#will more than 4 people get it? probably not

[pastara-cell]

In light of recent events with iskall85 (+stressmonster?) i’d like to take a moment to thank around 98% of the community. I know its rough, and some people are upset or curious, but the community is handling it wonderfully right now, and I’m extremely proud of everyone who is taking a step back and not harassing creators. Heres a list of things we, as a community, can do to help!

1. Please don’t harass any of the Ccs! By that, I mean Hermitcraft AND vault hunters. I know that you’ve heard it a billion times by now, but I do want to emphasise that they have said they cant say much now, and they’re probably taking it more rough than we are. We aren’t owed any information, even if we would like it, so harassing people will only make the situation worse.

2. Comfort your friends with iskall or stress introjects, irls, fictionkins, alters, etc. reminder that none of this is their fault, and they should NOT be harassed for living their lives as they are.

3. Keep speculation private, or to a minimum. Its human nature of course, to be curious, but discussing it in publicly is a BAD idea. Keep it to the dms, or if you’re going to speculate in your blogs, I recommend not maintaining iskall, and putting the discourse tag in so that people can filter it out.

4. Keep your fanarts and fanfictions up until the situation is clearer, or if you don’t want them up, send them to @pearleisuma to be archived. Just because someone did something does NOT mean that you need to delete anything you worked hard on, it just means be wary making things in the future, involving them, about it, until we get more information.

4. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, Watch ANY commentary youtube channel videos about the situation. This is how false information spreads, and youtubers are going to look to make a quick buck off of anything they can use to blow up. Please only get your information from trusted sources, such as CC’s twitter pages, any videos released by Ccs/streams, or if iskall or stress make a statement themselves.

5. Dont jump to conclusions! Luckily, mumbo has tweeted out that the situation has nothing to do with minors. Jumping to conclusions will lead to misinformation, so do sit back and wait a bit before any assumptions or conclusions.

6. Take care of yourself. Its okay to be sad about them leaving, its okay to be sad that Iskall apparently did something, and its okay to be curious as to what it is about. As a fandom, try to lift eachother up and comfort eachother, rather than bring eachother down about the situation.

Keep being awesome hermitblr, and stay strong 🫶 we’ll get through this

[agoldengalaxy]

a headcanon about every gravity falls character I can think of off the top of my head:

- dipper’s chewing pen habit came from his mother, who tried to get him to stop biting his nails by handing him a pen instead. he doesn’t bite his nails anymore, but he’s uncomfortably used to the taste of ink now

- mabel learned how to knit out of spite. an adult at school told her it was probably too hard for her and she learned it all by herself out of pure rage. she can and will knit nearly 2 sweaters per week now

- stan keeps a journal to document all the things he begins to remember. sometimes he’ll be talking to ford and cut himself off mid-sentence to jump up and rush to grab his journal excitedly. he jokingly calls it journal 4

- when visiting a new city, ford decides to get a tattoo to match stan’s. finally he has a tattoo that he actually likes

- soos is BELOVED as the new mr mystery. sales are even better than when stan ran it, but he keeps that a secret from stan so as to not hurt his feelings

- along with all of the obvious stuff wendy is good at like cutting lumber and climbing trees, she also holds a world record in cup stacking

- melody is trying really hard to beat wendy’s score. they have a friendly competition. soos doesn’t understand why they can’t BOTH hold the world record. he loves them both and can’t root for either and it’s stressing him out

- once the therapism took away his arts and crafts hour, they gave bill a piano. he’s surprisingly good at jazz

- when fiddleford moves into the northwest mansion, he adopts two raccoons and one opossum from the junkyard to bring with him. he is very good at taking care of them and they adore him

- pacifica collects pokémon cards. she’s very secretive and very territorial about them. no one she battles can beat her. her favorite pokémon is drifblim

- when robbie hit puberty his hair actually started getting curly, so he straightens it every day. it is completely and utterly dead from all the heat but he keeps telling himself it’s a later problem

- gideon is coding his own website to blog his journey of becoming a better person. it’s slow-moving and frustrating but he thinks he’s…having fun??

- grenda and candy have been friends since candy moved from korea at age 6. grenda saw she was sitting alone at school and had no problem going to ask her if she liked boys. to this day candy is so grateful that grenda has always been more direct than she is

- abuelita just adores melody. she affectionately calls her mija whenever she visits

- blubs and durland have their honeymoon at disneyland. durland likes the teacups the best. they make blubs sick but he does it for him

- lazy susan’s home is full of home goods decorations like “I like cats more than people” and “autumn leaves and pumpkins please!”

- toby determined finds himself settling well into his role as bodacious t. although shandra jimenez still doesn’t like him back, she’s nicer to him now. she even introduced him to a friend of hers, whom he has taken on several dates

- mayor tyler still likes to gossip and encourage fighting whenever he can, even within his own office. he insists upon a good natured rivalry with the neighboring towns, which results in some destroyed property. his approval rating is through the roof

- blendin blandin finally discovers xanax

[whokilledsamara]

SHIGARAKI NSFW ALPHABET

{ gift for my beautiful wife ~ @nutsnhonie }

warnings || smut, asphyxiation, fear play, blood kink, marking, rough sex, biting, vouyerism, {more,, but i cant rly think of what to put}

{an: wife wife wife wife wife wife}

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he cant do much honestly, due to his quirk, but he will hand you things like a wet rag,, water bottle,, etc. even though he is an asshole, he still cares about you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite is your hair, since he cant harm that by touching it. but from afar his favorite is definitely your thighs.

on HIMSELF,, he doesnt like much. though he is proud of his dick for some reason,,,

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he doesn't cum as much as the others, but he still fills you up, hence the name "creampie"

will almost always do it inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he definitely watches you masturbate, or watches you while HE masturbates. plug a lil weird but he chill,,

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

hes fucked hookers, or anyone the was willing, but he never cared for them or cared if they finished or not. therefore he is more experienced in HIS job at it. not so much the other things.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy style. though he holds your hips like a british person and their teacup, its still his favorite position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

doesnt find humor attractive during sex. therefore he is definitely the serious type.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he has a good amount of hair, but keeps it maintained. same color as the hair on his head and has a niiiceee happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

not very romantic, but does love you. will probably be romanticish AFTER the sex. still cant fathom the fact that you want him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

does it when you arent there. when he is really pent up with stress from either a mission or something else, then he will find different ways to touch himself. just wants to get off a few times.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

asphyxiation, blood play, the usual. he definitely likes choking you to the best of his abilities without actually killing you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his room, though anywhere you want him to fuck you he totally will.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you in general, but theres just something about seeing you covered in blood that sparks a match in him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

coprophilia or anything nasty like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers giving, seeing it as his best way of getting you off. his chapped lips definitely make the job easier. he does enjoy receiving though as most people do.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough definitely. will only slow down if you beg him too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

absolutely. he loves taking risks of someone catching you. also if he is in a time crunch he will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

this is Shigaraki we are talking about. of course he will. enjoys inflicting pain on you, risking being caught, etc

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

for him around 4, but thats just for him. if he is going down on you than it doesnt matter. he can go as long as you need him too. gets him out of team things anyways.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

has a few small vibrators that he collected for you. mainly for when he isnt there, though he definitely doesn't mind using them during sex with you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

teasing is almost constant with him. he enjoys watching you squirm and watching your face flush up with embarrassment.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

aside from grunts and huffs, he doesnt make much noise. if you manage to get him in a submissive manner {unlikely} then he will whine from overstimulation.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

absolutely into marking. likes licking blood from cuts he inflicts on you, or marking you with hickeys or bites. another one would be fear play. enjoys watching you squirm with fear as he pretends like he is about to actually touch you fully.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

his torso and arms are toned and he is littered with scars from either fighting or missions. his dick is around 7-8 inches hard, with a slightly darker tip than his skin.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

most likely high from all the pent up anger, but wont force himself on you. {maybe in another fic....}

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

will wait for you to fall asleep until he does, but sometimes he doesnt sleep at all after.

hope you like,,, im not used to his character much since i left the fandom a while ago.

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[avelera]

Something something… through Viktor’s actions we see his possible linear mental checklist of his goals in life, and those goals included eventually confessing his feelings to Jayce, but before he did he felt he needed to do other things first. Namely:

1) Make Hextech a reality - Check. Viktor and Jayce actually achieved this one by 1.04. They could continue to refine forever but you can tell they both felt a sense of accomplishment in this.

2) Give Hextech to the people - Incomplete. At the end of S1 they had the refined Hextech crystals but the full benefits of their work had not reached the masses. Nor would it/should it ever.

3) Help the Undercity - incomplete, arguably completely unaddressed or even undermined by their work. The Hexgates drew Piltover’s attention away from the Undercity, which is why it languished while Piltover looked to distant markets. Hextech materially made life worse for the Undercity, as the alternate timeline showed us.

4) Hextech innovations lead to a cure for Viktor’s disease and disability - Successful but in the most horrifying way possible, including a body count.

5) Profit - Confess his feelings to Jayce.

