. Cat worried her bottom lip between her teeth, continuing to examine Jade, who had noticed her interested, which only made the color in her cheeks rise further.

“You’re being weird.” Cat noticed airily, twisting a few pieces of hair between her fingers.

Jade’s brow furrowed. “I am not!” She exclaimed, earning her another shush from the after-hours librarian. “Shush me again, and I’ll strangle you with your dollar store wig!”

They were kicked out of the library immediately, much to Cat’s delight. The Hollywood Arts parking lot stretched drearily in front of them - a fresh blanket of mist causing it to glint in the early morning light. Cat checked her pear phone for the time. 3:13 a.m. She rubbed at her eyes before glancing at Jade, who was rummaging through her cluttered backpack for the keys to her yellow VW Bug (It would never not make Cat giggle a little to see the otherwise monochrome girl in her all-too vibrant, all-too girlie car).

“I can drive you home if you want.” Cat offered as Jade threw her bag on the ground in a fit of frustration and what she could only assume was coffee-induced adrenaline.

Jade didn’t respond. It was now her turn to press the palms of either hand to her eyes, heaving a low sigh as she sat on the curb, her legs stretched onto the empty street. Cat bit the inside of her cheek, uncertain of whether that was supposed to be a yes or a get the hell out of here. She chose to assume the former, mimicking the other girl’s movement, and sitting delicately next to her. Jade shifted slightly as she felt her friends hip graze her own when she sat down.

Cat noticed. 

“Planning on sleeping here?” She asked, only half joking, before adding, “I think my cot is still in the attic.”

Jade smiled softly. “Well I can’t sleep.” She admonished, pulling her hair back into the ponytail she had started the night in. “Too much coffee. So I might as well…”

“What?”

Jade shrugged, but didn’t respond, because honestly, she wasn’t sure. She was too tired to study, and too wired on black coffee to sleep. She hadn’t planned on getting kicked out of the library. Come to think of it, she hadn’t exactly planned on doing the work of a two-person AP French Lit exam all on her own. Jade felt the tension in her chest grow as her breath hitching dangerously in her throat, and apparently so did Cat, because before she could process what was happening, the redhead was pulling her head onto her shoulder, stroking the goth’s hair, and apologizing.

“I should’ve told you I couldn’t speak French.” Cat whispered.

She smelled like a mix of peppermint and lavender, and it made whatever anxiety was bubbling in Jade’s stomach almost completely disappear. “It’s ok.” She whispered as her breath came back to even. “I should’ve known better than to think you did.”

Cat giggled, and Jade matched her, pulling her head off of her shoulder to meet her gaze. Their laughs dissipated into a heavy silence. Cat watched as Jade’s smile fell into an uncertain glower, the light behind her eyes glinting with a mixture of deviance and … could that be … Is she scared? Cat thought, before something flared in her mind.Oh shit. Am I? Cat thought she should look away - thought that holding the gaze of her fickle friend could only lead to empty, but still terrifying threats of violence. She knew Jade.

Or … so she thought.

It caught her completely off-guard, therefore, when what came from Jade’s lips wasn’t incitements of bodily harm, when it wasn’t anything coming from them at all, but when it was just … her lips - soft, and gentle, and tasting of rose-tinted lip balm. Cat’s eyes went wide for a moment before a flood of warmth starting from her mouth and radiated through her body, and her eyes closed and she just reveled in it. They sat like that for a moment, Cat’s arms coming across Jade’s shoulders, and Jade’s awkwardly at her side as though she still wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch the redhead.

The kiss lasted no more than a minute. Jade was the one to start it and to end it - pulling away with her eyes still closed like she couldn’t believe that she had just … that she …

“Shit.” Jade breathed, alarm sounding through her entire body. 

Cat watched her, the fingers of her left hand coming up to touch her now lips in disbelief, wide-eyed, and still warm, and wishing that she could kiss her again. “That was …”

“Shit.”

They looked at each other for a moment longer before a smile pinched the dimples on Cat’s cheeks, and Jade’s heart fluttered desperately. It scared Cat a little to see her so uncertain, because it was the very opposite of the behavior that she had come to expect from the brooding teen. She placed her fingertips on the pavement, allowing them to brush against Jade’s, and watching as her lips pursed into a tentative smile that resembled more of a smirk.

“I didn’t know you were …” Cat trailed off when the dark haired girl shook her head.

“I … didn’t really know either.” She admitted, before adding in flustered babble. “I mean, I knew, I just … I … I hadn’t planned on …”

Jade trailed off, bringing the hand not touching Cat’s to smack her forehead as she continued to fight for the right words. The redhead smiled sheepishly, her chest fluttering as she watched the other girl. The smile fell, though, when she saw the tears rimming her lash line as she desperately tried to blink them away.

“J-Jade…?” Cat pulled her hand fingers to fully lace between her friend’s (if she could still really call her that).

“My parents don’t know.” Jade whispered, sucking in a sharp, shuddered breath.

“Neither do mine.”

“Beck doesn’t know.”

“… oh.” She’d forgotten about him.

They sat in silence for a moment, Jade still holding back tears, and Cat watching her like she might disappear altogether if she so much as blinked. Their fingers stayed entangled, both of them grasping onto the other like it was the only thing grounding them to earth. Jade felt like she was flying as the mixture of angst and utter joy jumbled in the pit of her stomach. She had never thought about what her first kiss with a girl would be like. She had always known that she wanted to have one, but she hadn’t expected it to be so … gentle, so exquisitely delicate and easy. Jade realized that a large part of that had to do with who she was kissing. Cat - all smiles and sunshine and utter bliss. Jade wished it could be simple, wished so desperately that they could just kiss and have it mean nothing more, but she knew it couldn’t be left at just that. Cat, on the other hand, blinded by her positive (dare Jade say … naive?) outlook on the world, was over the moon and nothing more. Jade envied her for that.

“There’s a saying in French,” She changed the subject, eyes still fixed on the empty school lot, “la lune et les etoiles tout ensemble.” 

Cat had never heard her speak French, and it took her breath away - the way the words flowed and flickered between her teeth, and the expulsion of breath that perfected her accent.

“What does it mean?” She asked blithely.

Jade looked at her, eyes ablaze with too many different things for Cat to comprehend. She wondered how someone could feel so many things at once, how she could fit everything into her slender frame.

“The moon and stars all in one.” Jade smiled faintly, perhaps even a little sadly, before placing her head once more on the other girl’s shoulder.

Cat didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t, welcoming the contact and the warmth that once more radiated throughout her body. They sat like that until dawn, watching the stars fade into the glow of morning, and letting the rest of the world slip away.

At least for a little while.

[marquis1305]

The Language of Flowers

A commissioned fic for the amazing @le-mooon, gifted by the wonderful @tessa1972 

This fic is inspired by this amazing art right here done by Le-mooon. AO3 link

Hawke x Anders, Flower Shoppe/Professor AU

------------------------- The funeral was this evening. I had taken the time to tidy my ever unruly hair, as much as it could be tidied. The lines of my black silk suit stark and neat, mother would have been proud. 

Even as she would have hated the Kaddis that I smeared over the bridge of my nose. She had always hated it, said it made me look too much like a dog lord.

Say that the to mabari at my side. 

Maybe she had a point.

I shifted the sunglasses on my face as I headed for the door, a cup of coffee in my hand. I just needed to stop by the office to drop off the papers that I had graded last night. It didn’t matter that the head of my department had told me to take the week off, those kids were counting on that grade to be entered. I hated letting anyone down. Especially them. Especially after mother…

The walk was an easy one. I lived on campus after all, the professor pads weren’t too terrible, and the rent was cheaper than anything else in Kirkwall. Dragon padded along beside me, tongue lolling as he obviously considered the weight that the day held. Meaning he was looking at the young man kneeling on the sidewalk and slipping something that might have been a tuna sandwich to a stray cat. 

Or more to the point he was looking at the sandwich. 

Maybe I was the one looking at the young man. 

It took a moment before I could gather up the breath to whistle and get Dragon’s attention, forcing myself to tear my gaze away. We had things to do. Now wasn’t the time for my head to wander. No matter how much nicer it would have been to let my thoughts linger on the way the man wore his jacket, or the way that the raven feathered lining of the hood contrasted with golden wheat colored hair, or how honey colored eyes beamed with affection down at the tabby. 

I cleared my throat as we passed him, keeping my head down. My gaze on my shoes. Watching as I put one foot in front of the other. Watching each step that brought me closer to saying goodbye to the woman that raised me. That praised me each and every time I brought home some certificate of achievement. Who scolded me for staying out too late with my latest fling, or for sneaking out with the Bethany and Carver to get them drunk for the first time at my high school graduation.

To the woman who had loved each of us more than life itself, especially after we had lost dad.

Time blurred, and suddenly I was standing in my office. Fading into focus on the leather carrier bag as I took it off my shoulder. Pulling out the stack of graded papers to leave on my desk, Merrill would make certain that those were passed out during class. 

She was a good bean.

And if she forgot, then Varric would probably remember, considering that half the lesson plan I had left to help him sub for me was going over those papers. Of course he was just as likely to get distracted by the telling of some story or another. 

Well, there was always class next week to properly go over them. The funeral wouldn’t last forever. Even if it felt like it would. 

I slipped a finger into the tie about my neck, trying to tug it just loose enough that I would be able to breathe again. Swallowing past the sudden tightness of my throat. The raw pressure building behind my eyes.

It had been like this since I had gotten the phone call from the sheriff’s office. The way that everything would just bulldoze over me at once. 

And then the way that it would rush over me like a wave, calm waters on the other side before the next build. I rode it out, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. Dragon pressing his weight into my hip. It was his warmth that calmed me. The soft whines that brought my attention of the crashing sound at my ears. Lifting a hand slowly to scratch along his head. Letting him know that I was alright again.

Best idea that Aveline had ever had, emotional support Mabari. Got Dragon certified the next day, so he could stay on campus with me. Something to do with ptsd and anxiety attacks, and how his mutt nose could sniff out the symptoms, calm me before they happened most of the time. 

Or bring me out of it, like now. 

Smiling down at Dragon, I nodded, then moved to lock my carrier bag into my desk. Only pulling out my wallet and keys, I wouldn’t need the rest of it for the next few days, and not having it in my apartment would help keep my mind off work. I hoped. 

The walk off campus was much more difficult. I would be arriving early, I had to. Greeting everyone, accepting condolences. Bethany and Carver wouldn’t make it from the airport until later, and I was expected to pick them up. Luckily they were sharing a hotel suite, so I wouldn’t have to deal with Carver’s endless bickering, or Bethany’s tears. 

I was a shitty older brother sometimes. But right now I barely had the strength to keep moving. 

