#which I very possibly might I love what they did

[violetrainbow412-blog]

ur wish is my command @hereforhalstead

"Spencer, I’m home," you announced in a half-shout. Your back ached from the physical inactivity that office work required, and you only wanted to take a bath and sleep deeply.

Your apartment wasn’t very spacious, but it had just the right spaces for you and your husband to be comfortable. He had installed a small table next to the bookshelf that served as his office, and you assumed you’d find him there. You could already picture it: that messy hair that had begun to grow in curls, his ever-gentle eyes, that eternally warm skin you’d kiss, first on his cheeks and then on his lips, which you were sure would taste like the coffee he was drinking—too bitter for this time of night.

However, what you found was entirely different. Spencer was in his ergonomic chair (the one you had given him last Christmas), but he hadn’t greeted you with the sweet expression he always wore. Instead, his head hung in a rather impractical way over his hand. There were a bunch of documents scattered both on the desk and on his lap.

He put all the effort into his classes that he couldn’t in the BAU, due to the rest he’d been forced to take. You knew he loved his job, but you were immensely grateful that someone had set limits after everything he had been through. You needed him home, safe, where his only stress came from a couple of lazy students, and you could take care of him the way he deserved.

You made sure he attended every one of his therapy sessions (also required by his job) and tried to help him adapt to normal life as best as possible.

Honestly, him being a professor now was something you loved. You’d never tell him, but it was a complete fantasy to see him come home dressed in his nice suit, glasses, and frown you always made sure to smooth away.

You left your things scattered around before crouching next to him.

"Spencer?" you asked softly. Your hand reached up to cup his face. "Honey…"

"Hmm?"

"You fell asleep," you said gently. Your husband showed signs of being conscious but kept his eyes closed, as if wanting to return to his previous state. "Let’s go to bed."

"I have to finish… it’s… uh, the… the…"

His mind couldn’t think coherently, and although you knew he wanted to keep working, you weren’t going to let him.

Carefully, you leaned in to kiss his lips, and he responded gladly, groaning at the comforting sensation of your affection. It didn’t take much to convince him to follow you.

You helped him up from the chair, taking the folders from his lap, and as soon as he stood, his body practically collapsed into yours.

You let out a small laugh at the feel of his head resting on your shoulder, trying to bury itself as much as possible in the crook of your neck. His arms were already circling your waist as you turned in an attempt to head to the bedroom. But he didn’t let go, only leaning further into your back and clumsily following your steps.

You could tell he might fall asleep at any moment, so you tried to settle him onto the bed as quickly as possible, though he didn’t seem willing to let you go when you tried to leave.

"I need to take a bath."

"Take one tomorrow."

"I’ll be back in a minute, Spencer. I promise."

"Stay with me," he managed to say.

He held your hand so loosely that you could’ve easily slipped away, but you didn’t want to. There had been a physical and emotional distance between you since Reid had been released from prison, and it wasn’t so common anymore for him to seek your touch. You didn’t want to break his heart, and it would be a lie to say you weren’t just as desperate to feel him.

Gently, you pulled his hand away to remove your clothes, leaving only your panties, and after that, you took care of removing his; you knew he was capable of sleeping in them, but you hated it when he did.

"Better?" you whispered near him, cuddling by his side as his arms welcomed you with pleasure.

Before, he used to love being the little spoon. He liked the sense of security your embrace provided and felt he could sleep peacefully, knowing that if he woke up, you’d be holding him. But prison had changed so much in him that now all he wanted was the certainty that you were real, that you were there with him, and that you wouldn’t leave him.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," you confessed in a low voice, adjusting yourself better against him until there wasn’t even an inch of space between you.

Spencer hadn’t opened his eyes once throughout the process, and in the same way, he leaned slightly to leave a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the shell of your ear. You let him slip one of his legs between yours, as if the hug wasn’t enough and you both wanted to melt into each other, while you reached out to run your fingers through his hair.

He lost the battle a few minutes later, intoxicated by the scent of your body and the feel of your skin against his.

There was no place he’d rather be.

Coming home late and finding him like this, you wake up him to tell him to come to bed and he’s all sleepy, clingy and cuddly UGH

[bougiebutchbitch]

never gonna actually do it because it would be a MASSIVE project but

if I were to write a Shen Jiu redemption arc

it would be with the knowledge that his original character would die like he did in the book - aka, being a prideful, toxic, Binghe-hating, abusive&abused little shit to the end

...then, in classic fanfic fashion, he'd be reincarnated in his shizun-self with young disciple Luo Binghe locked in the woodshed after a beating. Aka, where Shen Yuan came in

of course once he gets over the panic

(and the confused morass of emotions upon seeing Yue Qingyuan alive)

his first thought is. I have to kill that fucking monster.

and he goes to do just that - but Binghe is the protagonist and the protagonist can't die/the System stops him/etc. etc. etc.

eventually, despite a... couple more attempts, Shen Jiu realises the only way he's going to change his fate is the long and hard way (aka, repairing every single relationship he's spent his whole life RUINING)

he starts acting in subtly ooc ways, specifically as a ploy to convince people to like him. He is constantly thinking about how he can manipulate their opinion of him to show himself in a good light, and he is not above undercutting other people to paint himself as a Sweet Innocent Shizun who only puts on a cold mask because he's easily flustered. He does his damned best to convince everyone that he's not really a villain. He's just misunderstood. He's still harsh to his disciples, but it's interspersed with far more (reluctant) praise, and always for a genuine teaching purpose, so he can pretend he cares for them really, deep down.

Oh - it makes him sick. His loathing of Binghe festers as the child slooowly begins to creep out of his shell and become more attached to him. He seeks to maintain as much distance from him as possible while still maintaining his 'kind shizun' demeanour, but of course, Binghe being Binghe (and barely needing an excuse to develop a terrible crush on his teacher) makes that very difficult.

Basically: I want Shen Jiu scheming on how he can trick the whole world into thinking he's not a villain, while he himself still considers himself a despicable and irredeemable monster who is cunningly cheating death. I want his intentions to be genuinely rotten. I want him to loathe everyone and everything, and internally gnash his teeth and roll his eyes and inspect any kindness he's shown, working it into that massive web of paranoia that hovers above his head and tells him all the ways in which his so-called 'friends' and disciples may still turn on him in future

I want him to not realise that actions matter far more than intentions, and genuinely endear himself to a lot of people, his shit personality and all. They're like - yeah, that's Shen Qingqiu! He's a backstabbing two faced son of a bitch, but he keeps pulling through for us at the last moment, and he obviously cares deeply about his disciples! We all love him! He might be a dick, but he's our dick!

All while Shen Jiu is very much stuck in a Paranoid Torment Nexus of his own creation

he becomes the peaks' horrid little cat, is what I'm saying

[aboutcustardcreams]

For love, we gladly pay the price

Summary: As Lady Death struggles with an impossible choice (flashback), you and Agatha find yourselves entangled in a very awkward/ uncomfortable situation. The question here is: what does the Road really want from you?

previous chapter

You made your decision– one each mother, in your place, would make. Your son is going to regain consciousness any moment now. And you made it possible. With your incredible power and stubbornness, you gave the boy another chance in life, a proper one. But at what cost?