(Don’t get too hung up on the order here because obviously a lot of these things could happen concurrently and I don’t think Viktor is stupid he would know that Hextech innovation could take a lifetime and probably wouldn’t wait to confess to Jayce just for that endlessly moving finish line.)

BUT, joking aide, I truly DO think that Viktor is kind and empathetic at his core and he really didn’t plan to confess his feelings to Jayce until he found a cure for his disease, which would require a lot of Hextech innovation to have any hope of reaching. Literally it would take a miracle.

I think Viktor’s belief in his own inadequacy could have festered in the painful doldrums of his own rapidly advancing illness after the initial glow of making the Hexgates happen.

Any hope of finding a cure was always remote, but as his illness advanced, this is when he may have even begun to push Jayce away, knowing the inevitable was coming. He certainly wouldn’t confess feelings to someone he loved with his days so numbered.

And that’s where I think a thread of actual resentment towards Mel might have crept in. To be fair, I don’t think Viktor hated her as a person, as such, nor was he a swooning teenager wracked by petty jealousy. But I think it must have stung to have his days so numbered and have this woman who represented everything he couldn’t offer to Jayce: health, wealth, beauty, position, prestige, etc distracting his attention away during what might be Viktor’s final days.

The thing is, I think rationally Viktor didn’t say anything because again, his days were numbered and Jayce and Mel were happy and well suited and beautiful and perfect together. He had nothing to offer. And it would be cruel to drag Jayce back just so Jayce would have to mourn him even more. Then as a result, Viktor was even more consumed by trying to save his own life by a miracle, though he now had to do it more alone than he ever predicted he would have to.

But there’s that horrible catch 22. He can’t tell Jayce how he feels because he might fail and die anyway and that would be cruel to someone he loves. But if he doesn’t tell Jayce, Jayce won’t come back to his side to help him out with the research needed to maybe save it.

Then Sky dies to the Hexcore and Viktor realizes just how much he’d lost of the parts of himself he liked, the parts that cared about helping others as PART of the cure for himself, and truly just gave up on any of it. He made his peace, decided to support Jayce during the emancipation of Zaun as a sort of ambassador, and resigned himself to the fact this would be the end for him.

Well, we know what happened next. Jayce saved his life, against Viktor’s wishes, using Viktor’s now-hates innovation.

Ok so now for the part that I was trying to get to:

A newly healed Viktor now has to reevaluate his life’s work checklist. It’s a much shorter list now.

1) Save his own life - check.

2) Figure out a way to make the world a better place - check.

3) Confess to Jayce now that you’re proud of who you are both inside and outside. You are finally worthy of him. You will finally live long enough that confessing isn’t an act of cruelty. You finally have achievements that make you worthy to proposition the creator of Hextech and the man you love, who is as far as you know, currently dating the physical embodiment of perfection.

And that explains Viktor’s catwalk into the Council Chamber in 2.08. He’s decked out in Mel’s colors. He’s ready to compete. He’s perfect now. He’s found a way to save humanity from itself. He is now worthy of Jayce and in a place where he can actually offer a lifetime together.

And Jayce rejects him.

This stuns Viktor. Actually, it fully knocks him into a villain arc, because Jayce has never refused him anything before. And Viktor can’t comprehend why his checklist didn’t work. Why did becoming perfect not work?

Because Jayce didn’t need the checklist. He’d already broken up with Mel. He didn’t need Viktor to be healed or to have already saved the world or to be anything else but Jayce’s partner. Jayce would have been happier if Viktor proposed at Step 0, but Viktor thought that would be a cruelty if he didn’t have a cure yet.

But I truly think Jayce would have preferred even just a day as Viktor’s official partner if that was all they got over a decade of being held at arm’s length until “everything was perfect”.

And that’s what Viktor doesn’t understand.

And that’s what Jayce had to show him in that final act of love.

[baocean]

starting over - rafe cameron [two]

smau! rafecameron x youtuber!reader

summary: you’ve moved back to the obx after 4 years of growing your career in california. your friendships stayed afloat during your time away, you can’t say the same about your relationship. but rafe hears your back in town, and it set on not letting you go this time.

masterlist! | one | two | three |

sarahcam: so so so good to have my girl back

ccccleo: seriously nothing better than this

kiaracarrera: brings tears to my eyes

jbroutledge: girlhood ✨

↳ sarahcam: okay john b

popeheyward: THE GIRLS!!!!

yourusername: i’m never leaving again if i try chain me to a pole ☺️

↳ sarahcam: chain to pole got it anything else?

yourusername posted a story!

you set up your camera, sitting criss cross applesauce in front of it, your phone in your lap.

“hi it’s yn! it’s been super busy with my move back to the obx, so i thought i would give you guys an opportunity to ask about my new experiences or my old ones!”

“i posted on my instagram story about an hour ago, so let’s read some questions!” you smiled at the camera, then did some scrolling.

“oh this one is a good one! what are you most excited to be able to do now that you’re home? being home with my family and friends all while being able to vlog and film videos is such a comfort, i’m so grateful to be able to continue my career while being home with my favorite people.” you nodded, moving on.

“hair care routine? wash every other day, leave in conditioner, hair oil, try not to use heat- but if you do, wear heat protectant! usually, i get a trim every couple months to keep my hair healthy and growing!”

your eyes brushed over a question that had your heart beat out of your chest.

“are you and rafe going to reconnect now that you’re back in the obx?” you paused, giving the camera a superficial smile, “hmm since he broke my heart, probably not. but thanks for the question!”

you would cut that part out later.

liked by: sarahcam, popeheyward, kiaracarrera, and 501,362 more!

yourusername: always dancing

sarahcam: i literally love you with all my heart

jjmaybank: seriously these two! such cuties! my goodness!

↳ kiaracarrera: so funny j! 😐

↳ yourusername: he’s getting blocked ☺️

jbroutledge: can i have a single day alone w my gf pls im begging you

↳ yourusername: no!

popeheyward: duo of a lifetime (besides me and @ccccleo)

↳ ccccleo: ❤️

user: your video today I LOVEDDDD ITTTT

↳ user: she didn’t answer my question :/// i asked about r*fe

↳ user: censoring his name is crazy work 😭

[ebenelephant]

Look, I think you're misconstruing some of my points and since this is reaching way farther than I wanted I would like to clarify for a second. This was kind of a bit of a rant post which I didn't expect people other than like 4 mutuals to... see? So as you can imagine I wasn't exactly my best articulated. Some of my points have definitely come across wrong, so to try and explain what I mean a little better:

I'm not saying we should see more flashbacks to Tom's life. This is a criticism I have of this plot point not being thought through, more than anything. It tells us something other that what was probably intended because you get the impression that Rowling didn't really consider the wider implications of what she was saying in the time period it was set. I'm not suggesting this should be delved deeper into, I'm just suggesting that it wasnt the best thought through.

With the Weasleys I just messed up the timeline on this one. I do genuinely have issues with some of the portrayal of the Weasleys which I won't get into, but this one is my mistake.

The Snape one is more of a personal gripe. My tongue in cheek remark about being "surprised you caught onto that" is in reference to the fact that I have heard/seen multiple people just glossing over that context to his life entirely - either because they missed it of because it was too minor for them to care.

My issue with the Hermione thing isn't actually that she obliviated her parents – as you say, this makes sense with her character – but rather how underutilised they are. We meet the parents and guardians of other, less important characters when they're thematically and narratively relevant, and given how important Hermione's status as a muggleborn is in the books you would think they would be both. It always seemed a weird choice to me that her parents are practically non-entities, spoken of occasionally but never seen. It's the show-don't-tell thing: we are told that Hermione loves her parent a lot, and of course we know this to be true, but the biggest time they are really relevant is when she obliviates them. Even if Harry had just seen them once, maybe sending Hermione to platform 9¾, and had seen them in contrast to the Dursleys this would have given them more weight. Hermione is distraught, but we as the reader are much less emotionally involved because we have no idea who these people are.

The Lily point honestly feels like a bad faith arguement, because she was never just 'the main character's long dead mum', she was the person who saved him, who made him the chosen one, who is referenced throughout the series, and who is directly related to the actions of multiple characters. I would literally just like consistent characterisation for her, because the way she is spoken about doesn't align with the ways we see her acting in the few scenes she has, and even in those scenes she is somewhat contradictory. This is never addressed by Harry the way it's addressed when he learns the negative qualities of his father – though in a book targeted at a 9-12 audience you would certainly expect it to be. This makes me think, again: oversight. Kids books have to guide the reader somewhat, and this aspect doesn't really do that. Could've been a great addition to that "nobody's perfect" theme JKR had going, but wasn't executed in a way properly accessible to a nine year old as opposed to other points in the series.

thinking again about jk rowling being a bad writer. like, we all know about the massive flaws in her worldbuilding and i hope by now it's clear she's a bigot on basically every front. (hello, regular reminder that she doesn't even actually like women.) but like. she's especially good at dropping bits of lore and then those not being relevant in the fucking slightest. riddle was told to go home to his orphanage in london during what would have very much been the blitz? whatever. the weasley's are so strapped for cash that they're sending their son to school with a potentially dangerous broken wand? of course they're spending their lottery winnings on visiting their adult son in egypt, what else would they do. snape grew up in what was likely a dying northern industrial town with abusive/neglectful parents, largely cut off from the magical world? almost impressed you caught on to that, with how little it's expanded on. yes hermione has a supposedly good relationship with both her parents, no we're not going to show you it at all, yes she's going to wipe they're memories like it's nothing. lily evans is the moral compass of james and basically the most important person in the series but fuck you if you want to actually know anything about her lmao. even what little we see is wildly inconsistent.