Dragon’s barking drew me once more from my brooding. Turning my gaze up to see the same tabby from earlier. Or it looked like it. The coloring was similar. My brow furrowed as I glanced around. We were near the university’s shop center, which was as quietly thrumming with life as usual. A few simple stores lined either side of the street. A coffee shop that was more tempting than it should have been; yet another used book store; a grocery store; and on the very corner of the street, a small flower boutique. 

The tabby was curled up near the door, looking rather unperturbed by the foot traffic that passed it by. Not entirely unusual for the cats that thought they owned the campus, but to see it twice in just a few hours…

With a heavy sigh, I gave into the urge. 

I needed flowers for today anyways, just thought I would end up buying them later on. Well, no time like the present. 

Dragon stayed close to me as we approached the shoppe, though I could feel the way he would occasionally twitch at the thought of a cat chase. But he was too well trained to just go bolting off, thankfully. I gave him the command to stay outside, making sure he was on the opposite side of the door of the cat. Watching carefully as he laid down, gaze locked onto the stray. 

The sound of a bell tinkling warned any inside of their imminent doom with my arrival.

A pair of honey colored eyes glancing up from the counter had me stopping in my tracks. Blinking as I tried to convince myself that I hadn’t had a complete mental break down and started hallucinating overly attractive men.

His hair was half pulled up into a bun to keep it from his face while he worked, jacket exchanged for a green grocer’s apron, which exposed the white button up I hadn’t had the chance to notice earlier. A daisy tucked just behind his ear on one side. 

He was half bent over the start of a flower basket of some kind, and obviously waiting for me to say something as I attempted to shake myself from my sudden stupor. 

“I ah… flowers!” I blurted out, trying to say anything that would break the silence.

“Yes, I do believe that we sell those here.” His lips quirked up in a wry smile that had me seeing stars. “Was there any particular flower? Or will any of them do?”

I let out a surprised laugh, feeling more at ease for the joke. Clearing my throat as I ran a hand through my hair. “I was looking for a bouquet actually.”

“Is it for any particular occasion? Are we talking ‘romantic first date’ bouquet, or ‘I’m sorry I forgot our anniversary again, please don’t make me sleep on the couch again’ type bouquet?” The quip coming as easily to his lips as the smile had before it. 

“Actually, it’s for my mom.”

He blinked, caught slightly off guard with the answer before he was standing straighter, wiping his hands clean on his apron. “Oh… well, we’ve got a few bouquets of daisies that are always popular. A few yellow roses. Is there anything in particular that she prefers?”

I chuckle softly, shrugging. “She always had a thing for white lillies.”

“Hmm.” He pauses, lips pursing slightly as he heads over to the computer tucked on a back desk. Drawing me further into the room, wanting to keep him in my eyeline. I am a terrible person, and I know it. But he is just… “Well, lillies aren’t really in season right now, we have a few from the greenhouse, but the price has gone up because of it. I don’t have enough for a full bouquet either, but I can make an arrangement if you don’t mind a few other flowers mixed in.”

Pulling out my wallet, I gently toss a card onto the counter. “Anything you can manage, thank you. She just deserves something special.” 

He raises a single brow before nodding. Heading towards one of the refrigeration units. “I have to ask, but you seem really familiar. I’m fairly certain I haven’t seen you in the shop before though.”

“I’m an anthropology professor at the university, you may have sat in on a class or two?” My gaze follows his movements, seemingly unable to tear myself from this magnetic attraction. 

“Right! Fenris had your class a few times, my roommate. I went with him now and then. I remember thinking you were too attractive to teach something as stuffy as anthropology.” A bright peal of laughter fills the room. 

The blush that stained my cheeks was likely bright enough to be used as a lighthouse for lost ships at the harbor. To which my immediate reaction was to turn my attention to the roses that were set up by color. Running my fingers over their petals as gently as I could. 

“Maker.” Forcing myself to snort a laugh. “If you think I am, you should meet Varric. I can say for a fact that we have witnessed women quite literally swoon for his chest hair.”

“Always been a fan of facial hair myself. But beard burn is much more difficult to swoon over.” I could almost hear the wiggling of his eyebrows. I wasn’t sure if the groan that slipped through my lips was entirely due to the terribleness of the joke. At the very least I could pretend that it was and hope he hadn’t noticed. 

“Maker’s ballsack… Right, well…” Chuckling and clearing my throat before glancing over my shoulder. Catching sight of him starting to trim the stems of the flowers he had picked out. Wetting my lips before I was heading back to the counter. “Not really sure I have a counter to that, but it might make Varric cry. Considering how much we all tease him that his beard fell off and stuck to his chest instead.”

His lips pulled up into the most brilliant smile. Laughter following soon after. “Oh… Oh no… I have to tell Fenris that one… He’s going to die…”

Chuckling along with his mirth was easy. It was infectious, how bright he was, how easy the conversation was. 

“Alright so this is going to be fifty gold.” Offering the bouquet over, a beautiful mixture of white lilies, red roses, baby’s breath, pink wax flowers, and greens for filler. 

I suddenly felt reality come crashing down on me. Right, this is why I had been here. Not for the cute guy. “Just put it on the card. Thank you. I know that she’ll love this.” 

Taking the card, he rung everything up. Then handing it and the receipt to me. Allowing me a moment to tuck it away before presenting the bouquet. “Well, I hope you and your mom have a good evening.”

“We usually do.” I offered a smile as I tucked the bouquet into the crook of my arms. “Have a good one then.” Waving as I weaved my way back out of the store, Dragon popping up immediately from where he had sat to follow me. 

I had to say, at least this had been a bright spot in a rather overcast day.

[fortheheavenssake]

💜💜 PG MM Anon(II) 💜💜 Interpretation Collection - 3

13. May 12

MM ANON …… Thrive???………… definitely Malibu ………wear a mask ………… confusing but amusing ……… a question of credibility ……… 🎼 we can be heroes ……🎼…” what ever happened to wrinkle cream?”……… love and hugs to all our anon friends ……… 🎼 now there are three steps to heaven 🎼………… Brave New World ……… a quiet Queen.

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE #13

SORRY IT IS A DAY LATE AGAIN

0935 HRS CST

FOR ENTERTAINMENT ONLY

Thrive???

IN WHAT I BELIEVE, IS HIS THIRD VIDEO APPEARANCE RECENTLY, HARRY CONGRATULATED THE U.K.’S YOUNG PEOPLE FOR NOT JUST SURVIVING BUT THRIVING DURING THE PANDEMIC. HE GAVE SOME VERY ENCOURAGING WORDS. I FEEL THIS IS THE PATH THEY HAVE CHOSEN TO REINTRODUCE OUR HARRY. SLOWLY REINVOLVING HIM, NOTHING LIVE OR IN PUBLIC, BUT VIDEO AND PERTINENT TOPICS. I THIS IS VERY WISE AND GIVES ME EXTREME HOPE!!!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜 VERY MUCH PRESSING, LIKE THE VE DAY VIDEO.

WHAT A JOKE, IN THE VIDEO DONE IN SOUTH AFRICA, MADAM STOLE THE FAMOUS LINE, ONE DOES NOT WANT TO MERELY SURVIVE BUT TO THRIVE, WHICH BY THE WAY HAS BEEN USED BY AN AMERICAN VITAMIN TV AD IN RECENT MONTHS, EVERY TIME IT COMES ON I BURST INTO LAUGHTER…I GUESS IT MAKES ME THRIVE WITHOUT TAKING IT🤣🤣🤣😂😂. SO MADAM IS PR ING HER WAY THROUGH A FAKE LIFE WITH HARRY AND ARCHIFICIAL, WHILE BEING HOSPITALIZED OR PERHAPS DISCHARGED NOW AND BACK TO MIO OR SOMEONE ELSE COUCH. SO PATHETIC, SHE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL, BUT BY ANYONES IDEAS SHE IS JUST BARELY SURVIVING, IN EVERY SINGLE WAY. SO VERY SAD.

definitely Malibu ………

MALBU DUCHESS DINO BARELY? IS THAT THE GOAL? PR ING A BEACH HOUSE AND BEACH VIEW, MANSIONS AND A PLETHORA OF A LIST BESTIES AND OFFERS ROLLING IN??? HMMMM. NOT BUYING IT, NOT AT ALL NO MATTER WHAT PR IS TOSSED OUT AT US.

wear a mask ………… confusing but amusing ………a question of credibility

GUIDELINES GIVEN. BY THE U.K. GOVERNMENT ARE CONTINUING TO BE CONFUSING, IN FACT AT TIME THE PM HIMSELF APPEARED BEFUDDLED. TO BE HONEST, I AM ALSO CONFUSED ABOUT WHERE, WHEN TO WEAR A MASK, DOES IT PREVENT, PROTECT, SLOW DOWN TRANSMISSION. GOOD SOLID HANDWASHING, AVOIDING TOUCHING YOUR FACE AND HAND SANITIZER THOSE ARE MOST IMPORTANT.

IF ONE, IN A ROLE OF ANY OFFICIAL CAPACITY, BE IT PM, HIS CABINET, HEALTH OFFICERS ETC ETC ARE NOT CLEAR, CONCISE, USE LANGUAGE EVERYONE CAN UNDERSTAND AND MAKE SENSE OF, THEIR CREDIBILITY IS CALLED INTO QUESTION OR CAN BE. I SAW THE DM ARTICLE THE OTHER DAY OF PM JOHNSON WALKING, UNMASKED, IN THE PARK WITH A TOSS AWAY COSTA COFFEE CUP, HE WAS CONFRONTED BY WHAT LOOKED LIKE AN ORDINARY CITIZEN, WHO I CANNOT RECALL WHO HE WAS BUT HE WAS SOME BIG CORPORATE GUY, ABOUT THE CONFUSION IN GOVERNMENT MESSAGING REGARDING THE STEPS OF UNLOCKINGDOWN. NEW WORD YEP I MADE IT!

🎼 we can be heroes ……🎼

MM ANON RETURNS TO ONE OF HER FAVES, DAVID BOWIE. THIS SONG CALLED HEROES IS AN OLD ONE BUT GREAT. THIS SPEAKS TO HOW EVERYDAY ORDINARY PEOPLE CAN BE AND ARE HEROES. THINGS WE DO, SEEN AND UNSEEN ARE HEROIC. THIS HAS EXPLODED INTO EVIDENCE PUBLICLY DURING THIS WHOLE PANDEMIC. UNLIMITED AMOUNT OF HEROES DISPLAYED IN EVERY CORNER OF LIFE AND VIRTUALLY EVERY CORNER OF THE WORLD. AMAZING.

…” what ever happened to wrinkle cream?”………

WELL I STILL AM HERE🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂FOR THOSE HERE LONG ENOUGH TO REMEMBER MY SKIN EXPERTISE AND LOVE OF SERUMS AND POTIONS, DISPENSER OF ADVICE.