“Please–” Rio never begged, yet there she was. You’d barely recognize her voice if you listened to it. “I could not persuade her to let him go, if anything– I encouraged her to save him from the start,” she confessed in a pained murmur. 

In the dimly lit hall stood the three sisters, their expressions stoic, yet contemplative giving the illusion that they could still be convinced into changing their mind. They had summoned Lady Death and that alone couldn’t mean anything good. 

Atropos, the eldest, stepped forward. “We can’t ignore what she has done,” her voice echoed like a thunder, taking up the entire space. Rio flinched, but didn’t back away. “Her defiance comes with a price. I’m sure your job has taught you that much, hasn’t it?” 

The Green witch’s jaw tightened, her teeth grinding at the words. Of course, she knew. She had known the moment the Fates discovered her secret; how she had hidden Nicky away, shielding him from the River of Souls he was meant to cross at birth. The punishment had been swift and merciless. She had endured it all in silence. Not a word of it ever passed her lips, neither to you nor to Agatha. Because nothing could have been done to change that anyway so why bother you and Agatha too?

Despite everything, her lips curled into a bitter, defiant smile. “she fulfilled the purpose she was born for. Necromancy is her gift. You can’t condemn her for who she is.”

Atropos’s eyebrows shot up as her head lightly lolled to the side. She let out a sound between a scoff and a chuckle at Rio’s tenancy. For being a Celestial being she surely looked quite small now. The other two shared a glance, their eyes lingered as to decide which of them would speak second, in support of their eldest. 

Lachesis, the middleborn, took a soft sigh as she approached. Her long golden skirt swept over the floor, leaving a trail of sparkle in its wake. “I understand your concerns for her– my sisters do, too. In spite of what you might think, we’re not heartless.”

Rio didn’t let her guard down, nor did she allow those ‘apparent’ hopeful words to get to her head, before learning more. “If that’s true, then spare her life.” 

The eldest let out a quiet chuckle. Three heads snapped towards her. “Oh, you’ve definitely gotten sentimental, Lady Death.” 

The witch’s heart started pounding in her chest at great speed, her throat clenched almost painfully as she tumbled out, “it’s my wife’s life we are talking about. I’m allowed to be worried about her.” 

Her mind spiraled, imagining the ruin your death would bring and not just to her, but to Agatha and Nicky. Eternity was a long, unrelenting road to walk with a heart that was very likely to shatter into pieces and bleed forever. Agatha, she knew, would never forgive her. And Nicky, her sweet, pure-hearted Nicky would grow up with that same resentment festering inside him. He’d nurture it, shape it into something raw, something dangerous, especially now that he shared the same magic as yours. 

“This is my domain,” she said, hands turning into fists. “It’s mine alone to determine when a life ends. You cannot interfere with that–” 

“I believe there’s a little bit of confusion here,” Atropos argued. Her eyes flicked to Clotho, who had swiftly moved to sit in front of the chassis, her delicate fingers spinning the shimmering thread within with practiced grace. The motion was almost hypnotic. Rio’s face fell, her frown deepened. Could that be your life Clotho was holding? 

“We do not mean to take your wife’s life before its time,” the youngest admitted. Her voice didn’t match the depths of her power, the way her fingers could create as much as destroy. 

“Contrary to your lover, my sisters and I know where we stand. We would never interfere with something that doesn’t concern us, so I must confess you, it’s not death we wish for the necromancer, but life–” 

Rio blinked in disbelief. “I don’t understand–”

“A tormented life,” Atropos corrected, with a grin. “Something you experienced in a way, but not quite.” 

“I’m sure you’re familiar with our distant cousins, Lady Death,” Lachesis added solemnly. 

Rio’s mouth parted in slight shock, a bitter sound slipped for her lips, “and you said you are not heartless?”

“I take that as a yes,” Atropos replied. Clotho kept her eyes focused on the thread, Rio couldn’t be sure, but she spotted a glimpse of hesitation in her posture. She was touching that thread ever so gently as if she was lulling a baby to sleep. Maybe she didn’t agree with her sisters’ decision, but being the youngest of the three, forced her to submit to their will and play along with it. 

“Clotho, please—” Rio’s shoulders sagged. “It’s not right. You must know that– you–”

“Do not try to manipulate our sister!” The eldest’s voice came out so loud and sharp, Rio flinched and had to cover her ears. 

The youngest swallowed lightly, as she averted her gaze, “I’m truly sorry, Lady Death. If it’s any consolation, the torment will not last forever,” she glanced at her sisters. 

Atropos nodded with a wave of her hand, “sure thing, sister. What were you thinking? Fifty years?” 

Rio’s heart picked up, “that’s insane!” She cried out. Her magic crackled dangerously around her. “She would never survive that and you know it!” 

“A fair compromise for her not to lose her mind and die would be between two and five years,” she admitted carefully. “As we already mentioned, we don’t want to kill her, right Atropos?” 

She grimaced, clearly displeased with the proposition. 

“I suggest two years,” Clotho tried. 

“You’re too soft, sister,” Atropos scolded her. 

“Please–” Rio’s knees dropped at this point. A part of her knew you could make it, however that was not enough reason for them to put you through that. Their cousins were no joke– she had known mortals who had wished to die in less than a month. And out of mercy, she had taken them to the other side. 

“I will accept the three years, and considering you were so adamant into being punished in her place, I want you, Lady Death, to curse her.” 

She looked terrified at the idea. Horrified even. “I-I can’t… I don’t want to…”  

“Oh but you will–” Atropos’ lips curved in a sinister grin. “Or shall we ensure she suffers far worse than what we’ve promised?”

Rio swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

She had known it would come to this. She had tried to warn you— both you and Agatha, but deep down, Lady Death couldn’t entirely blame you for ignoring her. Bringing Nicky back wasn’t a crime in your eyes, nor it broke the natural balance of all things. It was an act of love. The love of a mother. 

But the Fates didn’t see it that way.

This wasn’t about your actions, not really. 

No, their wrath wasn’t fueled by what you had done but by who you were and who you challenged without a second thought. You had challenged their authority and proved yourself more powerful than they dared admit, and they hated you for it. Well, Atropos sure did. 

Clotho gave Lady Death an apologetic glance, “behave wisely.” She didn’t speak, yet Rio heard her in her mind. 

“So, do we have a deal?” Lachesis asked, picking at her fingernails. 

Lady Death’s chest tightened as she stood. Those words would have haunted her for the rest of her existence, of that she was sure. “We do.”

-

Present time

“Feels like we just came out of Mount Olympus!” Teen muttered in awe, staring down at his robe-like ensemble: a rich blue tunic adorned with intricate golden embroidery around the neckline hem and sleeves. Underneath the tunic, he wore white, loose-fitting pants, cinched at the waist with a sturdy leather belt that held a small pouch and decorative golden chains. 