[enkays-den]

And You Could Have It All/My Empire of Dirt

(Wild Life Session 6 Spoilers)

1.1k words, mentions of character death, nothing crazy violent

The first thing to go is the Bamboozler's base. it's spiteful, but Jimmy did land that kill on Mumbo that they never got proper revenge for. He burns the parrots one by one, scorches the cherry trees until its black instead of pink and green. He takes special delight in tearing down the reputation board. It's the only little spark of joy he feels.

Next is B's initial base. He turns the creaking forest to ash, feeling smoke fill his lungs with every breath. He killed Skizz, plain and simple. No dignity of a fight, just an ambush of a poor, stupid, lovable man. Later he found out via a guilt-ridden Impulse that they had taken advantage of a moment where Skizz was being stupidly valiant and took his armour off around Lizzie. It was stupid, but it wasn't supposed to end in death.

That was the last thing Impulse told him before he pushed him off the Spanner's TNT bridge. Grian had at least given him the small kindness of letting him fall where his best friend had, before taking care of the rest of his crew. Impulse out of everyone else, truly understood the pain of outliving Skizz.

The bases of the 4 G's are razed with ease. The second one even more so, with TNT traps and a full to the brim creeper farm underneath. It almost sounded like fireworks. He didn't want to think about TNT explosions. That's how they both went out. They were just having fun they weren't even hurting anyone what the hell did they do to DESERVE--

Ren and Martyn's sky-high treehouses become an unholy beacon of flame. They didn't even do much to them. He would have been angry at Martyn for the penultimate kill on Skizz, but it really was an accident, and Martyn had been horrified when Skizz died right in front of them. And he seemed repentant for the breeze charge kill. But that might have had something to do with the sword slowly cutting into his windpipe.

The Family's car and base was still besieged by ravagers, evokers, and raiders of all sorts from Joel and Gem's last stand. Grian wasn't touching that place with a ten foot pole. And they were probably the ones that were nicest to his boys, anyways. Gem had been to the point of exasperated at Skizz's performance and was always pushing him to do better. Despite being a powerhouse of a duo, they had never been threats.

Grian stands atop the TNT launcher, newly calibrated and aimed. He stood VERY far away from the speeding minecart in its little loop. This is where all of it happened. Where his lads had died, so suddenly and so pointlessly and so soon. Why them? They were two of the most harmless people of the lot of them. Was this a joke to them?

Grian pulls a lever, and the cart launches into the air. He goes to the end to watch it sail down, down, down, landing squarely on what was remaining of Tango's wood house. Most of it gets obliterated in the blast.

Sure, Tango had already gotten his comeuppance. Hunted for sport by Jimmy and Lizzie and B in honor of Skizz, or perhaps in penance of their actions against their little team. Their--quite literally--little trio. Tango had been brought to him by a triumphant Jimmy, tied up and gagged, and Grian got to have the honor of ending his final life. Not that it would bring anything back.

Jimmy scurried away after that, knowing the dark look in his eyes spelled trouble. And he was right. The next step up of the wildcard was so much worse than before. Endless night, a darkness so suffocating it quickly drove everyone insane with paranoia. The comfort of the sun would never be experienced again. Not when the lights of Grian's lives (this time around) were snuffed out.

Grian sends another minecart down. And another, and another. The pit that once was Tango's base is a crumpling maw of earth, rock, and scorch marks, going deeper and deeper. But it can never match the hole In Grian's chest.

If he was going to finish what his Spanners had started, he was going got damn well finish it.

He only stops when everyone's supply of explosives are depleted. That will have to do.

Finally, he flies over to the two makeshift graves he dug. Not that there was any body to bury. He runs his blackened fingers over the signs he placed, his silly epitaphs were all he could write, because if he spoke from the heart, there wouldn't be enough paper in the world to talk about how much he loved Skizz and Mumbo. It was fun and careless and joyful and laughter, and then his world became silent.

He hits between the two stone monuments and sighs, exhaustion fills his lung, alongside the smoky air. "Lads, it's just me left." His voice is hoarse from disuse. He can't remember when he spoke last. Maybe Skizz's funeral.

"Everything is burnt down. Spanners won. I'm so sorry that I didn't bring you with me."

A crackle and a crash from far above signals another fallen cherry tree.

"It's so bloody stupid. This time, I got to have fun with how things went, I had full control. And I lost you so fast. Maybe I should have been keeping a closer eye on you. Or done something to make it easier."

He receives no consolation or comfort, which is how he knows Skizz is truly gone. And Mumbo isn't here to bring that strangely driven attitude.

"It's not enough to bring you back, but I hope you can accept all of this as an apology." He prays a world without them going up in a hellish blaze is worth something to them.

What good was he, as a being with incredible power if he could only use it to play silly little games, and not save the people he chose?

"I don't think I can claim I won for you, because this doesn't feel like winning."

In the distance, a booming crash that could only be Ren and Martyn's bases falling echoed across the land.

"I did live for you, though. I lived beyond all the rest for you."

The endless night grew darker with smoke and ash. It smothers and suffocates and chokes and burns. Good.

As the darkness starts creeping around the edge of his vision, as the smoke starts to sear his lungs, Grian thinks 'at least next time, we'll be able to laugh about this'.

He loses consciousness, and he is crowned winner.

YEAH IM FEELING A WAY ABOUT THIS WAHHHHHHHHHHH MY BOY

SKIZZLEMAN YOU DID SO GOOD HONEY

[gayferrari]

okay i am coming to you as carlos fan who loves charles to my core (he is my soul sister!!!) but only ever roots for him for ferrari reasons, trying to see this from charles fans pov how is anything that happened tonight carlos’s fault and not just ferrari’s fault… like i try to be critical and i love to shit on carlos when he is stupid (bc he is stupid a lot) (for example spain24 i fear i am not on his side there) but ferrari fucked carlos over so bad today with his pit stop like i truly believe the thing that happened with charles was more of a fuck you to ferrari and not anything to do with charles at all so like i get why charles fans are upset but… i don’t know again would like to hear your thoughts on tonight

DISCLAIMER VIEWS MY OWN (as in. I don't speak for all Charles fans and probably not even a majority of them about this. and I enjoy it when athletes are petty and angry and grudgy and let out their ugly sides)

my first takeaway is that it's truly not that deep. Like, yeah, it's race day emotions are running high but so are the emotions of the guys in those cars. they're gonna get out of the car, calm down, shower, go on with their lives, and not think half as hard about this stuff as fans do, and some fans will remain upset for far longer than their blorbos will ever remember this. I think it is good to keep in mind before getting worked up

what happened: [regardless of garage 55 brainfart moment] Charles was ahead before the pit stops. At the pit exit, Bryan told Charles that Carlos had been told not to fight him and he should just focus on tyre temp instead of defending; Carlos went ahead and overtook him anyway. (That's when Charles said "Next time tell him in Spanish") Later, when Max was right behind Carlos and Charles was trying to overtake Max, Carlos was really slow. Like, there's speculation on reddit that he was feeding Max DRS <- not saying it happened (WE will never know) BUT he was slow enough that other people went "Wait this is weird," and his frustrated teammate would have noticed. If EYE was fighting for the wcc and I even suspected my teammate put someone else between the two of us (costing the team points) to protect his individual race, I would also go off about it. Regardless of whether it's true. Again! Not saying this is what happened and we will never know, but earlier in the race Carlos was definitely told not to overtake, and did it, and between the two of them he's the one with a history of ignoring team orders.

EYE (tumblr user gayferrari) have my own opinions. nuance button. I don't think you should get a gold star for being a "good teammate" or that following team orders is always the right thing. But CHARLES clearly values it, and in the past he's actually put his money where his mouth is and pulled his weight even when it cost him individual points, and I can understand he'd go on a heated tirade for 4 seconds when he's high on adrenaline. I don't think any of this should be a big tell about Charles's personality, team dynamics, his relationship with Carlos or whatever. I think he just spoke without a filter for a couple seconds, and I believe in taking these kinds of radio moments with a big pinch of salt. I'm gonna RPFy the shit out of this because I am on f1blr to have fun not to get angry. But I don't agree Charles was mad at the team, it was a very much "other side of the garage" kinda moment.