I THINK THIS TEFERS TO MADAM AND THE DRASTIC ALTERATIONS IN HER FACE WE HAVE SEEN…LOTS AND LOTS OF APPEARING TO BE SURGICAL AND MEDICAL INTERVENTIONS, CAMERA FILTERS FOR SURE. NO, NO ORDINARY SERUMS AND CREAMS COULD TACKLE THE THINGS SHE WANTED DONE. MANY ACROSS THE GLOBE SEEK SURGERY AND MEDICAL INTERVENTION FOR THE SAME REASON. ITS A MULTIBILLION DOLLAR THRIVING BUSINESS AND GROWING. HEY, I LOVE MY SERUMS ETC BUT EVERY ALMOST WRINKLE I HAVE, I HAVE EARNED!!! AGING IS A GIFT, JUST LOOK AROUND SEE YOUNG PEOPLE WITH CANCER OR KILLED IN ACCIDENTS. WITH AGE COMES WISDOM.😊(HOPEFULLY 🤣🤣🤣😂)

love and hugs to all our anon friends ………

THIS IS SO SWEET OF YOU MM ANON, THERE ARE MANY WHO HAVE HAD THEIR ONLINE WORLD SHATTERED RECENTLY. THERE ARE MANY HERE WHO HAVE BEEN HERE FOR HARRY AND OUR BELOVED ROYALS FOR A VERY LONG TIME, TRUTH TELLING, EXPOSING LIES AND ON AND ON. VERY LOYAL INDIVIDUALS INDEED.

🎼 now there are three steps to heaven 🎼…………

OK I HAD TO LOOK THIS UP. OLD SONG BY SHOWADDYWADDY. ITS ABOUT HEAVEN MEANING INTIMACY AND A RELATIONSHIP . FIRST STEP GET A GIRL, SECOND FALL IN LOVE THEN BOOM COMMIT THREE STEPS THEN YOU ARE IN HEAVEN.

ALAS LIFE IS NOT SO SIMPLE , AND WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING ACTUAL HEAVEN HERE. THIS HAS NOT, UNFORTUNATELY FOR OUR HARRY AND MANY OF US, BEEN SO EASY. I PRAY HE IS STILL WITH HIS ENGLISH ROSE AND EVENTUALLY THEY CAN OFFICIALLY BE TOGETHER.

Brave New World ………

STUDIED THIS BOOK IN HIGH SCHOOL, WEIRD CONTROLLED DYSTOPIAN WORLD, WHERE EVERY MOVE WAS PREARRANGED CONTROLLED BY THE GOVERNMENT, VERY MUCH LIKE WHAT WE HAVE BEEN AND ARE LIVING THROUGH,YET COMPLETELY DIFFERENT IN THAT THIS IS FOR LIFE AND DEATH SAKE. CONSPIRACY THEORIES ABOUND, I WILL NOT GO FURTHER. IT WILL BE INTERESTING TO SEE HOW THE UNLOCKDOWN WORKS. I PRAY 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 THAT WE DONT HAVE MASSIVE SPIKES BUT I DO WORRY ABOUT ALL THE CHILDREN THAT GLOBALLY HAVE BEEN GETTING SO SICK.

a quiet Queen.

HMTQ HAS BEEEN ISOLATING AT WINDSOR CASTLE WITH HRH THE DUKE OF EDINBURGH. GIVEN THE AGGRESSIVE NATURE OF THIS VIRUS, ITS EFFECTS ON THE ELDERLY, AND NO TREATMENT OR VACCINE, SHE MAY NEED TO REMAIN THERE INDEFINITELY, UNTIL AN EFFECTIVE VACCINE IS SAFE AND AVAILABLE. I HAVE BEEN READING ABOUT THAT.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

—————

14. May 13

MM ANON …… for saving my mother ……… father ……… grandmother …… grandfather …son ……… sister……… brother……… daughter ………… thank you for saving my life nurse / doctor /……… how can I EVER thank you all ……… from the bottom of my ❣ ……… I can never find the words ……… my gratitude is unending ……… god bless you all. ……… GOD BLESS YOU ALL!! 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

* Entertainment only

Lovely tribute …in riddle form! Thank you! God Bless you!🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

MAY 13/2020

0055 HRS CST

RIDDLE #14

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊😊THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON😊😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

I NURSED FOR WELL OVER 20 YEARS IN VARIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES. I CAN SAY IT TOOK YOUR BODY, HEART AND SOUL, ITS A CALLING, AN ART, I LIVED MY FAITH IN SERVING CHRIST IN THIS I MANNER. I HAVE HAD THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING WITH INDIVIDUALS IN THE WORST MOMENTS OF THEIR LIVES TO HEALING. BUT ALSO THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING WITH PEOPLE WHEN THEY DIED. I MISSED MANY HOLIDAYS, FAMILY TIME, DOUBLE SHIFT AFTER DOUBLE SHIFT. THE MOST REWARDING CAREER EVER. I WOULD NOT CHANGE A THING. DEALING WITH FAMILIES TOO WAS AT TIME EXTREMELY DIFFICULT AND ALSO EXTREMELY REWARDING. IT IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART BUT IF YOU ARE CALLED TO SERVE, JUMP AT THE CHANCE, YOU WILL NEVER REGRET IT. I SALUTE ALL MY FELLOW NURSES HERE ON TUMBLR, THOSE WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE, THOSE SERVING NOW AND THOSE YET TO COME.🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💐💐💐💐

GOD BLESS YOU MM ANON

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————

15. May 13

MM ANON ……… “come on Kate, off to Queens”……… Charlotte goes first……… “George ‘ get your bicycle “……… 🎼bye bye miss American spy🎼……… 🎼listen , do you want to know a secret 🎼……… stay alert 🤣🤣🤣……… trains, planes and automobiles……… driving miss day-see? ……… FOUR!!!! …………… an art gallery,when??……… single prayers please.

Thank you MM Anon.😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE#15

1650 HRS

KIDS I HAVE BEEN OUT OF THE LOOP A BUT NOW SOME FAMILY ILLNESS PREOCCUPYING ME SO, I WILL ALREADY SAY, THIS RIDDLE LOOKS EASY BUT ONLY IF YOU ARE IN THE LOOP!

💜💜💜💜💜I TRIED MY BEST💜💜💜💜💜

“come on Kate, off to Queens”……… Charlotte goes first……… “George ‘ get your bicycle “………

I WONDER IF THIS MIGHT JUST BE, ALTHOUGH THE KATE/CATHERINE THING, BUT I WILL CONTINUE….WITH MORE PUBLIC EXERCISE AVAILABLE NOW OR RATHER OUTDOORS TIME, I WONDER IF THE FAMILY IS HEADING TO QUEENS PARK. CHARLOTTE GOES FIRST ON HER BIKE AND GEORGE BRINGS UP THE REAR AS HE IS OLDER. HOW FANTASTIC WOULD THIS BE? THIS IS PURE SPECULATION ON MY PART OR WISH FOR THEM PERHAPS.

🎼bye bye miss American spy🎼………

OLD SONG BYE BYE MISS AMERICAN PIE, NEIL YOUNG CANADIAN😁😁😁😁🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦. YES APPARENTLY DEAR MADAM HAS BEEN KEEPING A SECRET JOURNAL OF EVERYTHING SHE WITNESSED IN THE ROYAL FAMILY. I THINK THAT IS DISGUSTING. SEEMINGLY IT IS BYE BYE SO…..EMBARGO TIME.??? EITHER WAY, IT WILL NOT HAPPEN. ARE THERE NO DEPTHS SHE WILL NOT SINK TOO?? THE ANSWER IS NO BECAUSE OF SULPHUROUS EVIL SHE SERVES. 👁 👁 👁 👁 👁 HAVE DONE THEIR WORK, EVIDENCE IS IN, AND IT IS NOT LOOKING GOOD FOR THE YANKEE MATA HARI🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHO MATA HARI IS, GO STUDY HISTORY FASCINATING. ARE CHARGES GOING TO INCLUDE NATIONAL SECURITY ISSUES?? I THINK MORE THAN EVER THE STAR CHAMBER AND ITS JUSTICES HAVE BEEN KNEE DEEP IN THIS INFORMATION AND EVIDENCE!!

🎼listen , do you want to know a secret 🎼………

DIDN’T HAVE TO LOOK THIS UP EITHER, THIS IS FROM FROZEN, AS ANY PARENT WILL TELL YOU🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. I AM AUNTIE SO I KNOW IT TOO. THIS APPLIES AGAINS TO THAT BLOODY SECRET JOURNAL OF LIES PROBABLY MIXED WITH VERY PRIVATE INFORMATION DURING HER TIME WITH OUR BELOVED ROYAL FAMILY. EMBARGO!!

ALSO, ANNOUNCED YESTERDAY, THAT HMTQ, THE CAMBRIDGES AND HRH PRINCE CHARLES ARE FREEZING ALL RECRUITMENTS AS THEY CONTINUE TO ISOLATE WITH REDUCED HOUSEHOLD STAFF AT THEIR RESPECTIVE ROYAL.

THE SONG IS FROM THE MOVIE FROZEN……SO FREEZE FROZEN GET THE RIFF??

stay alert 🤣🤣🤣………

AGAIN DIRECTIONS GIVEN FOR THE PUBLIC FOR YEARS NOW STAY ALERT TO ANYTHING UNUSUAL AND REPORT IT IE RELATED TO TERRORIST ATTACKS. BUT THIS HAS LAUGHTER SO IT IS NOT THAT. STAY ALERT TO HOW CLOSE YOU GET TO OTHERS ON A CROWDED BUS WITH TWO METRE DISTANCE BETWEEN EACH PERSON NOT VERY LIKELY IS IT. IT SEEMS ABSURD, CANNOT GO TO ANOTHER HOME BUT CAN GO TO WORK ON CROWDED PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION. ITS THE OXYMORON OF ALL TIME🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

trains, planes and automobiles………

THIS IS A GREAT AGAIN CANADIAN 🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦 FILM STARRING THE GREAT JOHN CANDY🇨🇦🇨🇦🇨🇦RIP. TRYING DESPERATELY TO GET SOMEWHERE USING EVERY AVAILABLE MEANS. WITH THE TUBE OVERCROWDED AND INFECTED, I WONDER IF THIS IS REFERRING TO HOW PEOPLE WHO ARE WORKING IR RETURNING TO WORKING ARE GETTING THERE AND BACK AGAIN.

driving miss day-see? ………

ANOTHER THING NO GOOGLING REQUIRED, RIFF ON THE FANTASTIC PLAY WITH ANGELA LANSBURY, I SAW IT SHE WAS BRILLIANT AND ALSO A FILM ABOUT AN AGING WOMAN IN THE 1950’S SOUTH BEGINNING TO LOSE HER FACULTIES SO HER SON HIRES A CHAUFFEUR TO DRIVE HER. SHE WANTS NAUGHT TO DO WITH HIM. HERE WE HAVE MISS DAY-SEE….SO THIS IS A DAY TRIP TO SEE SOMETHING. WHO IS MISS, CHARLOTTE IS A MISS BUT YOUNG. 🤔 HMMM MISS STACY, WHO IS STACY. OR SOMEONE JUST GETTING OUT FOR A DRIVE BY CHAUFFEUR HMTQ IS NOT A MISS BUTBIT MIGHT BE HER . SORRY KIDS I AM ALL OVER THE MAP GUESSING HERE.