“Check me out–” Agatha purred, as she admired her reflection in one of the tall mirrors placed against the ivory walls. 

She wore an elegant chiton, a deep shade of purple that hugged her figure with effortless grace. Its fabric draped like liquid silk, hugging her waist and hips before cascading softly around her thighs. The asymmetrical shape of the chiton left one shoulder bare, which caused your mouth to go dry as soon as your gaze drifted there.

“Oh, I am.” You drew closer, a subtle grin on your face, as your arms draped around her waist, and your head peeped out her bare shoulder. 

You’re hidden behind her body– almost purposefully. You didn’t want to distract her with what you were wearing, not just yet. “If you’re not a celestial being, then I don’t know who is,” you purred, your lips a few millimeters from her ear elicited goosebumps to her skin. 

She watched your face, through the mirror and her cheeks darkened a bit. You’d recognize that look anywhere. She wanted to see you, needed to, so she spun around and as soon as she did, her mouth parted in awe. 

Your dress, though beautiful, had barely crossed your mind until now. But the way she was looking at you made you suddenly aware of every part of it. 

“Woah, I’m– you are…” 

You did a little twirl for her.  

“Not bad, huh?” you teased, a soft chuckle slipping from your lips. 

The top of your outfit fitted as if it had been sewn just for you: it was a white bodice with a V neckline, adorned with a thick belt of black and silver filigree. The balloon skirt, layered with a silvery overlay evoked the jew/elry in your hair and swirled like shadows over the black underskirt that peeked through with each movement you made. 

When her hand found the side of your cheek, you leaned in, eager for more contact, more of her warmth and she obliged, thumb tracing sweet patterns over your skin. 

“How can you be so beautiful?” She breathed out like in a daze. 

You pursed your lips at her compliment, then tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I could ask you the same thing-”

She pulled you even closer, taking a firm grip onto your waist. “You know, I think more and more that the Road appeared to test me, and only me.” 

A flicker of amusement flashed through your eyes. “We both know this trail is for me.” 

Her face dimmed at your words. The grip around your waist loosened a bit and you frowned. “Don’t do that,” you lifted her chin ever so gently, when she dropped her gaze onto the floor. “I’m fine. We’re both fine.” 

She tried to smile at your optimism, but her worries for you were eating her from the inside. “And let’s be real,” With your arms around her neck, you tried another tactic and pulled her in for a gentle kiss. “We make quite the hell of a team, don’t we?”

Her smile stretched into something far more genuine, making your heart swell with love at the sight. “The very best–” 

“Oh– There is wine after all,” Jen observed out loud, causing you all to turn towards her. There was a lovely cruet, sat invitingly on a low dining table. “And fresh fruits.” 

“Don’t touch it,” Lilia warned. “Could be poisoned.”

“Wasn’t going to–” she retorted, with an eye roll. “I’m not as desperate as someone else here…”

Your eyes narrowed at that jibe. 

Agatha shot an eyebrow at her and clicked her lips. “Careful there, Kale. Your obsession with me might be misunderstood as a crush.”

The witch made a ick sound, “Sorry to disappoint, but you’re hardly my type.”

“Course, I’m not,” she chuckled, with a wave of her hand. “That’s all the ladies say.” 

The others shared a quiet laugh, whereas Jen spun around and growled, trotting away from Agatha. 

You sighed and tiredly pinched at the bridge of your nose, before your eyes landed on Agatha’s again and you mouthed, “what was that?” 

She shrugged innocently, a playful grin tugged at her lips. 

“There’s something else here!” Alice called out after a minute. On an armchair lingered a piece of scroll, folded gracefully with a thin, red tape. 

You all circled the protection witch in a rush, eager to  figure out whatever was written on the paper she held. As she carefully unfolded it, the tension was palpable. Without realizing it, you leaned closer to Alice, your shoulder brushing against hers. You two shared a nervous glance before she started to read. 

She dared to grasp what none could hold. Each path and twist respond to our will. We wove the threads, but she cut the rope and stitched it back with cursed skill. The lies they spun must now unwind. The debt is due; your fate aligned. 

“What does it mean?” Teen asked, looking at each and everyone of you for clarity.  

“Well, I don’t know the details but you kind of challenged the Maiori, didn’t you?” Alice trailed, her voice soft, not accusing at all. 

It brought a tight smile on your face. At least she was trying to have some tact and tolerance. “I did, yeah. Or they challenged me. Depends how you look at it.”

Agatha’s brows met in a frown, as she surged forward to grab that piece of paper from Alice to take a second look at it. Was it a warning? A threat? What did it mean for you? Were you in danger?

Lilia and Jen shared a look, before the elder one spoke, “the cursed skill would be your power, commonly known as your silver,” she continued, giving a wave of her hand to help her reasoning. 

Your lips flattened. Correct, again. 

“It’s not cursed,” Agatha grumbled, flashing her a smarted glance. “It’s her. As simple as that. Her essence is necromancy and it’s about time witches– you all stopped harrowing her for it.”

“Lilia is just trying to help, Agatha–” Teen commented. 

“Exactly. I was merely paraphrasing,” the divination witch pointed out. 

“Of course,” Agatha mumbled, still looking irritated. 

You sighed, your fingers started to play with the tips of her hair. “It’s okay, really,” you added, calm as ever. “Plus it’s not that she wrote it. It’s just part of a puzzle…”

“I hate puzzles,” to Agatha’s remark, you couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.  

“If I may interject–” Teen stepped in, snatching the scroll from Agatha’s hands, not without earning a glare from her. “I don’t think this is only your trial. I mean the message addresses a ‘she’ at first, that could be you, but then, it mentions a ‘they’ and a ‘you’ so it probably refers to more than one person,” he looks up at Agatha, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Could it be you?”

She hesitated, “I’m not sure.”

“The lies they spun must now unwind–” Alice repeated the line, trying to make sense of it. 

You averted your gaze, eyes dropping on the floor for a moment. 

Jen’s head lolled to the side, suspicious. “Does it mean that… you lied to someone?”  

You gaped, then stuttered out, “N-no, what? It doesn’t make any sense,” a forced, nervous smile tugged at your lips. But it didn’t last. “It’s not clear… it’s–” you sighed, a tad exasperated. “We need more hints. This isn’t going anywhere.”

Agatha watched you closely, catching and worrying about your sudden discomfort. It was her turn to reach out to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jen stepped in before you could formulate a response. “Maybe it wants you to tell the truth about what happened during the Salem days?”

“Yeah,” Lilia agreed, with a nod. “Since we were told the wrong version of your story,” she added, although both you and Agatha could grasp the hesitation as she stressed on the word ‘wrong’. 

“Sweet.” The succubi witch let out a short, dark chuckle as she shook her head. “And if we didn’t want to share our story? Then, what?” She dared to ask, in a mocking tone. 

Alice sighed and folded her arms over her chest. “There could be consequences.” The sudden seriousness in her tone made Agatha recoil. 