(*) note also that Carlos was told to swap with Charles earlier and DID do that, but after a few laps / because he was struggling with pace + very early on, when Charles dropped P2 -> P4, he was the one who spontaneously brought up letting Carlos pass because he knew he was struggling. So they both had moments where they were collaborating this race. I'm bringing this up for completion's sake, like, yeah Carlos swapped when asked even if late! But he also overtook when told not to

I hope this clears it up! Again, it's MY view that it's not that serious because we all choose how to enjoy sports and I'd much rather get angry about other things I feel matter more, and leave the petty drama as RPF fodder. But everyone enjoys sports differently so I can't speak for others

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 5

"that's why i said ain't no love" (finale)

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SERIES SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 4 / PART 5 / EPILOG. →

chapter summary: [MULTI-POV] Miles has been a ghost, so you decide to do your own digging. Your answer might have just found you first.

content/warnings: graphic depictions of violence and injury grieving, death

word count: 8.7k (WHAT)

a/n: hey 😁 there's gonna be a teeny tiny epilogue after this one but this is the official end to aint no love! thanks to @/qiuweyballs forever for proofreading this series wouldn't exist without him 🙏

"I need that edit by 3pm, Watson!"

"Got it."

Even if the office was filled with the constant clack of keyboards, or desk phones ringing, or even Jameson himself barking right by her ear — as he was right now — MJ still had to keep up her persona. Agreeable, non-confrontational, all part of company protocol. There was no time for personal opinions or rebuttals, other than Jameson's; she was sure everyone would start coming in tin hats if it meant keeping their jobs.

"You're falling behind, you know," he continued as she quickly clicked off of the email she was working on. "Going to that school fair of yours set you at least a week behind!"

"It was one afternoon, sir. And I'm all caught up, the edit's not due until—"

"The edit is due when I say it's due. You out of all people should understand how things work around here by now. Get it done!"

The man sauntered off without much opportunity for her to reply, a cup of coffee crumpling between his fingers that he probably had yet to take a sip of. The poor intern that had made it would be the next to get an earful when he did try it, she was sure. Too much sugar! Not enough milk! Did you make this with your eyes closed? she recalled. MJ had heard it all by now.

Jameson didn't really have the gall to fire her — she knew that at the very least. The article could wait, however. Visions was yet to release a statement about their fired teacher, and the article would just look like all their other ones — speculatory and clickbait-y with not very much actual information. The Sinister Six ones certainly did well though, always on their broadcasts and the front of their website. Even NNC didn't have as much notoriety as the Bugle did with its less-than skeptical audiences.

The Visions student, right. With a few pasted links and a couple attachments, along with a lackluster "Good luck!" tacked on the end, she hit send. Good to know kids still have dumb email addresses.

She didn't take being abandoned a second time at the fair personally, really — everyone was fifteen once — but she couldn't help but wonder what had happened. It was almost imperceptible, but she knew when a smile looked off. There was something noticeably different about you when you had come back.

"MJ, uh, can I get your business card by any chance?"

"You know what a business card is?" she had joked, but it hadn't done much to ease the discomfort. "Yeah, sure. Contact me if you need anything."

"Yeah, thanks."

You'd asked for articles. Specifically on the Chameleon, and on the recent Prowler activity. You hadn't told her much, just that you needed help compiling some information for school. Some... presentation. MJ wasn't sure whether it was a lie or not, but it was all publicly available information anyhow.

You'd also wanted any information on Visions "teacher", Garrett East. His arrest had been for identity theft, and nothing more. Not many had reported on it as of yet, given he was detained so recently, but you were an insider. He had apparently been your calculus teacher, and the man that he had stolen the identity of had supposedly gone missing a few months before Garrett returned in his place. At least, that's all she had of her article. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to send it to a random high school student before her own boss, but it also wasn't like the man had any real idea what went on in his company. It was a wonder they managed to get through the quarter.

It was just a favour for someone nice she'd met. Maybe it'd repay her in some way in the future, most likely not. Regardless, she couldn't help but smile a little when she noticed her phone light up, a "thank you" text under your name. If only she actually had a work phone number, and it wasn't just her regular one. Visions students making connections already, it seemed.

The time on the screen was 2:41pm. She was met face to face with her wallpaper once again — a low-lit picture of her and a brown-haired man with glasses, the two of them smiling, red faced and dressed like their college selves. Peter Parker, her fiancé. They were holding those terrible beers he'd sworn by. He was a photographer, but this was one of the only pictures he'd taken of them together. It was shot on a bite-sized digital camera they'd bought for college, but never ended up using much. Now, it was all she really had.

Maybe the Chameleon really had come back when Peter had gone missing. Maybe it had something to do with you, with Visions

You probably already had a lot on your plate. And so did she. If she had anybody to chase, it was Otto Octavius. He'd offered Peter an internship in Manhattan. She'd never seen the man herself, only heard from him how good of a person he was, how this was going to get him a job and that it'd be good for them. That he'd finally get some use out of his degree and get to pursue science instead of taking "crummy" pictures for the Bugle. That they could save up for their wedding, and...

That was in Manhattan. The disappearances now were in Brooklyn. And even then, it was coming close to a year since he had disappeared.

She was always running in circles, at the command of an old man with a head too big for his body.

2:43pm. MJ turned off her phone, sliding it into her pocket.

Better get this edit finished.

2:43pm. Wednesday.

Ideally, with a couple days off of school, you would probably be at home, or maybe even out doing something fulfilling with your life. Maybe you could've even gone somewhere with Miles, if he hadn't up-and-disappeared along with every trace of him.

Your unread messages to him faded to black, leaving you to stare at your own face. Maybe you could've used those extra days to sleep, if it hadn't been for the chilling glow of purple eyes or the melting disfigured face that threatened to materialise everytime you closed your eyes.

What did he even like? Comics that he'd mentioned to you once? Of course he'd want to go to a comic book store with you after you'd made fun of him for seeming to want to deal with criminals himself. If only he'd come save you from Brooklyn Public Library right now. You were certain it couldn't get any more swampy in here with all the Visions students scrambling to do their off-day work right now.

Reading through the reply to a ballsy request you'd given to the Bugle's head journalist, you had a few questions in mind other than the ones concerning your disappearing, sort-of friend. Was all this research really practical? Maybe not. Would it help you sleep to know that the guy that had been teaching you calculus since the start of sophomore year was actually posing as a man that had gone missing months ago?

Another very normal thing that only seemed to happen to you.

Maybe you just attracted bad luck. That girl in your history class had joked about it last year, after you'd bumped into your teacher and every single paper he'd been holding had fallen to the ground in one scattered disaster. She wouldn't let it go, and it appeared that your brain wouldn't either.

Or like that time you went to Oscorp on a visit day and happened to be the only one there, trapped with a shapeshifting monster and the Prowler on the 90 millionth floor of that god-damned tower.

Maybe it was bad luck, or maybe you were cursed — or maybe you just walked into these situations on purpose. Like right now, sifting through years of articles on real criminals, with nothing but a hunch or fifteen.

The Chameleon had been arrested, like Miles had said, eight years ago on accounts of identity theft, much like your "teacher" but also very little like your teacher. According to what you were reading, Dmitri Smerdyakov been dubbed "the Chameleon" for a string of carefully orchestrated take-overs of big companies after impersonating their CEOs. His defence had argued that the big names in these companies were gone because they "wanted to be free of the burden of running their own companies".

You didn't have to be a journalist to make a face at that.

There was no mention of shapeshifting, as you'd seen with Wellston and Stromm. Just a couple lousy identity theft charges that didn't add up to their total amount anyway. This guy had more luck than you'd ever had.

The only other person that had seen any "shapeshifting" happen was Miles, and although he'd seemed surprised, something about his reaction was strange. You couldn't place it, but there was some sort of analytical twinge in his eyes, as if he was solving a math problem and not looking at someone shapeshift for the first time. You didn't know anything, really. Miles seemed like he did, though. If only you could bump into him and wring it out of him. And maybe go buy overpriced comic books with him and forget about the fact that your teacher had been arrested and midterms were coming up and maybe even become actual friends.

If only you were that lucky.

If only it was that easy to move past, as well. The fact that someone that had been involved in disappearances 8 years ago might be mixed up with this, along with the recent uptick in missing people made you feel uneasy. Surely any detective would have put two and two together by now, but remembering the fact that the shapeshifter had turned into a literal police officer dissolved any reassurance that thought might've brought. You were in a public library surrounded by unoptimistic college students, parents with their kids and even some of your own classmates, but the feeling was completely your own, tucked away behind a computer screen and a booked monitor session.

You couldn't be scared, though. You'd already seen probably the scariest thing in your life, kind-of almost died, and been wound up in so much craziness you knew so little about. If only high school had prepared you for researching literal criminals.

"Your 30 minute session is over. You will be logged out shortly."

God damn it.

If only Brooklyn Public Library's computer sessions weren't 30 minutes. You didn't want to log back in anyway, not if someone had booked after you. You could go back home, the library had just been an excuse to get out, really. Not that you'd made a whole new email and signed in as a guest on the computer. Not that you were paranoid.

Picking up your bag and checking your messages one last time you made a beeline for the exit. Well, less of a line and more of a strange obstacle course through the swarm of people. And of course you had to knock into someone. Just your luck.