FOUR!!!! ……………

FORE IS A GOLFING EXPRESSION TO WARN A BALL IS IN PLAY AND TO MIND YOURSELF. WHATS THIS WARNING FOUR AND FOUR EXCLAMATION MARKS? GOLLY I WISH IT MEANT CAMBRIDGE BABY NUMBER FOUR. I KNOW I DO CARRY ON SO ABOUT THAT BUT WOULDN’T IT BE JUST MARVELLOUS? I AM CERTAIN WILLIAM MIGHT BE YELLING HELP🤣🤣🤣😂😂, I REMEMBER WHEN HRH PRINCE LOUIS WAS BORN, HE TOOK THE CHILDREN TO SEE HIM, GESTURED ST PHOTOGRAPHERS THREE NOW!!! 👶 👶 👶 🍼

an art gallery,when??………

TWO THINGS HERE, THE FIRST IS THE HOLD STILL, EXHIBIT THAT THE ROYAL PHOTOGRAPHIC SOCIETY IS DOING WITH CATHERINE AS THEIR PATRON. IF YOU ARE UNFAMILIAR, THEY ARE SOLICITING PHOTOS FROM THE PUBLIC FOR EXPERIENCES DURING THE PANDEMIC. I BELIEVE THEY WANT TO WHITTLE IT DOWN TO 100 . MY THAT WILL BE A MONUMENTAL TASK WILL IT NOT? ALSO, TODAY ARTHUR EDWARDS, NOTED ROYAL PHOTOGRAPHER MADE SOME ABSOLUTELY LOVELY COMMENTS ABOUT CATHERINE’S SKILL IN PHOTOGRAPHY AND HOW IT HAS GROWN. MIGHT WE, AT SOME POINT IN THE FUTURE, SEE AN EXHIBIT OF HER WORK? WE LOVE THE PHOTOS OF THE CHILDREN💜💜💜💜💕💕💕💕💜💜💜💜. MY THAT WOULD BE A WONDERFUL EXHIBIT. NATURE SCENES, URBAN, ANYTHING.

single prayers please.

I THINK THIS IS A PLAY ON WORDS, PEOPLE TO WALK SINGLE FILE, WITH PHYSICAL DISTANCING AS MORE MOVEMENT IS ALLOWED, PEOPLE RETURNING TO WORK, SHOP ETC. I FULLY BELIEVE MANY MANY PRAYERS 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 ARE BEING SAID SO THAT THE VIRUS WILL NOT AGAIN CAUSE A MASSIVE SECOND WAVE OF INFECTIONS AS RESTRICTIONS ARE SLOWLY EASED.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you MM Anon.😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

—————-

16. May 14

MM ANON …… school of thought ……… bulldoze in and takeover ……… Braveheart & Boris ………… dead theatre ……… GOT………… Charlotte summer ……… anticipation of antibodies ………… China???………… death of Hollywood ………… 🎼blow a little whistle 🎼………… we have no plan B……… I’m so bored ………… “ we’re gonna need a bigger fence”

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊💜💜

MAY 15/2020

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE #16. 1600 HRS

school of thought ……… bulldoze in and takeover

OH GOOD HEAVENS WHERE DO I START?? MADAM WAS UP TO NO GOOD AGAIN TODAY AND AS USUAL DETAILS KEEP CHANGING. FIRST MADAM AND “H” CRASHED A ZOOM MEETING OF UNION OF TEACHERS, OH WAIT NO, NO NO, NO NO, IT WAS A MENTAL HEALTH WORKERS HOTLINE ZOOM MEETING WAIT TEN MINUTES THE STORY WILL CHANGE YET.

AS PER USUAL THE DETAILS ARE WHERE MADAM HAS EPIC FAILS, THE SIZE OF THE PHOTOSHOPPED HARRY IS NOT IN SYNC WITH HER AND HER POSITION. AS PER HER USUAL SHE CHOOSES THE UNIFORM SHIRT AND THE WORST POSSIBLE FUZZY PHOTO OF HARRY AND SHE IS CRYSTAL CLEAR.

JUST ALLEGEDLY SOMEHOW CRASHED THIS ZOOM MEETING ABD QUITE LITERALLY TOOK IT OVER. MIND YOU MADAM IS AN EXPERT AT TEACHERS, UNIONS, AND MENTAL HEALTH😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣. MY SIDE HURTS FROM LAUGHING.

……… Braveheart & Boris

THE SNP, NICOLA STURGEON AND PM BORIS JOHNSON HAVE HAD THEIR DISAGREEMENTS. WHILE HE WAS ILL SHE WAS QUITE STRONG BUT SINCE HE HAS RETURNED HE HAS ALL BUT PUT HER IN THE PLACE WHERE HE THINKS SHE SHOULD BE. THE BRAVEHEART , WILLIAM WALLACE SCOTTISH FREEDOM FIGHTER. SCOTLAND 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 THE BRAVE…..OH FLOWER OF SCOTLAND 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 . NEEDLESS TO SAY, THERE HAVE BEEN AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE ISSUES. A GREAT DEAL OF SCOTS WANT INDEPENDENCE. THE FUTURE OF THAT WILL E INTERESTING TO WATCH ALSO.

40698985030_fd04d9bfbe_b_1024x1024.jpeg

………… dead theatre

THEATRES CLOSED, MOVIES CLOSED, ETC ETC ETC. THERE IS SO MUCH COLLATERAL FALLOUT DAMAGE, DESTRUCTION, FROM THIS PANDEMIC. IT SEEMINGLY GETS BIGGER DAILY. FEMICIDE IS INCREASING. IN 🇨🇦 7 WOMEN HAVE BEEN MURDERED BY THEIR PARTNERS SINCE THE LOCKDOWN BEGAN. THIS TRULY IS GHASTLY ON AN UNPRECEDENTED SCALE. ALARM BELLS SHOULD BE RINGING WORLDWIDE.

……… GOT…………

GOT GAME OF THRONES….OH HOW I MISS IT😫😫😫😫😫😩😩😩😩😩😖😖😖😖🥺🥺🥺. FEELS LIKE A GAME DOESNT IT BUT ITS REAL, REAL LIVES. REAL HARRY IS BEING DRAGGED ALONG INA FAKE PR RELATIONSHIP. I DO NOT KNOW WHY THIS IS ALLOWED TO CONTINUE, HMTQ MUST HAVE HER REASONS. BUT THE INVOLVEMENT OF THE DUO IN AT FIRST A TEACHERS UNION MEETING GOES AGAINST ROYALPROTOCOL….GOOD HEAVENS HARRY KNOWS THAT…HE IS NOT WITH HER. THEN MADAM MUST HAVE HEARD OR READ THAT, SO THE STORY QUICKLY CHANGED TO A MENTAL HEALTH SUPPORT LINE MEETING.

I AM NOT SURE WHICH CHARACTER SHE WOULD….. BE IN GOT……ONE OF THE NIGHT KING’S DEAD ALIVE MINIONS DOING EVIL METHINKS.

Charlotte summer ………

WHAT WILL OUR LOTTIE BE UP TO? TENNIS LESSONS? WITH MUMMY? OH I AM CERTAIN SHE HAS IDEAS OF ALLSORTS. LOVE HER TO PIECES💜💜💜💜.

anticipation of antibodies …………

THERE HAS BEEN A NEW CONFIRMED MEASUREMENT FOR ANTIBODIES EVIDENT IN SEROLOGICAL TESTING. THIS IS A HUGE BREAKTHROUGH IN TERMS OF TRACKING WHO HAS ANTIBODIES BUT WAS ASYMPTOMATIC. MASSIVE BRILLIANT NEWS.

China???…………

SADLY IN OUR COUNTRY 🇨🇦, ESPECIALLY OUT WEST, THERE HAS BEEN A SPATE OF ASSAULTS, VERBAL ABUSE OF ASIANS, IN CANADA ASIANS ARE CHINESE, ETC. IN THE U.K. ASIANS ARE FROM PAKISTAN, AFGHANISTAN ETC. SAME WORD VERY DIFFERENT MEANINGS, JUST SHARING THE INFORMATION. THERE ARE MANY QUESTIONS ABOUT THE REAL ORIGIN OF THE COVID-19 STRAIN OF THE CORONAVIRUS FIRST EVIDENT IN WUHAN CHINA. HOWEVER, IN SOME EUROPEAN COUNTRIES, UNFORTUNATELY I CANNOT RECALL EXACTLY WHICH, I THINK SPAIN….BUT THEY RETESTED SAMPLES FROM LATE LAST YEAR, AND THEY TESTED POSITIVE FOR THE VIRUS VARIANT. SO THIS WAS OUT EARLIER BUT WHY DIDNT IT SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE THEN? THERE IS SO MUCH UNKNOWN, NOW WE HAVE TODAY CONFIRMATION THAT THESE RASHLIKE SYMPTOMS, SIMILAR TO KAWASAKI DISEASE ARE IN FACT CAUSED BY THIS BASTARD OF A VIRUS.

THERE ARE A MYRIAD OF ISSUES AND A ZILLION CONSPIRACY THEORIES. BUT WE NEED TO GET OUR ACT TOGETHER BEFORE THINGS GET REALLY OUT OF CONTROL.

death of Hollywood …………

NO MORE HOLLYWOOD MOVIES , NO SUMMER BLOCKBUSTERS, NOTHING IN PRODUCTION…..THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. THE NEW HEROES ARE REAL LIFE HEROES, TRUCK DRIVERS, GROCERY STORE WORKERS, SHELF STOCKERS, MEDICAL PERSONNEL, NURSES AND ON AND ON, THERE IS NO UNRINGING THIS BELL 🔔. THE WORLD IS FOREVER CHANGED.