“What kind of consequences?” Your voice came out barely above a whisper. 

“I don’t know. Maybe your girlfriend should fill us in,” Jen shot back, rather boldly. All eyes turned to Jen, your collective frown deepening. “I mean, she’s been here before, hasn’t she? Or was that just another lie?”

“As I’ve already explained,” Agatha replied, her voice clipped with irritation, her eyes refusing to look at her for obvious reasons, “the road is never the same. It shifts and changes depending on the witches who walk it.”

“Oh, great. So basically, you’re useless,” Jen deadpanned, her tone dripping with exasperation.

“I don’t see how you’re making yourself useful here, Kale,” she hissed back. Hadn’t Agatha been powerless, she would have blasted that witch against the nearest wall, or mirror. Depending on how badly she wanted her hurt. 

“Guys, stop–” you stepped in, the faint beginnings of a headache pulsed at your temples. You pressed your fingertips to them, rubbing in slow circles as you fought to stay calm. “Can we not tear into each other right now? I thought I made it clear– we are supposed to be working together.”

“It’s a hard task with a witch killer giving you eyes,” she mumbled, though everyone could catch the bitterness behind her tone. 

“It’s a pity your vocabulary is as rusty as your magic,” Agatha quipped mockingly. 

Jen growled. 

“Not helping–” you gave her a pointed look. 

She lifted both her hands in surrender, “alright, fine. I’ll be good.” 

You blew a raspberry. She could fool them, but not you. 

“Umm, as you were when you killed your coven?” Jen inquired. 

Agatha stilled, her jaw tightened and this time she said nothing for herself.  The witch in pink had been dancing on thin ice for far too long, pushing and prodding without care. But this—this was the last straw. Resenting Agatha’s behavior in the present was one thing, but dragging up her past and passing judgment without knowing a damn thing about her reasons? It pissed you off. 

So you snapped. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” 

The room froze, Jen flinched, Agatha… well, she appeared pleased for a second, considering you successfully gave poor Jen a fright and were able to shut her mouthy mouth.

"You are, without a doubt, the most infuriating, insufferable witch I've ever had the misfortune of meeting. And yet, somehow, I’m not spending every single second we’re stuck here reminding you just how deeply you irritate me. Nor, might I add, am I blasting you through these walls like you so thoroughly deserve—” Your hands trembled, and before you could stop it, magic surged through your palms, a darkish hue of gray loomed over your outstretched fingertips, desperate to be lashed out, but you managed to contain it… sort of. 

Teen flashed Agatha a worried look, silently prompting her to do something. She groaned and muttered something like ‘spoilsport’ before walking up to you. That’s when she noticed your eyes turn silver. 

“Love, come on now, look at me–” her voice sounded so soft to your ears, your eyes darted towards her, but only for a mere second before turning back to Jen. 

With a sigh, Agatha stepped in front of you taking up all your front vision, and when she did, her hands opted to cup your cheeks instead of holding your hands. It was not because she believed you’d hurt her. Quite the opposite. Why? Because she was a succubus. It was in her nature to steal magic. And yours was very available and very tempting at the moment. 

“Hush, please-” she bored into those beautiful silver orbs of yours and you into her blue ones. You caught her lips curling upwards, then. “You’re sexy when you’re mad, I’ll give you that,” as she predicted, your anger dissipated, and turned into slight amusement at her evident joke. She always knew how to make you laugh, even in a situation like that. 

“Atta girl–” When magic vanished from your palms, she took a sigh of relief she didn’t know she was holding, and then pulled you in a hug. 

Once you pulled away, you looked at the others, at Teen in particular who had his lips pursed in a grimace. Had you gone too far? Had you scared him? “I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered, embarrassed. 

Teen gave you a shy smile as to tell you that no harm was done. Same did Alice and Lilia. 

Jen remained quiet. 

“You should apologize to both,” Teen told her. 

The potion witch gave him a quizzical look, “w-what?”

“I second that,” Alice quipped, with a nod of her head. 

“I hate to admit it, but you poked the bear,” Lilia continued. “Well, bears.” 

Both you and Agatha shared a look. You chuckled at Lilia’s choice of words, also pleased with the fact that finally someone was taking your side. At last. 

“Fine, ugh– whatever,” the potion witch rolled her eyes and waved her hands in mid air. “I’m sorry, alright? I went too far.”

Agatha hummed, torn. “Say that like you mean it, toots–” 

“Don’t push it-” that’s all she said, before walking away from her, and from you. 

“We will take that,” you conceded calmly. 

You knew you’d have a hard time gaining Jen’s trust, so for now you accepted her not-so-felt apology and moved on. 

Lilia’s eyes landed on something she was sure wasn’t there before, or if it was, had sat still till now, unmoving. It was an hourglass, whose wedged white sand had just started to trickle slowly. She nervously cleared her throat, then. “You know, I’d really hate it if demons, snakes or whatever ambushed us, so… whenever you’re ready…” 

“Shit… alright. Okay!”

You slumped back against one of the couches arranged in a circle around the table laden with wine and fresh fruit. “I will take a glass after all,” you muttered, with a quiet, humourless chuckle. “Maybe two.”

Agatha sat down next to you, at your right, Teen at your left, followed by Alice and Jen. Lilia took a seat across from you instead. 

Your lover gave the wine a skeptical look, as she tumbled out, “I hope this isn’t the cheap stuff,” the glass in her hand filled to the brim on its own. So did yours. 

“As long as it’s not poisonous…” you retorted, taking a long, large sip.

[tetsunabouquet]

Why Isha is the Most Misunderstood Character from Arcane S2: My Headcanons

A/N: After doing Sevika, I really just wanted to write this in defense of my little sweetheart, because the hate train against her is just dumb and occasionally downright ableist in how some people talk about her being mute. As a HF autistic woman, that shit just disgusts me so here I go!