"Hey, sorry," you mumbled, hands raising just a little in apology. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." The person dusted themself off a little with a frown, before looking up to meet your eyes.

Rafael?

"Hey, it's you," he realised, eyes widening as if he'd just gotten lucky.

Out of all places...

"I... gotta go."

"No, no, wait. I need you to do something."

Of course you do.

"I really don't have the time," you whispered back, as he caught up to your advance towards the doors.

"Uh, hey, listen... You talk to Miles, right? Like, he's your friend?"

"Yeah...?" No...? You weren't even sure at this point.

"Uh, look, I need you to tell him something..."

"What, you're in love with him?" you spat, finally looking at him again. "Cause it seems like it. You're always talking about him. Always talking to me about him."

"What?! No the f*ck I'm no—"

A much louder "shhhhhh!" got your attention. The librarian didn't look too pleased. Neither did any one of the people who turned to look at you.

"I'm not gay, man!"

So, the two of you were now out on the street as Rafael defended his sexuality with nothing but exasperated hand gestures.

"I didn't say that."

"Okay, well I'm not. Damn, why are you acting weird for?"

"Your face is red."

"I'm black!"

"That melanin isn't doing anything for you."

"Shut the f*ck up!"

You rolled your eyes, hiding the way the corners of your mouth were starting to lift with a deep exhale. The poor guy was not very discreetly checking his face right now with the back of his hand.

"What, then? What did you wanna say to him so bad?" you asked, instantly making him retract his hand from his cheek.

"Forget it."

"No, tell me. You got us all the way out here for no reason?"

He gave you a look, before promptly looking away, mumbling something under his breath.

"Didn't hear that." That made him groan loudly. It was akin to a petulant child, if not a few octaves deeper.

"I'm... sorry."

Huh?

"You're... sorry?" you repeated, making him let out a huff.

"Look, I..." Rafael met your eyes again, his narrowing uncomfortably. There was something strange in his expression. "My mom's missing. I dunno who to tell. I know I messed up and I... I get it now. I get it. The thing with his dad."

Oh sh*t.

Remorse. That was what you were seeing in his eyes. Or maybe regret. Neither you thought you'd ever see from him.

"Tell him I'm sorry. Or don't. Whatever," Rafael muttered, kicking a bottle cap on the ground until it skittered to a halt by a dog, who found interest in it as its owner tried to tug it along the pavement.

"You can't tell him yourself?" you replied, brows furrowing. As bad as you felt, this was a personal matter. You weren't about to be a parrot for the guy that hadn't grown out of his bullying phase.

"You think he'd listen?"

"It's understandable if he doesn't."

"And what if he doesn't come back?"

"Why..." What? "Why wouldn't he come back?"

"I... dunno. Why can't you just tell him?"

Huh. "Why wouldn't he come back, huh?"

Rafael gives you a sort of reserved look, as if he's contemplating whether or not to lie to your face.

"I heard something about him while I was in that office. He's like... withdrawing from the school."

"He's... what?" Withdrawing from the school? Could he even withdraw that fast? "Why?"

"I dunno, damn! Just... forget it. I don't know why I even asked you man."

Rafael turned to leave, a scowl forming on his face.

"Hey," you called out, looking away before he could meet your eyes. He didn't turn around, though.

"What?"

"...I'm sorry about your mom," you managed, before he could go far enough. "I hope they find her."

"Yeah," he muttered, before throwing his hood over his head.

And now your friend, not-friend, study buddy was gone. The only person you kind of got along with at all outside of just one class. Another person missing. Rafael's mom. Maybe you needed to get out of Brooklyn for college. You certainly wouldn't miss the subway all too much, you thought, crammed in-between people.

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

As soon as you got out of the station and into the street, you were met with a familiar face among the people passing by. Instead of the Visions uniform, he was in a jacket too big for him, crinkled sweatpants and purple Jordans.

Miles. Calc-wiz. Mr. Disappearing Act. Withdrawn from the school, now in front of you and definitely already getting on your nerves.

He was looking at you, a hint of surprise in his otherwise smoothed-over features.

"Miles?"

"Yeah. Can we... talk?" His cheek dimpled with the awkward half-smile you'd only seen a couple times, but you were so strangely familiar with. You didn't know whether to freak out at him in front of a crowd of people or head home and hope that he didn't follow you.

"...Sure," is what comes out of your mouth.

Just your luck.

"~Ain't no love—" Skip.

"~Ha, sicker than your average—"

"Poppa twist cabbage off instinct..." Skip.

Miles was getting sicker than average of his uncle's playlist. Maybe working in silence was better.

He took out his earbuds, setting them on his mess of a desk and picking up the screwdriver again. Uncle Aaron was busy, "out of town", as his voicemail said. Probably doing something Miles wasn't supposed to be involved in. He'd be back in a day or two, as always. Never in one place too long.

Even for someone so experienced, he knew this was his uncle's first real "vigilante" gig. Uncle Aaron wasn't getting paid, nor was he working under someone trying to solve a cold case Jeff had been involved in with his colleagues. His dad was no detective, but always seemed to want to help out, and the police were getting desperate with all the recent missing person's cases. There was no real pattern, and sometimes people would be returned just fine. That's what the police were hoping for.

Dr. Stromm had disappeared for about 2 weeks, and returned to his normal work at Oscorp. That could be excused for a vacation off of work, for all anyone knew. Wellston, however, was still missing. Probably dead. Just a couple had turned up dead. It was so unpredictable that they all seemed unrelated, but the kinds of people going missing were all of use — scientists, lawyers, bank tellers. Wellston had been getting his PhD while teaching before he went missing. All people of use to the Chameleon.

Whoever his uncle was working for at the same time as all of this likely had no idea. He was probably working for that person right now, even when they had this case to deal with.

Miles had only been up to this after his dad had passed, and he knew he wasn't as polished as Aaron — not after what happened at Oscorp. Those gauntlets couldn't focus their energy, even if they were more powerful and he could charge shockwaves through the air almost instantaneously, and he had bragged about it a little too much when they'd tested it in the garage.

Now, he had faint lines on his skin from the excess heat, and had been taking them apart and rebuilding them for weeks in his room. His visor needed work too. It was way better in depth, but the resolution sucked. Even then, he was sure he could make something better than what his uncle had. Rigorous training wasn't enough to do this sort of work. He had to do his own thing, even if he was taking up the same schtick. Eventually his uncle's beard would gray and he'd have to be the real Prowler.

He was a good guy, after all. Like his uncle, like his dad.

By deduction, the Prowler was a good guy too. But he wasn't the Prowler today. He was Miles. The Miles that had been shouted at for trying to quit school again. The Miles that was fifteen and spent his days off building crappy gear.

Maybe on a day like this he could spend time with other people like he did in middle school. Go to a fast food place, or go to Micah's house to play video games, or hang around in some parking lot and run when he and his friends accidentally set off a car alarm. The sun was setting outside his window now. It felt like those evenings where he was reluctant to be taken home by his dad, after he was at Micah's playing GTA on Micah's older brother's console, laughing and screaming, Micah's sister shouting at them to shut up from the hallway.

Miles puts the visor down, walking up to his window and pushing it open. The air didn't get any warmer around this time of year, a cold wind brushing past his face as he stuck his head out to look at the city below.

Above him was the half-finished mural. A colourful backdrop of red and blue, and purple. His dad's face without the glasses, hat without the logo, the text outline without the actual text.

"Captain Jeff Morales. Husband, Hero, Father," read the ghost of the text.

His dad wasn't missing. There was no hope of him turning up one day, and that he could leave the mural unfinished and paint it over with something else. There was no hope that he'd wake up one night and instead of finding himself grasping at air it would be his mom shaking him awake to tell him his dad had come home.

His dad was dead. His dad was facing him right now and smiling like he did every morning before he left the house. His dad was painted on a brick wall, missing his glasses.

Miles knew he wasn't smiling for him. He was smiling for the city. He was the face of PDNY, captain for half a day alive and for the rest of eternity until Brooklyn forgot him, deceased. The mural had made him feel better when he hadn't been able to leave his own bedroom and decided to get up and start it with his uncle, but now he felt all sorts of emotions swirling through him. Regret, anger, grief, all of it at the same time — only to stop right at his tear ducts, tightening his throat.

He hadn't cried back then; his mom shared the pain of the both of them, even now. Even when they went to his tombstone, she was the only one that had cried as he'd kept a reassuring hand on her back.

Selfish, were the tears that blurred his vision, not heavy enough to roll down his face.

He sat, staring, eyes stinging yet soothed by the moisture. The sun cast a halo around the building, the mural in shadow and the city behind flooded in red-orange light.

"Husband, Hero, Father."

Was he a hero before he was his father? He had painted that himself. He knew his dad was a good guy. Was he a good guy before he was a good dad?

His thoughts were interrupted with the buzz of his phone in his pocket. There was a message on the notification bar, overtaking the text he'd been yet to reply to from his mom.