🎼blow a little whistle 🎼…………

CUTE PINOCCHIO SONG ABOUT DOING THE RIGHT THING. A WHISTLE BLOWER IS SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES THEY HAVE INFORMATION THE PUBLIC SHOULD KNOW BUT ITS BEING KEPT QUIET SO THEY GO TO THE MEDIA AND SPILL THE BEANS SO TO SPEAK. THERE IS A WHISTLE BLOWER IN AMERICA ABOUT THE PANDEMIC AND THE PRESIDENT IS FURIOUS. RICK BRIGHT HAS BEEN OUSTED FROM HIS JOB AFTER SAYING THAT BY RESTARTING THINGS TOO FAST AMERICA IS IN FOR A VERY DARK WINTER AND A MASSIVE RESURGENCE OF COVID-19.

we have no plan B………

THERE IS NO PLAN B, I READ THAT THIS MORNING IN THE DM. GOING AHEAD WITH PUBLIC TRANSPORT WHILE STILL SOCIAL DISTANCING YEP OK IN LONDON WHAT?? THE ARTICLE IN THE DM TALKING ABOUT THIS AND PIERS MORGAN INTERVIEW AND ARTICLE REGARDING LONDON MAYOR SADIQ KHAN IS SHOCKING. SUCH UTTER DISREGARD FOR HUMAN LIFE, I AM GOING TO HOLD MY TONGUE NOW.

I’m so bored …………

OH DEARIE ME, I BET MANY CHILDREN ARE SAYING THIS REPEATEDLY, THEIR PARENTS AND FAMILY FEEL THE SAME WAY. BEING ABLE TO GET OUTDOORS MORE NOW MIGHT HELP SOME OF THAT CABIN FEVER PEOPLE ARE EXPERIENCING.

“ we’re gonna need a bigger fence”

JAWS REFERENCE, WE ARE GONNA NEED A BIGGER BOAT 🦈. FENCES SHIELDING HAVE GONE UP AROUND THE MANSION WHERE DINO AND H ARE ALLEGEDLY LIVING THE HIGH LIFE. COVER IT ALL UP, SHE WANTS PRIVACY YET CONTINUES TO FAKE A LIFE WITH HARRY. GOOD HEAVENS HOW LONG CAN THIS GO ON??

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

—————-

17. May 15

MM ANON ……… a lovely surprise ……… sweet Charlotte ……… it’s teaching Jim, ……………”Harry, you know you’ll always have a place “……………”he’s not happy Catherine “ ……… R1………… re-train………… clubbings, clubbed…… Tea-CHING…………… “ yes, that’s a really good question”…………2 metres for ever???………… a rally in Calais. ………… GBHMTQAOGC 🇬🇧🌈🇨🇦

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MAY 15/20

RIDDLE #17

2145 HRS

a lovely surprise ………

YEP, KIDS, I AM GOING OUT ON A LIMB, YET AGAIN…I DO BELIEVE WE ARE GOING TO BE GETTING NEWS OF CAMBRIDGE 👶 BABY NUMBER FOUR IS ON THE WAY. THEY HAVE BEEN PREDICTING A BABY BOOM AS A RESULT OF THIS LOCKDOWN. THE DM HEADLINE OF AN ARTICLE TODAY SAYING A” GLOWING KATE MIDDLETON” AND WILLIAM AS THEY DO A VIDEOCALL TO A MENTAL HEALTH TEXT SERVICE ENTITLED, SHOUT. WHEN PEOPLE ARE EXPECTING, YES I AM OLD FASHIONED AND USE THAT WORD, ARE OFTEN SEEN AND KNOWN TO HAVE A GLOW ABOUT THEM. I KNOW PEOPLE DO NOT LIKE SPECULATIONS BUT I WOULD BE DELIGHTED.😊😊😊

sweet Charlotte ………

OUR SWEET HRH PRINCESS CHARLOTTE JUST CELEBRATED HER FIFTH BIRTHDAY ON MAY 2/2020. AS PER HER USUAL, CATHERINE TOOK THE MOST AMAZING PHOTOS , ESPECIALLY THE PORTRAIT, OH MY SHE IS SWEET AND BEAUTIFUL CHILD. SHE WILL BE A BEAUTY LIKE HER MUM AND A STRONG PERSONALITY LIKE HMTQ. THE LOVELY PHOTOS OF CHARLOTTE DELIVERING HOMEMADE PASTA TO THOSE IN NEED IN HER GREY RUFFLY DRESS, LOVELY. I HAD A RUFFLY DRESS LIKE THAT IN RED PLAID WITH A WHITE SAILOR TYPE COLLAR FOR CHRISTMAS WHEN I WAS IN JUNIOR HIGH, MAYBE , 12 YEARS OLD, OH I LOVED THAT DRESS!!

“it’s teaching Jim, ……………”

HERE OUR DEAR MM ANON IS BRINGING STAR TREK REFERENCE AGAIN, JIM, WAS CAPTAIN JAMES T KIRK, IN THE ORIGINAL STAR TREK TV SHOW. IT IS HARD TO FATHOM THE IMPACT AND SPAWN THAT SHOW HAS BROUGHT IN TV, FILMS, TECHNOLOGY AND IT ONLY RAN THREE SEASONS. REMARKABLE!

MADAM THINKS SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING AND CAN FAKE INTERRUPT A ZOOM MEETING IN A FAKE BACKGROUND. NO TEACHING IS USEFUL AND SHE IS BEYOND BEING RETAUGHT HOW TO TREAT PEOPLE

WHO IS JIM, IN THIS SCENARIO? WHAT IS BEING TAUGHT? LIFE LESSON PERHAPS? OR SOMETHING IS TEACHING JIM HIMSELF, AS THE CAPTAIN. I THINK THIS MIGHT JUST BE THE PROCESS OF REINTEGRATING HARRY, UNTANGLING HIS PUBLIC IMAGE/FAKE PERSONA THAT MADAM HAS CREATED.

“Harry, you know you’ll always have a place “……………”

I FEEL PRETTY CERTAIN THIS IS HMTQ TALKING WITH HARRY, PHONE, VIDEOLINK MORE LIKELY. SHE IS REASSURING HIM, HE ALWAYS HAS HIS FAMILY, HE IS A BLOOD PRINCE AND IT WILL TAKE TIME WITH SOME OF THE PUBLIC, HIS FAMILY IS ENCIRCLED WITH LOVE AROUND HIM. SO AM I AND MANY MANY HERE AND WORLDWIDE. HARRY JUST IGNORE THE HATERS 💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊😊HARRY😊😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜. KEEP DOING THE VIDEO MEETINGS….THE REAL ONES!!!…..NOT MADAMS FALSE MEDIA…..

HARRY YOU ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE IN OUR HEARTS ALWAYS. NEVER EVER GIVE UP ON YOU OR BELIEVE THE LIES THAT HAS BERN SPUN IN AN EVIL WEB QUITE LITERALLY ON THE WEB INTERNET AND THEN SPEWED ON SOCIAL MEDIA AND OTHER MEDIA.

“he’s not happy Catherine “ ………

WILLIAM IS SPEAKING WITH HIS WIFE. HE IS CONCERNED ABOUT HOW HIS DEAR BELOVED, YES BELOVED IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE WORDS💜💜💜, BROTHER IS HANDLING ALL THIS PR LIES, FAKE KABUKI MADAM IS DOING. . HE KNOWS AND IS UPDATED REGULARLY ON THE POISONOUS WRITINGS DONE BY PENS AND BY POISONOUS KEYBOARDS WRITING AND TYPING HIDEOUS LIES THAT ARE JUST BEYOND THE PALE. SEEKING ADVICE OR A LISTENING EAR. THEY ARE WITHOUT A DOUBT 100% SUPPORTIVE, LOVING AND WANTING THIS OVER. IT IS EXTREMELY HARD SEEING SOMEONE YOU LOVE SUFFER SO. THIS TRULY IS UNPRECEDENTED. 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻FOR ALL OF YOU IN OUR ROYAL FAMILY.

R1…………

I COULD SAY R1, A ONE WOMAN SHOW THAT HAS INFECTED THE ENTIRE ROYAL FAMILY, THE PUBLIC, THE COMMONWEALTH AND MORE. SHE IS 1, RACHEL=R1. THE CURE FOR THIS DESTRUCTIVE INVASION IS JUSTICE……AND IT IS COMING I HAVE NO DOUBT. ⚖️

AS THIS REGARDS TO COVID-19 AND THE PROCESS OF UNLOCKDOWN. THESE THINGS ARE ALL SO VERY COMPLEX.

IN TRACKING EPIDEMIC STATISTICS IS KEY. R0, IS USED TO MEASURE THE POTENTIAL TRANSMISSION OF A VIRUS, DISEASE ETC.

“In epidemiology, the basic reproduction value describes the average number of people an individual can expect to infect.

It is called the reproductive value, or “R0 ” - pronounced ‘R nought' or ‘R zero’. The measure is used to track how many people, on average, will be infected for every one person who has the disease.

The number is not fixed. It can be altered by a range of factors, including behaviour, which is why countries around the world have imposed stringent social distancing measures. It’s not rocket science - keeping people away from one another obviously makes a huge difference to the potential infection rate.”

I WOULD SUGGEST THIS RESOURCE I RESEARCHED …

https://www.healthknowledge.org.uk/public-health-textbook/research-methods/1a-epidemiology/epidemic-theory

THESE ARE ALL KEY TO THE UNLOCKDOWNING, OF THE U.K., YES I MADE ANOTHER NEW WORD OH MY IT HAS DOWNING IN IT!!! 😁😁

re-train…………

FIRST STARTED AS A LOW DRUMBEAT, METAPHORICALLY SPEAKING , NOW IT IS BEING SAID OUTRIGHT. WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE NEW NORMAL, MANY JOBS WILL NO LONGER EXIST. SO MANY THINGS HAVE AND WILL CONTINUE TO CHANGE.

TO RE-TRAIN IS TO LEARN A NEW TRADE OR EDUCATION FOR A DIFFERENT FIELD OF WORK. MANY MILLIONS WILL BE FACING THIS AFTER THE HORRENDOUS PANDEMIC CRISIS HAS STABILIZED.

I DO THINK THIS HAS ANOTHER MEANING REGARDING THE RAILROAD , SO VERY MANY FURLOUGHS THERE☹️☹️, AND OTHER PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION MEANS. I CANNOT RECALL THE NUMBER BUT ITS MASSIVE THE LOSS IN REVENUE OF THE PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION IN LONDON ALONE. THE ECONOMIC IMPACT, I DO NOT THINK OUR IMAGINATIONS CAN FULLY GRASP YET HOW THINGS WILL BE. RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO BE KIND, BE CALM , SUPPORT ONE ANOTHER AND CARRY ON, ONE DAY AT A TIME AS THE CRISTY LANE SONG GOES. ONE DAY AT A TIME SWEET JESUS🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻.

clubbings, clubbed……

CRAZY PARTIERS ITS MADNESS DRINKING DANCING AS IF THINGS WERE JUST USUAL. BEACHING, PARTYING. NON COMPLIANCE WITH REGULATIONS HAS LED TO MANY FINES ETC. DEALING WITH IMPAIRED PEOPLE I HAVE NO DOUBT SONE OFFICERS GOT CLUBBED LITERALLY. LOCKDOWN, CLUBS CLOSED, CLUBBED CLOSED QUITE LITERALLY.