-First of all, let's adress the hate towards Isha for 'magically fixing' Jinx. It's far less magical then you think. Ever heard of inner child work? Jinx might not have been working the classic techniques, as Isha acted as a proxy for Powder instead. That scene of Jinx just drifting off mentally as she does Isha's hair, talking about how she didn't do that with Vi? It very much gives off the vibe that Jinx would have liked to do the occasional girly things wih Vi as a child and that her inner Powder finally feels heard in that moment. They had been together for months at that point, so I doubt that was the sole moment Isha allowed Jinx to work through her problems by Isha being a proxy for her past self. -Secondly, let me adress the common criticism that she has no goal or whatsoever and is just there to idolize Jinx. You should all take some media literacy classes. She's very clearly set up as a mirror to a young Powder AND Vi, so why can't you see the obvious parallels?! Jinx has become like Vander, a symbol for the undercity and their fight against oppression but she doesn't wants to fight anymore. Isha isn't pushing Jinx into a hero role because she's a fangirl. But because she HAS a goal. Like Powder and Vi, she genuinely wants Zaun to be liberated and is trying to encourage Jinx to get back in the game just like Vi tried to do with Vander! Whilst the circumstances leading up to that were different, Isha even gets imprisoned for trying to make a stand for the undercity just like Vi did. I don't want to be hateful like you guys but seriously, do you Isha haters really need dialogue THAT badly to point out the obvious? -Isha's lack of voice also refers to her lack of family. Whilst she could be mute because of disability, there is also the possibility of her never having learnt how to properly speak as an orphan, as well as the possibility she became mute through trauma. As a mirror, it's highly likely Isha's parents were also brutally murdered. With 2 of the 3 explanations pointing into the direction of her being mute due to being an orphan, it's statistically likelier for this to be the actual reason. -Which adds an additional layer of tragedy to her character. Because going mute through trauma as well as being mute due to being a 'feral' child, can be dealt with! People tend to get over traumatic mutism and whilst feral children missed some important milestones, Isha could still be taught to speak basic sentences with the right help. This seems to be highlighted with how Isha learns to stand up for herself and be more assertive. She's crawling out of her shell and just when you could catch a glimmer of who she could become, she dies. With Sevika now being in charge as part of the Council, the aid Isha would need to regain her speech are now available to the children of Zaun. It's heartbreaking to think about the future Isha could have had if she had just survived the attack on Viktor's camp. -With how desperate Isha was to have a family- just look at how quickly she attached to Jinx and jumped at the chance to also be with Vander and Vi, it's clear the girl was dreaming of a home. Which brings me to her intentions to her sacrificing herself. If she was that desperate and traumatized, then it very likely could be that Isha rather wants to die then lose her family all over again. The fact her song ends with according to translations, 'for this is good enough for me', seems to imply that these months of having a family was what she dreamt of for so long and she can go in peace thanks to Jinx showing her love in the cruel world of the undercity.

[futurewriter2000]

Dares and Shrooms

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while but I finalyl found the time to actually finish it. I really like it becaus it's just so cutee. Hope you like it <3

PAIRING: Fred Weasley x reader

REQUEST (wattpad) @_SlytherinsLoser_: Can you please write a fred x reader, where Y/N wants attention, but fred doesnt give it to her and then Y/N does something to get Freds attention (use your fantasy here, i am very stupid and not creative)?

XX

Mother said flutter your eyelashes, give him a soft smile, fawn over him and make him believe that you were the only girl in the room.

Mother knows you best... sometimes... and sometimes, she forgets that you are not her.

Your eyes were following his figure over the tents, his laughter was very much loud and identical not only to his twin brother but all of his siblings. You have probably walked the same path, passing his family's tent, about a dozen of times and not once has he looked your way.

You remember him and since the moment you do, he has been the very much, the one. Or something. You turn romantic when it comes to love. Suddenly, you feel pain and love, you think of every possible scenario with this boy, from the moment he kisses you at your wedding to the moment you rock on chairs until the very old age. You've remembered his eyes, his hair, his every freckle that painted his pale skin but at last, you had not once made such a move on this boy.

You've been staying with your cousin and his friend, Cedric but Cedric as charming as he was, he just wasn't Fred Weasley. He was funny but he wasn't hilarious and to be honest, the two of you never connected. Besides that, Cedric pretty much gave you the same attention as Fred did- none. He was mostly with his father and your cousin. You and your cousin were just quite close and he was always quite protective of you, like a big brother. Growing up and sharing your whole life together was what made the bond so much tighter. Besides that your cousin was a half-blood and you were muggle-born, which your family never understood and spend most of their time away from you. You've been pretty much excluded from your family, so your cousin was the closest thing you had to having a family. Cedric's father always wanted a daughter, so he treated you exactly like one from the moment you met him.

"Tea, dear?" he said as he already brought a cup in his hand for you.

You smiled widely, feeling your heart flutter from warmth. "Yes, thank you."

He sat beside you. "The boys are out there playing hooligans, so I thought you and I might spend some time playing chess?" he said as he pulled out a checkboard.

"I only know how to play the Muggle version." you said as you sunk into the sofa.

"No worries, I know how to play that too." he winked and started to place down the pieces. "White or black- pick your poison."

"White." you put down your cup of tea and sat up straight.

As he placed the pieces down, a silence followed and you more times or so, you would feel uncomfortable in it but with him, it was only comfort and safety. You envied Cedric for having the father figure you had always wanted. "You know my wife was Muggle-born as well and to be quite frank with you, I was kind of an idiot to her about it at first." he said as the two of you moved your pieces. "The more I got to know her, the more I realised she was shy and insecure about her magic because it was a whole different world to her than the one she was used to as she grew up." he said and looked up to you.

"It's not easy, no." you replied, giving him a shy smile.

"She thought me this game because she didn't know how to play our version as well." he smiled. "And in my opinion, I find it less vulgar and quite stimulating for the mind." he continued, taking a pause as he calculated his next move. "At first she always beat me at this game, there was this confidence shining through it when she did. So I always let her win, so I wouldn't take away the one thing she knew more to do than me." he continued .

"But you're not letting me win, are you?" you eyed him.

"Well, you're not my wife- not near it. You've got more fiercness in you-"

His sentence was cut short when a tumble had reached the entry of your tent. Both of you shot your head and in the blink of an eye, Amos was standing in front of you with his wand out towards the intruders.

Twin boys scrambled on their feet and looked around. "Well, George, this surely isn't our accomodation." he grinned and the other laughed.

Amos sighed and put his wand away, laughing. "You boys surely know how to make an entrence."

"Apologies, mr. Diggory. We weren't watching where we were going." said George and started to back away. They both saw you sitting there and you didn't know whose eyes lingered longer on you but only George seemed to wave his hand as he backed away. "Hi, (y/n)." and they were out the door.

So this was only one out of many examples of how brief your interactions were with those boys. Pure nothingness from the boy you were falling in love with.

And so the chess game continued.

---

The night was peaceful. You could hear the crickets and the wind as you fell asleep but it wasn't until somebody in your dreams started to scream your name.

"WAKE UP (Y/n)!" you opened your eyes wildely as you hazed out of your dreams. Cedric's eyes were worriedly looking at you and you couldn't place the time and space for the life of you. "Put your shoes on- we have to run."

You didn't even think when he took you by the hand and dragged you out. "What's happening?"

"We're being attacked. " he said as he continued to rush through the crowd.

"Mark-"

"He's with my dad- I just ran to get you when the attack started. We said we'd meet at the Portkey. Or that's what I think he would want me to."

"What?"

"Just follow me."

It was cold and you could barely wake up your legs to run but Cedric was pulling you so hard behind his fast pace that your legs draged and flew behind him. He was squeezing your hand so tightly it started to hurt but you felt safe knowing you couldn't lose him due to it. He was not about to let go and you were sure of that.

The two of you came up the hill near the woods and the whole Weasley family was there already, their friends, your cousin and Amos. You looked around and you saw Fred's eyes glimpse at your holding hand with Cedric's but you couldn't let it go from the grip he held. To be honest, you didn't want to since your heart was pumping with fear and adrenaline. It wasn't until Mark came into your embrace and almost knocked you down . "Oh thank God, you're okay!" he checked you from head to toe. "I wanted to get you but the crowd seperated us and I already saw Cedric running towards the tent- Amost was pulling me away, said to trust him."