Are you the miles talking to me right now 1m ago

It was you.

Cause you're acting weird

And you just read my message without taking out your phone

What the...?

no wtf are u talking abt Read 4:51PM

where ru Read 4:51PM

His fingers hovered above the keys, glancing briefly at the gauntlet at his desk.

With a guy that looks exactly like u

You're the real miles right

He wracked his brain for something, anything as he ran back towards his desk.

6 liters per hour Read 4:53PM

What???

OH

Okay calc genius help me out please?????

He let out a breath between his teeth, shoving his gauntlets in his backpack and throwing on his gear haphazardly.

The Chameleon. Becoming him.

I'm at Marge's on moore st

ok just stay there go into the bathroom Read 4:55PM

don't leave til i text u Read 4:55PM

What are u gonna do??? the restaurant is empty

He's gonna look for me

He was acting so weird if that's not u then it's probably chameleon right

So you did believe him about the Chameleon. Or maybe you were the Chameleon and just being incredibly smart. He couldn't be 100% sure. Not like he ever was. Swooping out of his window, he threw his hoodie down to hang off the fire escape stairs before starting to run up the side of his building, shoes vacuuming him to stand horizontally.

probably Read 4:55PM

ur gonna take him outside in a couple min Read 4:55PM

Why???

just trust me Read 4:55PM

ill be there in 3m Read 4:56PM

The sky was now a shade of blue-purple, the reds and oranges dissolving behind the skyline. It was getting dark, and fast.

Okay

Manoeuvering through the maze of buildings with his shoes keeping him a thousand feet from being heard or seen, Miles headed for Moore Street with the little map in his peripheral vision. When he got there, all that welcomed him was a lone street lamp that had yet to turn on, a couple of closed local grocer's and a dimly-lit diner named "Marge", a discoloured space next to it the shape of an "s". Close enough.

Sifting through the modes on his visor, he settled when he saw the outline of two people. One strangely shaped like him and one strangely shaped like you.

He climbed down a little, dimming the lights on his gear completely as he receded into a small alley. The guy definitely looked like him physically. Tall, handsome, standing outside the bathroom, shifting on his toes...? Creasing my Jordans? Seriously?

Oh, yeah he had you to deal with. And himself, apparently.

leave now Read 4:58PM

Miles had about zero idea how to, but he needed to figure it out in about 30 seconds from now.

K

You made your way out of the bathroom, and he moved to the side of the diner you were closest to from outside to get a better view.

"...Gotta go home..."

"...Lemme walk you..."

As you left the store into the empty street, he could make out the slight twinge of nervousness on your face as you looked around ― probably looking for him and finding nobody.

"Hold on, I gotta text my parents..." You took out your phone, turning yourself a little to obscure the screen.

"Yeah, that's cool." Sounded almost exactly like him. Creepy.

go into that alley on your right and run home Read 5:00PM

Ur kidding

you gotta trust me Read 5:00PM

At that moment, you took one last look at your phone before turning into the alleyway. You were just a couple quick steps into the alley when his doppelganger grabbed yourshoulder.

"What the hell are you doing, Miles?!" you shouted suddenly, trying to pull yourself free, only to be thrown against the wall of the alleyway.

"I'm doing you a favour. You're not going to school anymore," he responded, his tone suddenly flat and nothing like it was a moment ago.

"What are you talking about? I'm just trying to go home."

His doppelganger was now featureless, his face melting away into the blankness Miles still couldn't describe. The panic on your face is visible from yards away. Miles just has to catch him off-guard. Without hurting you. He could do that.

"So you are the Chameleon," you muttered, still trying to pry his hands away as his grip wrinkled your clothes further.

"Ah, so you did figure it out. Excellent." That definitely didn't sound like him anymore. "You were always the most interesting in that class of yours."

"You... You were the one who was at those after-school classes, huh? And at Oscorp. And that... fair." That you were right about. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is that I need a little something from your school, and you seem like the easiest solution."

"Couldn't you do that while you were a teacher? You got that other guy to be arrested in your place. Aren't you done?"

"It looks like you have me all figured out. Except for one small thing."

"What?"

Something glistened by your neck. Sharp. Metal. He had a knife pressed to your throat, the blade just managing to dent your skin.

"You're going to die."

Missing. Sometimes they turned up. Other times they were probably dead. If he didn't figure this out, you were dead already.

"I'm... I kind of figured that too, you know."

"Oh, really? Aren't you something?" There was something like a grin on his face, but it was too misshapen to really tell. "So unaffected. So controlled."

"How do you even... turn into these people? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Take a guess. An educated guess is always better than nothing." His voice pitched up into Wellston's awkward sing-song, repeating what he used to say in class. Near-perfectly.

"Why are you so sure you won't get caught?"

"That's not an answer, and I can't exactly reveal such things, you know."

"Not even when you're about to kill me?"

"Oh, unfortunately not."

"Go f*ck yourself." That made the man laugh. If he wasn't in this situation right now, Miles might have managed a smile at that.

"Yeah, go f*ck yourself," he muttered, voice being caught half-way into his modulator in a grainy, deep sound.

In an instant, Miles soared above the two of you, foot smashing itself right in the centre of the Chameleon's face, his knife clattering to the floor. As he stumbled back, you got up, taking the opportunity to run, footsteps hard against the pavement.

Suddenly, the Chameleon was stuck between the wall and Miles' knee, steadying himself with his hands against the brick. Miles could make out some kind of morphed look of glee on his face as his clawed hand clamped him to the wall by both sides of his neck. The lips and teeth were starting to form through the flesh, and Miles let the energy build up in the converter as the smile fell into place, cell by cell.

"You don't want to kill me," he stated, simply.

"Pretty sure I do." Miles' claws just scraped at the skin starting to form at his neck. The quiet whirr of his gauntlet starts to become audible.

"You can't kill me. I am everywhere."

If everywhere is right in front of me, I mean...

"I know what you're doing, Dmitri. It ends here."

"I know what you're doing, Prowler."

He finally sees it, what's forming on the man's face. It's him.

"One of my best students, I never would have guessed," he started, grinning wildly, with some sort of overwhemled excitement.

Miles felt his mouth go dry, his face under the mask paralysed as the one staring at him continued to smile.

"The DNA that I retrieved from you is that of... Miles Gonzalo Morales."

It was as if the shockwave forming in his gauntlet slowed with time itself as he came to stare. He was looking at himself. Smiling. Grinning. Crazed. Miles Gonzalo Morales.

"Kill me. I have my assets, and subordinates. They will end you. Your mother, Rio. The hospital she works at. Your uncle, Aaron."

The quiet whirr in his gauntlet faded into silence. He felt his hand retreat, leaving the Chameleon, still posing as Miles, grinning, unblinking, and flat against the wall.

"Oh, you've made a very good choi―"

SLAM!

Metal met with bone, an audible crack following as Miles' clawed fist met the wall, the Chameleon's face smashed between the two.

"You mother... f*cker..." he breathed out, voice choked through the sudden rush of blood, smearing against the wall as he lifted his face from it.

Miles pointed his gauntlet at him again, the whirring renewing itself to a high-pitched scream, light purple expanding between them and tearing through the alleyway like fire.

"Muerto el pollo." (Job done.)

The man's reforming grin was overtaken by the brightness of the blast, energy snapping into one focused point before hurtling through the air, right at the Chameleon.

Miles felt his ears start to ring. His body was lightweight. Airborne.

His back hit something hard, and suddenly the lightness was replaced with an erratic clawing spreading up his arm. The light flickered into sparks that led fire under his sleeve, eating away at his skin. Burning. The blindness faded away, eyes managing to focus. All he could see past the smoke was a figure approaching him, and a hysteric laugh that grew louder and instantaneously changed pitch.

"So confident," is what he could make out through the ringing in his ears that had bled through his head into a sharp, disorienting pain. "I almost thought you had me."

Ripping the burning gauntlet off of himself, he noticed something jammed in the converter as he shook the heat from his arm. Some sort of sabotaging device. He'd had just a few seconds before the burning would've made it past his skin. The Chameleon had planned this.

Looking to his other gauntlet, he noticed the same device, ripping it out before crushing it under his foot. Never twice.

Swallowing back the cough building up in the back of his throat, Miles made a move for the Chameleon, before catching his figure turn left ― running.

Coño. (F*ck.)

Launching himself up, Miles locked onto the man, hurtling through a series of alleyways, fluidly dodging every obstacle in his way as if to waste no time. He could not let him get into a crowd and disappear. This had to end here, even if he had no god damn plan and his uncle was sure to scold him when he got back. He wasn't going to let you or anyone else get killed by this crazy f*ck.

Miles threw himself down into the next alleyway, hearing heavy, fast footsteps, someone approaching in his vision.

Just a little closer.

SLAM!

He threw the Chameleon down onto the ground, noticing he'd already changed appearance.

That face. No, this wasn't the Chameleon.

It was... you. And you were looking right at him. Terrified.

"Please, please let me go," you mumbled, gasping for air in-between words... "I... You're the... Prowler, I― Please― The... That guy's after me and..."