Tea-CHING……………

OH YES MADAM ALLEGEDLY CRASHED A ZOOM MEETING WITH “H” OF A TEACHERS UNION, WAIT, OH NO IT WAS A MENTAL HEALTH CHARITY, WITH A GUY WITH A TWITTER NO PAGE FOUND.

WHEN YOU HEAR THE WORDS CHA-CHING IT MEANS MONEY. PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME SHE IS EARNING MONEY BY GIVING LECTURES ONLINE USING HER WORD 🥗 SALAD. AS I SAID YESTERDAY OR DAY BEFSHE IS SKILLED AT ALL THINGS A REAL RACHEL OF ALL TRADES, LITERALLY ALL TRADES🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂.

I KNOW FERGIE, SARAH FERGUSON WAS SELLING PRETTY TEAS. HAS MADAM COPIED SOMEONE, YET AGAIN, AND IS BRINGING OUT TEA FOR SAKE?

OR IS IT THE HORRIBLE EUPHEMISM I SO DETEST, AND NO CLUE WHERE IT CAME FROM BUT I WISH IT WOULD GO AWAY. THE PEJORATIVE USE OF THE WORD ‘TEA’ BEING USED AS GOSSIP. YES IF SHE SELLS HER JUICY SECRET DIARY SHE KEPT, AND A TELL ALL BOOK, THE SUGARS WILL BUY IT FOR SURE BUT WILL ANYONE ELSE? I DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH CHING SHE WILL GET FROM HER CUP OF TEA. I AM CERTAIN IT WILL BE EMBARGOED IN THE U.K. IF IT IS PRINTED IN AMERICA.

REMEMBER WAY BACK LAST YEAR MADAM MADE THAT QUICK WEEKEND TO NYC TO WATCH HER BESTIE LOSE THE U.S OPEN, WHEN THEY TOLD HER NOT TO COME? I CLEARLY RECALL A CLUE IN THE RIDDLE AND IT WAS ABOUT HER MEETING WITH A BOOK PUBLISHING HOUSE THAT WEEKEND TOO.

“ yes, that’s a really good question”…………

WHEN WILL ALL THIS END? WHEN WILL MADAM FACE JUSTICE? WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN HER MOS LAWSUIT? WHEN CAN HARRY BE PUBLICLY REUNITED AND GET HIS REPUTATION BACK AND THE LOVE IF EVERYONE AGAIN.

WHEN WILL COVID STOP? WHEN WILL THERE BE A VACCINE? HOW WILL THE LOCKDOWN END, HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE?

I COULD CONTINUE WITH MANY MORE BUT YOU KIDS GET THE JIST.

2 metres for ever???…………

THE EXPERTS IN INFECTIOUS DISEASES, EPIDEMIOLOGY, ER PHYSICIANS, VARIOUS PROFESSIONALS ALL CONCUR THIS VIRUS IS A MYSTERY. WHY IT IS SO AGGRESSIVE IN CERTAIN AREAS BUT NOT OTHERS. THEY HAVE YET TO FIND SOUND SCIENCE DATE TO EXPLAIN THIS. THE WHO, WORLD GEALTH ORGANIZATION, ALONG WITH OTHERS ARE SAYING THIS IS A MARATHON JUST BEGINNING. THIS VIRUS WILL LIKELY REMAIN WITH US. THEY ARE HOPING FOR WHAT IS CALLED HERD IMMUNITY. I KNOW IT SOUNDS ODD BUT IT COMES FROM AGRICULTURE, IN DISEASES AMONG THE HERD, THEY DEVELOP AN IMMUNITY TO AN EXISTING AND PRESENT VIRUS. HOWEVER IN HUMANS BEINGS , THIS WILL REQUIRE EXTENSIVE TESTING,

DR. TAM, OUR🇨🇦, CHIEF MEDICAL HEALTH OFFICER FOR OUR COUNTRY ANNOUNCED A TWO YEAR STUDY. THEY WILL BE TESTING SEROLOGY OF A MILLION I THINK THAT IS THE NUMBER, AND WILL MONITOR FOR PRESENCE OF ANTIBODIES, IF THEY EXIST, IF THEY CHANGE OVERTIME OR VANISH. THIS WILL BE KEY IN KNOWING HOW MANY ANTIBODIES ARE NEEDED TO MAKE ONE IMMUNE, AND HOW LONG THE IMMUNITY LASTS. ITS ALL VERY FASCINATING TO ME.

SO, AS USUAL WITH ME YOU GET DINNER AND A SHOW WITH EACH CLUE, THE QUESTION HAS SERIOUSLY BEEN RAISED IS SOCIAL/PHYSICAL DISTANCING OF WHICH 2 METRES IS THE DISTANCE, GOING TO CONTINUE TO BE A PERMANENT PART OF LIFE AS WE KNOW IT. THAT IS A VERY DIFFICULT CHANGE IN OUR LIVES FOR SURE.

a rally in Calais. …………

THE LITTLE SHIP CLUB IS A BOAT/YACHTING CLUB IN LONDON. THEY HAVE REGULAR REGATTAS ETC. THE ORIGINAL CLUB WAS FOUNDED WAY BACK IN 1926, TO CONNECT OVER LECTURES AND TEACHING ON YACHTING!! REAL YACHTING. IT HAS ITS BUILDING CALLED THE CLUBHOUSE, AT BELL WHARF, RIGHT ON THE THAMES, THE ONKY ONE IN LONDON.

THEY HOLD AN ANNUAL MAY REGATTA OR RALLY, HOWEVER IT IS CANCELLED DUE TO, YOU KNOW IT, THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC.

SO WE HAVE YACHTING REFERENCE HERE. WE ALL KNOW SOMEONE WHO HAS EXTENSIVE, AND I MEAN E X T E N S I V E😂😂😂😂🤣🤣YACHTING EXPERIENCE. SO CANCELLED HMMMMMM……NO LONGER UP TO RALLYING AND YACHTING AT 43? I THINK NORMAL YACHTING 43 IS PERFECT. HOWEVER THE OTHER KIND OF YACHTING….43….NOT SO MUCH CHA CHING IN THAT(REFERENCE TO OTHER CLUE).

GBHMTQAOGC 🇬🇧🌈🇨🇦

GSTQAOBC IS MY THINGY I ALWAYS ADD, AT THE END OF MOST OF MY NOTES, POSTS ETC. IT MEANS, “GOD SAVE THE QUEEN AND OUR BELOVED COMMONWEALTH”.

HERE IS , GOD BLESS HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN AND OUR GORGEOUS COMMONWEALTH. OR GRATEFUL, ANOTHER G WORD PERHAPS.

IF I MAY BE SO BOLD, THERE IS A RAINBOW , WHICH IS A COVENANT, BETWEEN THE U.K. AND CANADA. WE ARE VERY MUCH A COMMONWEALTH COUNTRY. HMTQ IS A PART OF EVERY SINGLE THING IN 🇨🇦. PROVINCES AND TERRITORIES HAVE HMTQ OFFICIAL REPRESENTATIVE, THE LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR. WE PRONOUNCE LIEUTENANT, LEFFTENANT IN CANADA. THE COUNTRY HAS A GOVERNOR GENERAL WHO IS HMTQ REPRESENTATIVE TO OUR ENTIRE COUNTRY. ANY LEGISLATION, PROVINCIAL AND FEDERAL IS SIGNED OFF BY THEM. HMTQ IS ON THE MONEY ETC ETC.

I THINK MM ANON IS REFERRING TO THE WONDERFUL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN US. I AM EXTENDING FURTHER, THE WONDERFUL CONNECTION AND TRUTH SEEKING THAT OUR BELOVED💜💜🐼💜💜 HAS COMMITTED TO AND THOSE WHO ARE HERE COMMITTED TO IT AS WELL. I CAN ASSURE YOU, LIFE SITUATIONS MAY HAPPEN, BUT WE WILL NEVER BREAK OUT OATHS AND RESOLVE FOR TRUTH, JUSTICE AND OUR HARRY BACK, RIGHT WHERE HE BELONGS PUBLICLY. 💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

——————

18. May 16

MM ANON …… “ I’m keeping my tennis shoes on”……… “I’m not getting out of bed for less than 3mill” …… cold nose undercover ………… a learning yearning ………… “friends thou hast, and there adoption tried “…… …… 🎼ya gotta give a little 🎼……………… “I’m not happy about them returning William “ …………… “ One needs ones hair attended too”………… “ I’ll bloody cut it myself !!”……… “ I know!! … SYDNEY!!”

Thank you…😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MAY 16/2020

SEASON TWO:THE RETURN OF MM ANON 😉

RIDDLE #18

1400 HRS

“ I’m keeping my tennis shoes on”………

CHARLOTTE TAKING TENNIS LESSONS WITH CATHERINE AT QUEENS TENNIS 🎾 CLUB. CHARLOTTE WANTS TO KEEP HER REGULAR SHOES ON, USUALLY WITH TENNIS YOU PROTECT THE GREENS WITH TENNIS SHOES. A BATTLE OF WILLS MIGHT ENSUE🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

“I’m not getting out of bed for less than 3mill”

THE VERY FIRST MODEL TO USE THE TITLE WAS 🇨🇦CANADIAN LINDA EVANGELISTA. SHE WAS FAMOUS FOR SAYING THE ABOVE SAYING EXCEPT I THINK IT WAS $100,000.00. SO MADAM IS REFUSING MINUSCULE OFFERS AND HAS SET THE LOWEST AT THREE MILLION. GOOD LUCK RACHEL!

…… cold nose undercover …………

I READ COLD NOSE I THINK IF A DOGGY OR ANY WINTER MORNING. UNDERCOVER IS IN BED OR A DETECTIVE TRYING TO BLEND IN TO GET EVIDENCE. I AM GOING TO BE CUTE AND SAY HARRY IS GETTING ALOT OF COMFORT FROM HIS DOG AND THEY SLEEP TOGETHER AS MOST DOGS DO. WAKENS HARRY WITH HIS COLD NOSE.

AS I HAVE SAID FOR FOREVER NOW, HARRY HAS BEEN OVERTLY COVERT WITH MADAM , GATHERING ANY AND ALL EVIDENCE HE CAN.SOMETIMES LAW ENFORCEMENT USE A STING OPERATION TO CATCH SOMEONE IN A CRIMINAL ACT. NOT SURE HOW THE LAWS APPLY HERE.

a learning yearning …………

WE ARE LEARNING OUR WORLD WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. I KNOW LONDON SCOOP COULD NOT HAVE KNOWN ABOUT COVID , BUT IF YOU READ HER WORDS, ITS EERILY THEY APPLY.TOTALLY SEE THE WORLD DIFFERENTLY, LEARNING WHOLE NEW WAYS OF DOING THINGS UNDER LOCKDOWN. THE FUTURE WILL BRING MORE CHANGE, WE CANNOT FATHOM IT ALL JUST NOW. WE YEARN FOR A WORLD WE HAD, SO MANY IF US TOOK FOR GRANTED, THINGS CHANGED ON A DIME.