"What's happening?" you said, completely dazed and confused. It was as if everything happened in one milisecond and you couldn't place the surroundings at all. Your hand though was aching from the grip and you continued to shake it.

Cedric seemed to notice and gently took a hold of it. "Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

"No." you laughed. "But that's one hell of a grip you've got there. Surely wasn't gonna fly away."

He laughed and brushed your hand with the palm of his, soothing it and causing odd feeling appear in your stomach.

Your cheeks flushed when all of you touched the Portkey and just before the transportation, you saw Fred's eyes, looking at you intensly.

---

School started off soon after and you haven't been much active in it since it did. The drive that starts at the beginning of every school year, ran away just as fast. You promised, you'll do homework every day from the moment you get assigned... but... well... it was your cousins fault actually. He kept driving you on those little adventures.

This night you decided to go to the Forbidden Forrest... on a dare of course and you were never the one to back out of it. You were content with anything really- except the giant spiders. That was where you knew you'd probably die an excrutiating death.

You stood there, Cedric and Mark both behind you. They smiled, you waved confidently back but when you faced the darkness, your confidence died- your whole soul died.

You brushed off the fear and just started walking further and further into the forest. The dare was to bring back something to make sure you were deep into it- that you didn't cling to the coast of it.

"Okay..." you whispered to yourself as you saw there was nothing but quiet. With every step, you grew more courageous and soon you actually started to look for something that you would bring back.

And there it was... an actual glowing mushroom. Your face lit up. You knew of mushrooms but there was actually a rainbow-glowing one!- A BUNCH!

You giggled to yourself and knelt down. You couldn't stop smiling but at the same time, you couldn't tear it away. You felt awfully sorry for the little glowing thing... but you had to take something, so just so you were about to touch it-

"NO DON'T!" somebody screamed behing you and you screamed back.

"AHHHHH!!!!"

"AHHHHHHH!" they screamed back and you fell back, crawling backward away from them and looking widely. Your wand was already pointing at them and just before you could shoot, they screamed back. "No, no, no, IT'S ME, (y/N)?!" you saw the dark figure lift their arms up.

He approached you and you saw "Weasley?" and laid on your back, exhaling. "Bloody hell- you almost killed me." you closed your eyes and heard a chuckle.

"No- that thing would kill you if you fucking touched it."

You raised your head and squinted your eyes at him. "What are you doing here?"

"What are YOU doing here?" he replied.

"I asked first." you squinted suspiciously at him again and took his hand as he offered you one to help you back on your feet. And just as you felt his hand on yours, you knew who it was- exactly who it was. "So, it's Fred." you said confidently and with a gentle smile.

He smiled grinned and looked away for a while. Maybe if there was some light in the dark forrest, you would say he was impressed. "Yeah- how'd you know?"

"Easy guess." you shrugged, brushing off the thoughts in your mind. "George isn't stupid enough to be here and scream at me."

He laughed. "Touche." he replied and the two of you spent a minute in silence, just looking and smiling at each other.

"So, what are you doing here?" you asked but just as he was about to lie, you pointed your wand at him. "And don't lie because I can feel the lies brew in that head of yours."

He kept looking at you. "Let's head out and I'll tell you along the way." he said and you nodded.

A few moments after the start, he kept clearing his throat and you felt your stomach knot in little pieces. "So?"

"So..." he started. "I kind of stalked you here..." he said and you laughed, not believing him.

"Yeah, right."

"I did." he said. "I heard about the dare and I thought you wouldn't be stupid enough to actually go through it." he eyed you, grinning. "But you were." he continued and put his hands into his pockets. "I thought that those other two idiot would follow you to make sure you were alright but they just stood there and waited."

"It's- it's just a stupid dare." you said without knowing what else to say.

"You're foolish- stupid to think this Forrest isn't dangerous." he turned to you, his hands on your shoulders now.

"You're here."

"Yeah, because I needed to know you were safe-"

"You're acting like you care." you put out your lower lip but he didn't smile.

"It's not funny- it's simply idiotic." he said, looking seriously in your eyes. "And if you touched that stupid glowing mushroom- you'd be spending most of your days in the hospital wing and I wouldn't be really fond of that."

You stood in the silence for a while- surprised he even payed so much attention to you- any really. "I'm sorry." was all that you said.

"Let's just go back." he took a hold of your hand and pulled you with him but as soon as he realised, he quickly let go. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean."

"It's fine." you smiled and took his hand into yours again.

He stopped again and turned to you, inhaling deeply and looking at you with worries on his mind.

"I didn't know you'd worry about me like that."

"I do that to people I really like." he looked down and you felt your whole body freeze in that moment. Your ears stopped listening and your sight blurred out for a moment.

"You what?" you asked again. Maybe you missheard, maybe you did touch that shroom and now you were delusional.

But you weren't.

"I like you- I had liked you for a while now." he started, looking at you frequently and then back to your hands. "I've always found you quite charming and beautiful but I didn't know I liked you much until that attack on the quidditch tournament with Cedric." he shuffled his feet and you put you moved your eyes to catch his eyes. "And then when I heard about that stupid dare- you really captured my full attention and I just- I didn't believe you would be so courageous to actually go through with it- and with Cedric at this point. I guess, I kind of knew at that point that I wouldn't want to see you with nobody but me."

"That's funny." you said and he quickly tore his hand away and brushed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, it's embarrassing. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be." you said and took his head into your hands. When his eyes met yours, he knew he was worried for nothing because something in your eyes were about to tell him, that you felt quite the same- but you felt more, really. "I've always liked you too... quite a lot." you smiled and he smiled with a big sigh of relief.

"You're not just messing with me, are you?" his hands were now on your hips.

"I think that's more your job." you smiled and leaned a bit closer- where he followed you.

"Oh..." he smiled and leaned into a kiss, soft at first, just to touch the surface but your chest was burning from desire and you couldn't help yourself but grab his jacket collar and pull him closer. He understood that as a sign to deepend the kiss but he couldn't help himself to smile widely as he did. He slid his tongue into your mouth and the two of you kept kissing until you could barely get away for some breath.

You had always wanted that. You had wanted him and you never thought it was possible but he was here and he was real and you could feel his hands shaking on your hips but gripping them tighter and you could feel yourself leaning on his chest, both burning, heating up. To you, life never felt this good and you smiled with a pull.

"I really hope this isn't the shroom making me delusional."

He laughed and embraced you into a hug, lifting you up on your toes. "I was bullshitting about that. I have no clue what that shroom would do. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you."

[alianoralacanta]

Do you think it's a disadvantage to charles that he became a ferrari driver so early? Accdg to f1 stats he's the "least experienced ferrari debutante" since 1977. This could be why his f1 growing up pains is magnified tenfold because he did it/ is doing it in ferrari

I think it was both disadvantage and advantage.