Your head fell against the concrete, an exhausted look in your eyes as you caught your breath.

"Please. I didn't... I didn't do anything. I can keep quiet about you, I haven't told the police anything. About Oscorp. Nothing."

"I know it's you, Chameleon." You would've ran far away by now, he was sure.

"I―I swear I'm not. I'm not him, I don't know how to prove it to you, but... I called my friend for help and... he never came. Please. Please let me go. I don't know where the Chameleon is right now."

Another set of footsteps came towards the both of you.

"I'm right here, Prowler," emerged another voice from the alley.

It was... you?

"Come on. Weren't you looking for me?" the other you continued, half-hidden in shadow. "Come get me."

So the you on the floor... was actually you. And this...

"Please, that's... that's him, you've gotta let me go," the you that was on the ground muttered, exasperated. There was a waver in your voice. In the way your eyes widened looking at him. Almost like confusion.

The Chameleon was right there. Admitting that he was in fact the Chameleon. While he was trying to run away.

"Please," he heard below him, a quiet, desperate whisper in the silence.

You both looked identical. Even though he'd injured the Chameleon, the both of you were unscratched. You both sounded the same too, from what he could decipher. No real way to tell you apart. And his only answer right now felt like a trick.

He kept eyes on the you standing before him, barely making out a face. Something was there, in the way that you looked, the way you stood. Something strange, something he couldn't figure out fast enough to make any decision.

And then, he felt a little pinch. One that suddenly exploded and tore through his flesh, wrangling with every one of his nerves as his body seized. You had lost your scared, desperate expression, your face now distorting along with his vision into that of a smile.

"I understand," a voice started, ringing through his head as if it was everywhere. "You want to help me."

The pain was clawing its way through his body from a point in his leg. He turned his head, noticing the discarded needle beside him. He'd managed to ease his hand just close enough to administer it. You ― no, the Chameleon, lifted himself from the ground, before Miles felt his head spin hard with a kick.

"I admire you, your wit," he called out, letting out a laugh as he started to walk towards you. "Turning against your own savior. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful."

No, no... There was... there was no way you were working with him. There was no way you...

"You have proven yourself. You'll be better than... than that Garrett fool. I've changed my mind."

Miles rummaged in his utility belt for something, anything. He had no idea what he'd been given, but it was already running through his blood, reaching his brain and poisoning every part of it.

"Your friend over there is going to be unconscious in about half a minute. Why don't you take care of him? I'll be a fool to kill you once you do."

Get up, Miles.

His head throbbed with the sound of your footsteps, each one getting louder and louder. His limbs were weakening. He could barely lift his head.

Get up!

"Dad... Dad? No no no... Get up, get up!"

The gauntlet was slowly slid off of him, now in your hands as his arm fell uselessly onto the ground in front of him.

The gauntlet clipped onto your arm, fingers moving as yours did. He felt the metal claws just scrape his helmet, a faint clink echoing through his skull.

Miles didn't want to look at your face, but he couldn't find it in him to look anywhere else. There was that something from before in your expression that he couldn't quite place, and he still didn't have an answer. It bothered him, for some damn reason. Not the fact that he had his own weapon pointed to his brain as he was losing consciousness. Not the fact that he couldn't move. Not the fact that his last thoughts were about the look on your face and not his mom, or his dad.

Whirrr...

That brightness that the Chameleon had been staring at before was now staring right at him. Overwhelming, blinding, all-encompassing. He felt the faint heat on his skin, as his eyelids grew heavy. Something like warmth in contrast to the cold metal, if just for a second. Something like knowing in your eyes. Something hopeful, saving, loving. Even if just for a second. Even if his brain had made it up to let him succumb.

He wished he could smile, and not be terrified. He wished he could be like his dad, who had smiled.

"Take care of your mom for me, Miles. I ain't gonna be around forever."

And he reached for his helmet. To show you his face, to hope you'd stop once you saw him. He reached, before his arm fell limp beside him once more.

Sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Hey, hello?"

"Hey!"

"Prowler? ...Are you dead?"

God, what did you have to do if he didn't respond...? Breathing, pulse...

"What the..." you heard, before he exploded into a painful-sounding coughing fit, tinged by some kind of voice changer. The Prowler lifted his head, and you could make out az kind of shadow where his eyes were behind the dull, unlit screen. "Huh...?"

"Hey, uh. The... Chameleon..."

Gesturing to the pile on the floor, the Prowler seemed to tense a little at the sight. It was the Chameleon, or... what was left of him. His face charred and caved in by the likes of a certain purple energetic blast. Right, you, had to explain that, the de-powered weapon in your hands.

"Sorry for... I didn't know what I was doing, that was―"

"You killed him?" came out a quiet, modulated voice.

That was...

You killed him. With the Prowler's weapon.

You were defending yourself. You were defending him. That man was a...

Thunk!

The metallic arm hit the ground as it rolled out of your arms, looking into the hollow shadows of the Prowler's eyes.

You didn't know anything about any of these people, and you were deep into their world. It was one that you had never thought you'd see, and now you had nothing to dig yourself out of it. You decided to trick him and when Miles was too late to figure it out you had...

You had killed someone. Turned the blast on him within a split second, watching it sear through his skull in a merciless flurry, stab after stab of burning hot energy wracking more and more screams. Right until the weapon had run out of energy. Until your finger grew numb from the trigger inside the device and the alleyway had gone silent. The man that had haunted your mind for months was unmoving before you, ripped of all features, all life.

Murder. Manslaughter. This man had connections. They'd come after you. After everyone you knew and loved. After Miles.

You should've stayed home.

The ache of adrenaline surged through your heart, your muscles, begging. Begging you to move. To run. To get up.

Get up. Run. Run away. Scream for help. Do something.

You felt the scratch of brick, arms enveloping the rest of you as you backed into the wall.

Hide.

All the breath in your lungs seemed to leave at once as you desperately tried to breathe it back in, hearing the air rush in and out of your mouth over and over. It was loud. So loud. The blast had been so loud. He had screamed so loud―

"Hey."

The hand on your shoulder was warm, free of any metal.

"It's... alright," you heard him say.

How could he say that?

"How can you say that?" Your voice was muffled. Wavering. Pathetic.

Would they believe you? With that stupid, pathetic, voice, whoever it was that found you ― would they believe you?

"How can you say that...?" you repeated, pressing your face further into your knees. The touch on your tensed shoulder felt offensive. Mocking.

"You're gonna be okay."

"How am I gonna be okay?"

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"How do you know that?"

You were looking at him now, breath hitched, eyes wide. You tried to sound frustrated, angry, but all that came out of your throat was a sound that told the Prowler "I am scared" in every language.

The Prowler hadn't killed you. He was comforting you. In any other circumstance, you could've laughed at the thought. To your knowledge, this Prowler hadn't killed anyone, or put everyone he loved in severe danger. Maybe you were worse than him.

"Why won't you answer any of my questions...?" you mumbled hopelessly, burying your face in your hands. You could smell concrete, dust, and ash ― invisible, yet incriminating.

Hiss... Click!

You felt hands wrap around your wrists, carefully pulling yours away from your own face. Just as you looked up, you could see the mask dismantling itself, disappearing behind his head.

What was left was a face. The Prowler's face.

No, this is...

Brown, maybe green-ish eyes. They were a smooth coppery colour under the dim light, bright among the shadows underneath his eyes. A black-red was drying on his skin, under his nose and creeping past his cracked lips. Two braids, coming unfurled at the ends, coming all the way back up to the top of his head. A soft face with harshness painted all over it. An exhausted, pained and worried expression.

"Hey, pana."

The face you had so prayed to see blurred into a watery mess as you threw your arms around him, squeezing your eyes shut against his jacket. His arms followed, settling over yours, one palm circling your back and the other settled between your shoulders.

You didn't think you'd held anyone tighter. You didn't know someone could hold to the point that their arms were shaking around you.

"Miles..."

You felt his head rest beside yours, the contours of his face melding against your shoulder. Warmth was running down your face ― blooming in your chest.

"I've got you."

"Mij— Oh... Oh my!"

You'd scrubbed your eyes hard as you could, and Miles had fixed himself up into a giant hoodie and jeans, but you were almost certain that the woman in front of you was utterly convinced that the both of you had been run over by a subway train. Miles' mom, standing with a vacuum cleaner that contributed nothing to the silence. Her jaw was inching closer to the floor the longer the silence stretched out.

"Uh... hola, mami. This is my friend," Miles offered, not sounding any less like he'd been met face first with the headlights of New York public transportation.

"Hi, Mrs... Morales."

The woman propped the vacuum cleaner against the wall, letting out a quiet sigh. She had beautiful curly hair, and was now wearing the sharp-softness of her son's face in a polite, and concerned smile. You didn't want to turn to check if Miles still had blood on his face.

"Is this a bad time...?" you started. "I can—"

"Oh, no, no, I just... I haven't even made dinner yet, I didn't expect—" The woman lets out another breath, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so rude. What are you two... What have you been up to?"