“friends thou hast, and there adoption tried “……

I LOVE THIS SOO MUCH, BACK TO THE BARD. I SHALL ENDEAVOUR TO BE LESS WORDY. THIS IS FROM HAMLET. TO BE CORRECT IT IS” FRIENDS THOU HAST, AND THEIR ADOPTION TRIED. BASICALLY KEEP CLOSE THOSE YOU LOVE AND TRUST, CHERISH THEM, NEVER TAKE FOR GRANTED. HARRY HAS LONG TERM FRIENDS WHOM I BELIEVE ARE HELPING HIM GET THROUGH THESE TOUGH DAYS.

UNDOUBTEDLY HERE WITH THE WORD ADOPTION WE ARE REFERENCING ARCHIE. SO AT WHAT POINT IS THE TRUTH COMING OUT, IF AT ALL? WE HAVE ASKED MANY TIMES HOW WILL THEY DEAL WITH THIS ISSUE. ONLY THE FUTURE WILL TELL.

🎼ya gotta give a little 🎼………………

I LOVE DEANO, SMOOTH VOICE, DEAN MARTIN GLORY OF LOVE. ALL ABOUT GIVE A LITTLE, COMPROMISE, RELATIONSHIPS BRING TEARS, JOYS, FIGHTS, COMPROMISE IS THE KEY. TRULY IS THE KEY TO ALL THINGS IN LIFE IF YOU WANT TO HAVE MEANINGFUL CONNECTIONS WITH OTHER PEOPLE.

“I’m not happy about them returning William “

AS WITH MANY MILLIONS OF PARENTS, CATHERINE HAS GREAT TREPIDATION AND WORRY ABOUT SENDING THE LITTLE ONES BACK TO SCHOOL.

“ One needs ones hair attended too”………… “ I’ll bloody cut it myself !!”……… “ I know!! … SYDNEY!!”

HERE WE HAVE A SCENE FOR THE AGES. EVERYONE DEALING WITH ROOTS CO,ING OUT, NEEDING COLOURING OR HIGHLIGHTS DONE. GO ON YOUTUBE FOR HORRIBLE LOCKDOWN HAIRUTS😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣. SO HIMSELF IS WANTING HIS HAIR CUT AND IS MORE THAN EAGER TO TAKE ON THE JOB. HMTQ IS BRINGING UP THE SUBJECT. AGAIN POOR SYDNEY IS CRIED OUT FOR. I THINK THIS IS BRILLIANT.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you…😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*entertainment purposes

—————-

19. May 17

MM ANON …… a Diamond evaluator ……… Of no consequence whatsoever ……… straight to credits. ………… LA Confidential ………… 🎼no sir I don’t mean maybe 🎼…………… 🎼Don’t fence me in🎼…………… “ I want Adele you a story “……………… The man from U.N.C.L.E. Harry …………… “ ones lockdown sucks” ………… “ miserable without Boddys old thing “ …………… “Sydney’s slacking “.

Thank you 😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

May 17/2020

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MMANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

RIDDLE #20

a Diamond evaluator ………

MADAM HAS WORN SO MUCH FAKE JEWELRY DURING HER TIME AS A ‘MEMBER’ OF THE ROYAL FAMILY. MOST ASSUME IT IS REAL. I WONDER IF THE IRS HAS HIRED A GEMOLOGIST TO ASSESS THE VALUE OF HER PIECES IN PART OF DETERMINING HOW MUCH TAX SHE OWES. WONT THE BE DISAPPOINTED😫😫🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

Of no consequence whatsoever ………

IN THE LONG RUN AND HISTORICALLY NATURE OF THE ROYAL FAMILY, MADAM IS BUT A VERY SMALL BLIP ON THE RADAR. HER FUTURE IS SEALED BY HER OWN CHOICES AND MISBEHAVIOUR.

straight to credits. …………

MADAMS FILM ROLES, THE PHRASE STRAIGHT TO CREDITS IS OFTEN USED WHEN THE ACTING OR THE STORY IS HORRENDOUS. EVEN VOICEOVER WORK IS HORRENDOUS. THIS MAY ALSO REFER TO ANY FILMS IF AN ADULT NATURE THAT IS IN NEGOTIATION AND THE POWERS THAT BE WANT TO KNOW THOSE RESPONSIBLE.

LA Confidential …………

GREAT FILM NOIR FILM BUT DONE IN THE 1990’s. LOTS OF MURDER AND MAYHEM.

LOTS OF STUFF KEPT QUIET IN HOLLYWOOD. WITH THE #METOO MOVEMENT LOTS HAS CHANGED. I WONDER IF MADAM HAS SOMETHING ON SOMEONE. GIVEN HER LOST YEARS I CANNOT FATHOM WHAT SHE ALL KNOW ABOUT THE HIGH ROLLERS AND VERY WEALTHY MEN.

🎼no sir I don’t mean maybe 🎼……………

YES SIR THATS MY BABY NO SIR DONT MEAN MAYBE YES SIR THATS MY BABY NOW….SONG FROM OLD HOLLYWOOD FILMS..MY WHEELHOUSE….WHEN FILMS WERE FILMS. WE ARRIVE AT ARCHIE…WILL THE REAL DNA COME OUT FINALLY AND I DOUBT WE WILL FIND OUT WHERE THE BABY IS ETC THE PRESS WOUKD FOREVER HAUNT AND HUNT THIS CHILD.

🎼Don’t fence me in🎼……………

ANOTHER GREAT OLD SONG, MADAM DOES NOT WANT TO BE CONTROLLED IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM. WELL I SUSPECT BEFORE TOO LONG THINGS WILL CHANGE DRASTICALLY IN TERMS OF WHO CONTROLS HER IF CHARGES. ARE FILED AND ALSO THAT PESKY MOS LAWSUIT SHE FILED. ESPECIALLY NO INCARCERATION NO ORANGE JUMPSUIT.

“ I want Adele you a story “………………

THIS IS YET ANOTHER MYSTERY, WILL THE REAL ADELE STAND UP PLEASE. SHE IS UNRECOGNIZABLE. SHE IS A FAMOUS BRITISH MUSICIAN BEAUTIFUL CURVY WOMAN. LAST WEEK SHE POSTED INSTAGRAM PHOTOS, NO MENTION OF SURGERY OR ANYTHING BUT SHE LOOKS NOTHING LIKE HERSELF. OUT OF THE BLUE TWICE NOW SHE HAS PUBLICLY COME OUT IN SUPPORT OF THE SUSSEXES. ODD, NOTHING BEFORE NOW, WHY IS THAT AND WHY NOW? TRULY A MYSTERY INDEED. ALL THIS HOLLYWOOD STUFF WE SURE HAVE HAD OUR EYES OPENED TO ALL THE PR LIES.

The man from U.N.C.L.E. Harry ……………

MINUS THE HARRY THIS WAS AN OLD SPY TV SHOW. A LONG LONG TIME AGO WE HAD A RIDDLE CLUE THAT AN UNCLE WAS HELPING A NEPHEW WITH SEEKING COURT ASSISTANCE. SOME AT THE TIME IT WAS REGARDING THE LIES ABOUT THE MARQUIS AND MARCHIONESS OF CHOMONDELEY, THE RUMOURS MADAM ALLEGEDLY STARTED ABOUT WILLIAM AND ROSE. NOW ARE WE SUSPECTING PRINCE ANDREW WAS A BRITISH SPY WHILE HIS TIME WITH THE LATE JE?? HE WAS THE BRITISH TRADE ENVOY AT THAT TIME MAKES SENSE.

IT ALSO MAKES TOTAL SENSE FOR HARRY DOING THE SAME DURING HIS TIME WITH MADAM, INTEL GATHERING.

“ ones lockdown sucks” ………… “ miserable without Boddys old thing “ …………… “Sydney’s slacking “.

HMTQ IS TIRING OF LOCKDOWN, ALTHOUGH I CANNOT QUITE PICTURE HER USING THE WORDS SUCKS BUT IT IS TRUE. WE ARE ALL FEELING THE EFFECTS. SOUNDS LIKE THEY HAVE RUN OUT OF BODDINGTONS AND HIMSELF IS NOT ONE BIT PLEASED ABOUT THAT. AGAIN POOR SUDNEY GETS THE BLAME.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

Thank you 😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

—————-

[edvonstein]

which precures would read homestuck without being dared to

Boy howdy. There’s a question I didn’t expect. Well let’s see here and go down the list:

Nagisa: Got into it shortly after launch, after hearing Honoka talk about it.

Honoka: OG reader, has been around for most of Hussie’s stuff.

Hikari: She didn’t read it until about halfway through its publication run, but caught up in a single night. She made fanart.

Saki: She tried to get into it for Mai, but it never really meshed with her. Still learned enough through osmosis to cosplay both Dirk and Dave.

Mai: She has five sketch books that are just redraws of the entire series with everybody replaced by Saki. None of her friends must ever see. They saw. They didn’t get it, but liked the art.

Nozomi: OG reader, not the absolute biggest fan, but did walk away liking it.

Rin: Saw Nozomi read it, and tried a little herself. Then she met Kanaya. The rest was history and fanfics. And special flower arrangements.

Urara: Currently lobbying for a broadway adaption. She is undecided which role she wants to play tho.

Komachi: She has changed her writing pseudonym to John Egbert, to get a better likelyhood of getting her Pirate Hurricane series published. She writes more like a mix of Dave and Rose though. It’s fucking mind expanding.

Karen: She had it fed through her home’s in house cinema to watch it with Komachi initially. They all ended up watching it.

Milk/Kurumi: “Vriska did nothing wrong”

Love: Her and Setsuna totally are like Rose and Kanaya. She is Rose of course.

Miki: She knows she is everybody’s Kanaya. She spend some time making masks of the characters. You can imagine how well that ended. Her Kanaya cosplays are somehow still great for the family boutique.

Inori: Yeah, she read it. Each reading session was followed by a trip to the confession booth. Eventually she just started reading it in the confession booth. The priest liked it too.

Setsuna: Her and Love totally are like Rose and Kanaya. She is Rose of course.

Tsubomi: Yes she read it. No her friends must never know. She doesn’t realize all of them have read it too.

Erika: The only friend Tsubomi opened up to about Homestuck. Turns out Erika runs one of the main japanese fansites of Homestuck.

Itsuki: Main mod on Erika’s fansite. Tsubomi must never know. Nor her family. Itsuki still feels too uncomfortable in their skin for that.

Yuri: Almost OG reader, she and Honoka frequented the same forums. Upon casual mention from Honoka, Yuri tried it out. Her young friends must never be tainted by this horror. Hopefully Hussie updates soon!