For most drivers, being put into Ferrari so early would be pure disadvantage, which was the big reason Ferrari had been so cautious about promoting young drivers into its team.

Ferrari is a notorious pressure cooker. It's not just the team, although it is probably the 3rd biggest team in F1 (Mercedes and Red Bull are slightly larger, but all 3 are significantly larger than McLaren and Aston Martin). It's not just the weight of history and legend, although that's certainly played a part in the downfall of some who went to Ferrari. It's also that the Italian press mostly have eyes only for Ferrari and its fanbase is pervasive within Italy. Especially for a driver who spends significant time there, that's a big information management problem. I'm not seeing anything in Charles' performances that can be attributed to the pressure cooker. What I can see is media reaction. This is worse than it should be because Ferrari went through a rough spell and had weak leadership at key moments. Sometimes it felt like Charles was holding the race team together through sheer force of will, and I don't think the press forgave him for attempting a job that should never have fallen on one person's shoulders alone. However, that could as easily have happened to Charles at Haas as Ferrari (these being the two alternatives at the time it became obvious that he'd outgrown Sauber in mid-2018). The press have happily magnified the impression of the growing pains because it gave them something to write about that wasn't about Verstappen (whose popularity is in different geographic markets to Leclerc's) and because it discovered that Charles' reactions caused empathy - and thus sales - amongst its audience. Plus it helped curry favour with the FIA, who wanted Verstappen's titles to go with as little challenge as possible for its own reasons. There have, however, been some advantages. Charles got the validation from his dream team accepting him. It hasn't always entirely treated him with the reverence he treated it, but had it done so, the situation wouldn't have been healthy for anyone involved. He knows, however, that those members of the team closest to him will walk through fire for him. For a driver who races on hope and love, the effect of that is huge. That bonding process also gave Ferrari confidence to take more risks. It freed up the driver development program, which meant more talent being willing to enter it and stick with the program (Ollie Bearman in particular). Before Charles' promotion, Ferrari was very risk-averse to its deteriment and also that of the drivers in the scheme (I feel that way about Jules Bianchi and I know a fan who feels that way about Checo Perez). Eventually the willingness to take more staffing risks went full circle, enabling Charles to have a crew round him and back at base that stands a chance of getting a title. The risk-averse version of Ferrari that Charles might have got later could never have taken a title, though I didn't understand it until the last 24 months. Plus the promotion gave Charles some practise at managing psuedopolitics that is, sadly, very much necessary for handling the FIA. For example, I do think this went some way towards explaining why the stewards' penalty write-up for the swearing incident sounded apologetic for having to issue any penalty at all, when the one for Verstappen had been so matter-of-fact. (A matter-of-fact issuing of the fine could have been chalked up to pure favouritism. Making the stewards feel remorseful about doing their duty is a psuedopolitical achievement). Finally, it's helped Charles find his place in the Ferrari mythos. Many drivers wouldn't care about that, but a driver who does care about the Ferrari mythos has the chance to go from "very good Ferrari driver" to "part of the reason the Ferrari myth is so strong". For those people called to it, building into a myth allows one to draw strength from it at times of need. It becomes part of one's power. You alluded to there being a less experienced driver at Ferrari in 1977. He'd have understood all this perfectly. Probably would have expressed all this better than me too. His name was Gilles Villenueve.

[fromchaostocosmos]

When we get hostages back at the start of the war I was having a conversation with a family member and I told them that I think that Hamas is most likely going to release any children they have captive at the very last chance possible.

They might say at different points in time that will release the children, but what they say and what they do are two very different things.

Because children are very strong leverage and children represent hope. Which makes children sadly very valuable hostages even though children make for probably terrible hostages because they can't understand what is being asked of them. So they might cry when their kidnappers don't want them too. They can't be reasoned with like you can with adult.

And that makes it really dangerous for the children because these are people who do not care about children and so they will hurt these children to get them to listen.

And while I hope I'm wrong and that the children are released I just don't think they will be. I think they end up being some of the very last if not the last of the hostages to be released because Hamas knows what these children represent to Israel and the Jewish Diaspora and so they (Hamas) will play games.

That was what I said in the conversation then and as heartbreaking and even cynical as it is that is what I think now.

I hope and pray I am wrong. I hope and pray that these children, these babies are released. I just don't think that is going to happen. Hamas plays games with the hostage releases, they try to play mind games.

And one the most upsetting parts of all this is that the UN has not once demanded that any and all children be released from the get go. That the International Red Cross, who sure does love to be in the photos, did not and has not checked up on the hostages nor demanded that as a part of them "helping" any and all children being held hostage must be released. Because if either the UN or the Red Cross had put any sort of pressure on Hamas about the children that would have a huge difference.

But you know those are Jewish children so the UN and the Red Cross can't be bothered. No a single peep from a single UN organization about these children and babies being held hostage.

Disgusting.

[raeofgayshine]

Best decision of my life was spending my Christmas money on an art commission of the silly little au Tim I’ve been building with a friend. I got the finished piece today and just keep staring at it and it makes me so incredibly happy to see him and it’s helping give me the motivation to write (and the courage! I hit such a block with feeling like my writing isn’t good enough but this makes me want to do it anyways) and I just adore it. I can’t stop smiling. And fuck now that I’ve done one piece I can tell you now, I am already waiting for my birthday money so I can commission something else, though I still have so much time to decide what.

Art make me happy! Art of my fucking funky little guys makes my day, I’ve covered my room in fan art I’ve bought from redbubble, and now that I got over the initial scaries of my first commission, I am ready to reach out and get something else that will bring me joy.

[transmascutena]

thinking about how akio sees his younger self in utena and wondering if there's any fondness there. doesn't change the horror of what he does to her obviously but i do wonder

[quietwingsinthesky]

“least favorite” isn’t anywhere close to bad. it just shows how damn hard the competition is going, but we’re talking about gold medals all around for each actor i’ve seen portray the doctor so far.

[homosociallyyours]

...

[whentherewerebicycles]

reading about gentle parenting makes me feel insane. who has this limitless well of emotional energy to offer to their child. also you know that 99% of that emotional management stuff is going to end up being the mom’s burden to bear

[lith-myathar]

.

[muu-kun]

Speaking of fashion, I will eventually have the appropriate amount of time to dedicate myself to a proper attire headcanon post. For now, I only have examples for silhouettes pertaining to dresses gathered. Which at this point can ultimately be narrowed down in explanation as Muu holding preference for a bodice that does not require even just a modest breast size.

Although he does wear bralettes (which is not out of gender dysphoria or euphoria on any account actually. Instead, it is more so like a running joke with himself at this point due to the fact he's actually had an infatuation with wearing them since he was a sixteen year old boy that found a bra lying in the street) he doesn't do so with the intent of applying padding to them-- especially when considering the fact he has some minor gynaecomastia due to stubbornly persistent baby fat going on. He can deal with those, but he definitely doesn't want to even so much as imply he has "real breasts."