Hibiki:Learned about it through Ako. Found it pretty sweet, but didn’t make it all the way.

Kanade: Also learned about it through Ako. her bi heart couldn’t be stopped as she steamed through almost all of it in one go.

Ellen: Had been following it for about a year with Hummie before Suite happened. Continued reading while on the villains side. Often plays Homestuck songs while busking, and has several rearrangements on niconico.

Ako: Has been reading Hussie’s stuff since halfway through Problem Sleuth. She was 7 at the time. There’s a reason she a) is so crumby, Karkat is her spirit animal, and b) she decided to go and become an extra af phantom thief precure.

Miyuki: She is a reading machine, and of course this would capture her attention. She came in a bit late but found it on her own.

Akane: Similarly to Rin, she saw it over Miyuki’s shoulder one day, did a bit of reading herself, and got pretty hooked for a while.The hiatuses however broke her streak. Oddly enough the main emotion she took away from it is a hate for Equius, which she shares with Nao.

Yayoi: Main fanart contributor to Erika’s fansite. Her and Reika spend hours talking about Terezi.

Nao: Never did read it, she was too busy with her family and superheroism. More recently though, she decided to kinda wiki crawl the subject. Walked away primarily with a hate for Equius.

Reika: Another mod on Erika’s fansite.She has found her path. Her parents are disappointed. Screw her parents.

Mana: Tried it, didn’t like it. Square.

Rikka: Wishes she could live on that first planet they showed, with the froggies. She tries to dare Mana, but continues to get shot down. Mana is such a square.

Alice: Found it on one of her internet binges to bring her temper down. It proofed a surprisingly good tool to keep her mellow, which is why we see so little of her inner rage during the show. Another Terezi fan.

Makoto: Somehow has never come across a single shred of evidence that Homestuck exists. As unlucky as she is, she might be the luckiest of us all.

Aguri: Unlike Makoto, she has seen what Rikka and Alice are up to. She did read it a little, and liked what she saw well enough, but didn’t stick with it. Not enough time, and her twin sister lives fifty miles in Vriska did nothing wrong territory, so clearly she must be better than her. (She isn’t.)

Megumi: Came across it on her own, read it, but lost interest.

Hime: Runs the discord server for Erika’s fansite.

Yuko: Does occasional lyrics for Ellen’s arrangements, both on youtube and niconico, and makes the occasional troll riceball.

Iona: She was in fact dared, but by Megumi of all people, after she stopped reading. There is no bigger Rose fan now.

Haruka: As an avid reader, it did cross her radar, she went through it, and came out more determined than before to be the best princess she can be.

Minami: Amusingly enough, stumbled across it during her internet binges boning up on marine biology. Feferi popped up in her searches somehow, and the rest is history.

Kirara: Fans suggested it to her. She read it. The most fabulous Kanaya cosplayer of them all.

Towa: Kirara suggested it to her after she herself had finished (by now the webcomic is done IRL) partially because nerds gotta share, and partially because she truly felt it might help her cope with some of her inner turmoil from the guilt over being Twilight. Towa is slow in reading through this particular one, so she is still going through it today. Results unclear, she doesn’t talk much about it, even with Kirara. It might be helping though.

(The remaining characters I don‘t know as well as the others yet, but I’ll see what I can conjure up. Intriguingly I feel this also marks the first generation of Cures that lived in a post Homestuck world, what with Mahoutsukai airing in 2016, and Homestuck ending in 2016.)

Mirai: Got dragged in by the hype over the ending of Homestuck. Dared Riko to read it with her. They did. They planned their wedding to be like Rose’s and Kanaya’s.

Riko: Got dragged in by Mirai. Would feel very big deja vu next year when they both became moms to Kotoha.

Kotoha: Her moms protect her from this vice. (She found it anyways. There is no stopping the corruption of the youth.)

Ichika: Heard about it, but didn’t really care. Unfortunately for her she is on a team with Aoi, Yukari, and Akira.

Himari: Closet fan, wrote several dissertations about the science in Homestuck on Erika’s fansite. Which is probably where her crush on Honoka comes from.

Aoi: Loud and proud, likes this retro comic. Has started collabs with Yuko, Ellen, Amour, and Emiru because of course.

Yukari: She was a depressed gay teen during Homestuck’s peak... what do you think?

Akira: She was a gay teen during Homestuck’s peak... what do you think?

Ciel: She would have been save. But Undertale dragged her right into this fresh hell.

Hana: Huge fan of Undertale, but never quite pulled together the energy to tackle the behemoth that is Homestuck. Did learn through osmosis, with so many of her senpai cure friends being raving lunatic homestuck fans.

Saaya: Actually dodged both the Homestuck and the Undertale bullet initially. Hana then tossed Deltarune at her, and Saaya fell down the rabbit hole.

Homare: She had some inner hangups about getting into the whole mess, but Hana did dare her, knowing enough about the series to know that it’s message might gibe Homare the kick in the behind she needed to give ice skating another go.

Emiru: Big Undertale fan, but doesn’t care about the webcomic herself. Uncertain if even a dare would work, she does her own thing... well, besides the music. She freaking loves the music.

Amour: Read the whole thing in one hour to understand its impact on culture. What else would make her crash and join the heroes? Jokes aside, she did do it, and it did leave an impact on her. She was the one who connected Aoi and Emiru.

Hikaru: What are the freaking odds that she hasn’t read through it in its entirety three times this week alone?

Lala: Had her ship read it to her as something to fall asleep to. It put her to sleep quickly, actually, like tales from home. Her ship didn’t fare as well. It’s one of the biggest crack shippers on Erika’s site. Lala only heard like ten percent of the story.

Elena: Has neither the free time nor privacy to read a webcomic that’s now a decade old. Likes listening to Hikaru’s ranting about the series. Also likes how somehow that ranting makes Madoka’s face light up.

Madoka: It is unknown how she found the time, but she is a freaking huuuueg closet fan. She wants to talk with Hikaru about it, but still feels too uncomfortable being public about it. Hikaru does however know that MoonSollux, one of the biggest fanfic writers on Erika’s site, is her, but will wait for Madoka to come out of her shell in her own time.

Yuni: Missed the whole mess being a space alien idol phantom thief. Is getting a very wrong idea about human culture from Hikaru’s ranting. A dare would totally work.

(I have zero grasp on the Healin’ Good Girls, so not gonna do them.)

[catboytheorist]

In which I scream about Loki (2019) #1

Okay I’m just going to put my every reaction onto this post to save your dashboards from endless loki posting. SO

The front cover:

Why the fuck does he look so evil on the front cover. Tbh I know his face is just like that but also. We just had a redemption arc I can’t go through the whole again so soon

A rainbow in the background. Gay????

He’s just playing with Thor’s hammer which I LOVE because it’s so dumb and so loki to just. toss it around like it’s all a joke. Also, in War of the Realms Omega he says “Perhaps next time, I should borrow Mjolnir. I imagine I’ll be worthy enough any day now”. Tbh I don’t love the idea of Loki being worthy in an actual sense (I know he lifted the hammer in the axis event and that one time Odin just made him worthy to prove a point to Thor, but I think we can all agree those didn’t really count). Still, can’t wait to see where they go with that.

Also from War of the Realms: Omega, the shield he gives Drrf on the front cover!!!

The bridge is relatively familiar, like I know it’s one of the famous American ones (Brooklyn Bridge??) Anyway, hopefully this means some Midgard action and also there better be some fucking Verity Willis content or I’m gonna sue

BLACK FINGERNAILS. Still love it. In fact they kept the whole design and I’m absolutely nutting.

Also just a quick note on the variant cover because you know this bitch bought that shit: I know variant art isn’t always plot relevant, but would be fun if it is? I love that Loki’s grinning and the rest of the Asgardians are. Somewhat perturbed. I do prefer the regular art though, which tbh I usually do.

The contents:

I have very mixed feelings about the whole Loki being king of Jotunheim thing. Can’t really put my finger on it but honestly I’m just not that interested in Loki being that tied down. The fact that there’s a brb note on the throne is reassuring though. Also, is this meant to be angsty? Like I’m not confusing MCU Loki and 616 Loki but Loki has weird family feelings nonetheless, as seen by the super fun daddy vore scene. But anyway I’m not really feeling that vibe at the moment, and I think I’d like to.

Please do not draw Loki’s face like that.

Otherwise I love this suit he’s got going on and also the new symbol on his little face helmet thing? Love it.

Also, presumably the new symbol is meant to be jera, a rune that largely means cycles and changes in fortune, so I guess maybe there’s something in it about all the redemption arcs we’ve had going on in the recent past (which I have mixed feelings about).

Every time Loki flirts with a girl he has to also flirt with a guy, or be a woman while he does it. Like I know he’s bi but like. Where. If you make him straight Kibblesmith I’ll break into your home and piss on your keyboard.

Sigyn is mentioned!!! Is she going to be a character? I doubt it but I’m thrilled to just see her mentioned for the first time since. A long time. Anyway

!!!!!!!!

Okay but, both Loki and Thor as kings, the casino scene, Loki’s weird Odin projection thing saying that Loki will end the world... this is literally AOA Axis in reverse and I’m DYING

Oh fuck Loki’s just super fucking smashed (now hungover) what a fucking icon.

This is going to be my excuse for whenever I’m too fucking pissed

Is this the angst? The tasty fucking angst I was looking for?

I’m SCREAMING I love this of course Loki is a bad fucking king, it’s too much responsibility and he has to just. sit there. It’s boring. He’s not made to be a king and this I basically every confirmation I need. Incredible. Kibblesmith you’re ualid again. 

This whole thing is fucking ridiculous, Thor’s just like “Please. I’m begging you. Please just take this seriously for once in your life.” And Loki’s like “I’m deadly serious” as he builds fucking Olaf from Frozen

Olaf has just vored someone. 

Are we really doing another future Loki storyline? As much as I loved AOA I feel like its been done and I was really hoping to see something different? I don’t know, I really do enjoy Loki’s moral quandaries about ending the world and all that, but also what is the conclusion to this going to be other than that the future is not definite? Maybe I’m judging this too early but also, please do something different. I’m begging. (Not really).

So in the final page, are we meant to assume this is Loki, future Loki, and he’s worthy of Mjolnir? If so it could be an interesting twist on AOA. Still have my misgivings about being too involved in AOA. Still excited to see where it goes.

In the soon to be letter column: “Loki is a story about the kids who try to do everything right and still get punished for it”. Okay it’s cheesy but mentally ill kid me is crying.

Conclusion: I’m in love, I’m in love, not sold on the artwork entirely, but loving the story so far. I hope there’s more angst, I hope Kibblesmith does something quite different from AOA, and also please marvel GIVE US BACK VERITY WILLIS. Thank you. 

And yes I will be writing in a letter about Verity. Because I’m that bitch.