He also isn't one to gravitate towards those built around the necessity for breasts due to the fact that he does not wish for the attire adorning his body to appear as though something (or somethings) is missing. Which is also the given reason why even in his decision to wear what is considered women's underwear underneath the dresses similar to above, he does not engage in the act of tucking. Yes, that does come within treacherous territory per the fact that he is then advertising himself as a flamboyantly youthful individual with an occasionally visible (and not incredibly well endowed, mind you) genitalia outline in his attire. That's not even to mention the detectability of his disabilities on establishing conversation with him.

Beyond that, he's not too partial to much else. Length and material is otherwise irrelevant as long as he can freely move within it to accommodate an in-between active and sedentary lifestyle. He would also best appreciate those that are not overwhelming to the senses in one manner or another-- this includes itchiness, heaviness, lack of breathability, and so on. Textures usually aren't too worrisome to him, however, as he has been raiding the closet of his female friends (such as Hannah of @kannojo predominantly) for years, so by now he knows what he does and doesn't like with enough ease that even unexpectedly finding something is unappealing to him van be easily remedied without any fit.

The bottom line with all of this is while Muu strictly wears what is primarily marketed as women's clothing, he does not do so out of the desire to be a woman. In fact, he's asked that question within himself many times only to come up with the same conclusion each time: He is simply an aged up boy caught up in having to navigate too many things at once, therefore eccentricities intended to lighten his load have transpired. Being that 99% of abusers have been men throughout the years, and women his sanctuary from them, it became sensible at some point for him to cease one struggle for favor of mirroring his safety while he sources through another. Muu has no idea even how to be a person yet, let alone a gendered one.

That is also not to say he wishes to abolish entirely in favor of utilizing they/them pronouns. In fact, it still remains quite the opposite. At this time in his life, he's not looking to be othered more than he always has acquired for himself. Being gridlocked into a perpetual state of regression in his present has been isolating enough as is that he doesn't wish for more beyond that. It also has intriguingly been almost beneficial in keeping some of his identity centered, though, as being so interwoven with his inner teen provides connection with the perspective of character held back then.

When he was sixteen, he was very self assured in nearly all aspects in life until led to second guessing the bulk of them. Of those is one of which where he was well adamant that he was a boy with a preference for he/him pronouns to demonstrate that. And while he's been able to find appreciation for femininity that he'd have otherwise mocked in his youth, that is as far as it goes for the time being. Working beyond the semantics of that just isn't on the table at this time in his life.

Where he might go with it during Pride Month is still up to him, but, really, his focus is far more centered on fulfilling and answering other aspects of his person at this time. Generalized comfort and safety are of the utmost importance to his emotionally led manner of living. Once that is established, whether or not he opts for reintroducing what is considered men's attire back into his wardrobe is completely up in the air.

[timeisacephalopod]

On one hand my one sister is Big Stupid and pregnant again, which I wouldn't care as much about if this wasn't the fourth kid with the fourth shitty fucking father who will do nothing but cause even MORE pain and suffering to my sister's life, and on the other hand my other sister keeps sending me apartment ads which is very sweet because she ALSO just had a baby (in August and also her situation is stable, I'm very proud she managed to pull off what she did considering where she's come from. Her boys, especially Older Nephew were SO excited for the baby and I love listening to Older Nephew talk about his sister, it's so heartening to see him so happy and excited. Something tells me my other sisters 3 girls won't be nearly as impressed, especially not Oldest Niece and it's gotten to a point where I feel somewhat compelled to try and mentor this poor kid but I don't know SHIT about kids and don't want to let this poor kid down like everyone else has, she deserves better than that).

Granted my whole life I've preferred Apartment Sister to Making Poor Life Choices sister but also recently Making Dumb Choices has made some serious improvements to her life, very impressive ones too, so it's just disappointing to watch her backslide especially into the same bullshit she's been doing since she was 18 and is now 32. But at least I'm not the only one apartment hunting 😂😂 her efforts are super appreciated given that she just moved herself as well, plus having a fresh baby (very cute baby too). Now with any luck my OTHER sibling will get her shit together hopefully before we're on child number six with father number six with all the same fucking personality flaws and mental health problems not one of these men take even remotely seriously because that's exhausting to me let alone my damn sister.

[shithowdy]

this is your periodic reminder that for all the artifacts and errors and "tells" one could possibly list, the only reliable way to actually determine if an image is ai generated is to investigate the source. it is becoming increasingly common for "fake classical paintings" to circulate around curative aesthetic blogs, and everyone should be using this as an opportunity to not only exercise their investigative skills but also appreciate art more in general. you're all checking out the artists you reblog, right? 🫣

so what are some signs to look for? let's use this very good example.

what a lovely late-impressionist piece blended with evocative leyendecker-esque themes! why haven't you ever heard of this artist before? surely tumblr would be all over an artist like this. who is justin brown?

your two options from here are to do a search for the name, or a reverse image search. i prefer reverse image searching, particularly when it comes to a common name like "justin brown". so what does that net?

Immediately, without looking at any text, something is wrong: it barely exists. an actual historical piece would turn up numerous results from websites individually discussing the piece, but no such discussions are taking place. Looking at the text, though, does show the source-- and at least in this case, the creator was honest about their medium.

But let's also look at the "exact matches", in case a source doesn't make itself apparent in the initial sidebar results like this.

This section will often tell you post dates of images, and here it can be seen that the very first iteration of the image was posted 15 days ago. It did not exist online prior to that.

Seeing how long an unsourced image has been floating around is a skill applicable to more than just generative images! See a cool image of an artifact or other intriguing item with a vivid caption? Reverse search it! If all the results are paired with that caption and only go back a few months, you might just have viral facebook spam.

Sometimes generative creators are dishonest about their medium and do not tag it like in the example, so that's when establishing "jpeg provenance" becomes important. While it can be a little trickier to determine if someone is using generative images and not admitting to it if they aren't trying to pass it off as a classic, something to consider is the age of their account and the frequency with which they post. Here are some account red flags:

-Did they only start posting art after 2022, or if they did before, did their style/skill level WILDLY change? Not gradual improvement-- I'm talking amateur graphite portraits straight into complex digital renders. Everyone starts somewhere, newness is not a red flag alone; it's newness combined with existing in a vacuum away from any community.

-Do they post fully-finished paintings several times a week? -Do many of these paintings seem iterative of a similar theme or subject matter ("three well-dressed young men face each other under shade and dappled sunlight")?

-Does their style change in inconsistent ways? An artist that can swap between painting like Drew Struzan and Hokusai should be pretty well known, right? Why is no one hyping this guy?!

-Do they have social media besides the source instagram? If so, what are they posting about? Are there any WIPs? Doodles? Interactions with other artists? Gallery dates? 3am self-doubt posts? Or is it all self-promo? Crypto? Seemingly nothing art-related at all for someone pushing out 3 weekly paintings?

Basically, if it's important to you to omit this stuff when you curate, please don't just smash reblog if the source doesn't seem to be the OP themselves. Seeking out sources was important even before this became an issue, now it is more than ever.

peace n love