"We just... you know," Miles gestured with his hands, charading less than nothing in the air.

"You know...?" she replied, eyes squinting.

"I uh, already ate. Don't worry about it, Mrs. Morales," you continued, giving her what you hoped looked like a smile on your face. "Miles just wanted to show me something. It'll be quick."

"Uh, yeah. That."

"You're not staying for dinner?" she called out, as Miles dragged you into his room. "I was gonna make pastelón—"

"I'll come help you in a sec, mami."

Miles closed the door to his room, and the two of you shared a look as you heard the long, muffled sigh from outside. With the sound of the vacuum cleaner whirring in the hallway and disappearing into another room, the two of you sat on the edge of the twin-size bed, the frame creaking uncomfortably.

The room wasn't particularly big, crowded with posters and various newspaper clippings — many about the Prowler. There were crates tucked away beside his closet, faces of toy figurines and comic books peeking out of them. A lone screwdriver sat on his desk, a stack of notebooks beside it. The backpack you'd seen him take to school was hanging on the back of his chair, a study guide for "Invisible Man" peeking out of it. All that was on his bedside table other than papers was a frame. A young boy, missing a tooth, on the shoulders of an older man, the two of them beaming through the picture.

"You hurt or anything?" he asked quietly, making you remember that he was next to you. "Like, injured?"

"No, I'm... fine." You took half of a breath before your lungs started to ache, swallowing back the dryness of your throat. Mostly fine. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. My mom's a nurse, so... I kinda..."

"Oh... Yeah, yeah." Huh.

Mrs. Morales certainly didn't seem to know about her son's... part-time job.

You noticed a set of blueprints on the wall, resembling the clawed arms he had stashed away without you or his mom seeing.

"You made those...? The claw-glove things?"

"They're gauntlets."

It was somewhat like the tone of voice he used when he was explaining a calculus question — not condescending, but somewhat tired and fed-up.

"Right..." Gauntlets. Sure.

The vacuuming stopped, and a few moments later the clinking of cookware could be heard.

"You staying for dinner?"

"Huh...? Um, I don't wanna bother your mom."

"Please...? I'm gonna get it if you go home without eating." Something about that made you laugh, even if it was a half-hearted sound that fizzled out before it could really sound like one.

"She seems nice," you mused.

"She is. She tries."

Something of a smile tugged at his lips as a quick snort of air left him, his eyes now on yours.

"I got a lot of explaining to do, huh?" His smile faded a little as the words left his mouth.

"You do. Maybe... Maybe not now, though."

"Yeah. Not now."

In your peripheral, you could make out his arm inching closer to yours. The tips of his fingers just brushed your knuckles, leaving just a spark of feeling against your skin. His throat bobbed a little as he swallowed, and—

"Miles, ¡ven a cortame estas cebollas! (Come and cut these onions for me!)"

"Oh! Um— Okay!"

The bed squeaked again as he stood up, and you could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek. You closed your hand as the lingering feeling of his touch disappeared.

"...You sure I can stay for dinner?"

"You sure you just asked me that?"

"Alright, alright."

You gave him a little more of a smile, and you could see him fighting to not return it as he looked back at you.

"i'm gonna... go and—"

"Yeah, you do that, Miles."

He handed you his phone, or, a phone.

"You can... play some music, if you want. It's connected to that speaker. Just not too loud, yeah?"

You noticed there was no SIM card in it. He pointed to the little speaker sitting by the window sill, peeking out behind a hung up jacket and a school blazer.

"...Thanks."

The door to his room shut, and the murmured voices of Miles and his mom faded as you selected a song. You recognised some of them, ones you'd heard people sing along to on the street or in the cafeteria of your school. This one stood out, though.

It started slow, and the man's voice was rich, full of life and emotion. It was strangely melancholic against the uplifting instrumentals.

"~Ain't no love, in the heart of the city..."

You stood up, walking to the window to get a better listen of it. Lifting up the blinds, your eyes caught something in the darkness. A giant painting of Jefferson Morales. Miles' dad. It was half-finished, but his smile was there.

You couldn't help but think how he looked so much like Miles.

"~Ain't no love, cause you ain't around..."

An almost inaudible rustle caught your attention as you tuned to look at the jacket you had touched. Something had fallen out of its pocket while you were trying to move the speaker. It was a piece of paper, something written on it.

Reaching down, you moved to put it back in the pocket, before noticing what was peeking out of it.

Unfolding just the edge of it, you recognised the title of a Spanish lesson you had a while ago, back when Rafael had been bothering you endlessly. Opening it up entirely, you found what he'd been making fun of Miles for.

There were a series of drawings around scrawled Spanish vocabulary and messy grammar rules. One was of your teacher, Mrs. Hernández, turned away, writing on the board. The other was of the picture of the landmark in the article you had been given, "Arco de"-something. The colour of the building was done in yellow highlighter, but looked rather technical and accurate nonetheless.

The one on the back made you almost drop the paper.

It was you, with such a likeness. Some lines had been erased and re-drawn around your mouth, as if he'd been trying to decide on an expression. Within the creases of the paper you were holding right now, though, you found yourself smiling — just slightly, like if you'd been laughing at something with the rest of your class. Your head was tilted slightly downwards. The drawing version of you was just a little cuter than you were sure you looked like, Miles' stylisation making your eyes shine a little and your lips curve just the right way.

By the time your stomach had stopped fluttering, the song was coming to a close. You quickly re-crumpled the paper and carefully put it back into the jacket, walking over to sit on his bed again.

"~Ain't no love, in the heart of this town..."

"...You never come back this late, mijo..."

"...We just bumped into each other and started talking. You know, like how at the store..."

"...Your tías are different, Miles..."

He really does have a lot to explain, you thought to yourself, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from lifting up, just slightly.

Your questions would just have to wait until after dinner.

my lovely jubly taglist: @noetophat @sakura-onesan @bakugouswaif @phoenixinthefiles @daydreaming-en-pointe @sp1derw1re @kvvrc @spookyscaryskeletrans @proudgojofucker  @spam-1 @playboifenty @hobiebrownismygod @kissingkzuha @nyumeii @uwukiity @itzmeme @shittingonyourgrave @theyluvbix @kezibear @theseustimes

thank you for reading! epilogue hopefully coming soon 👍 reblogs + replies are appreciated 💗 find the rest of my writing in my atsv masterlist here!

[starguardianniom]

The Power of Love in Miraculous Ladybug

It's bad.

Legit bad.

Just in the opening song, you hear: "The power of love always so strong!"

More like always so strong at creating all the problems in the freaking show fr.

Gabriel is Hawk Moth just to get the miraculouses to save his wife, so he is motivated by love.

Marinette legit screwed herself up in 4 of the 5 seasons finales because of love.

And that's not getting into all the akumas she caused just because she was so caught up in her own feelings that she screwed over other people or just ended up hurting other people's feelings in her wake.

The world legit ended because of her love.

Also had to reset an entire timeline too because she couldn't stick to her plan the moment she learned Adrien was Chat Noir.

Let's not forget how the show portrays Marinette's love of Adrien, via stalking, knowing everything in his schedule for the next 3 years, planning his birthday gifts for decades in advance (and apparently having weird gifts too since she threw one of them in the trash once she saw Adrien's confused reaction to it), getting jealous of any girl getting close to him to the point that she once teamed up with Chloé to get Kagami away, and Kagami had done nothing to deserve being humiliated publicly like that, even worse is that the year before Marinette got humiliated b Chloé in front of a guy she liked by said guy she liked which started her whole obsession about Adrien later on which just makes her a double hypocrite in Animaestro.

Marinette treats Adrien more like a prize than a person, you're not gonna make me believe that everything she knows about him is stuff she learned from him by talking to him, please, given how she could barely speak to him you really think she would pull this off? Pretty sure she just researched him online, at one point she pratically begs Nino to tell her what Adrien finds funny.

And yet not once does she consider if Adrien would actually have a word in their relationship, she called him her Adrien as far as season 1.

Meanwhile, Gabriel loves his son but also emotionally abuse him, and also gets physical with him once he learns he's Chat Noir, he yeeted him to the Eiffel Tower, I never forgave him for that.

He also loves his wife, but he also ended up losing his one real chance at bringing her back just to get back at Ladybug, so you can say his love wasn't enough anymore.

The Power of Love was motivating him until it changed to obsession at revenge with Ladybug.

Now I wonder what's it's gonna take until Marinette realise her love for Adrien is her downfall. So far it screwed her over everytime more than anything else, it's not her strenght it's her biggest weakness that brings out the worst in her, and it got brought to it's height in the season 5 finale and the London special.

Lying to the whole world about Gabriel just to spare Adrien's feelings because Gabriel asked her too, especially after everything he did to him, to her and everyone else? Yeah, no.

It just traps Adrien more.

It's disgusting.

The Power of Love is the biggest evil in the freaking show to the point it's its own character.

Lila wish she could be just as bad.

Maybe she will be able to show us.

And with how season 5 ended, I'm wondering how The Power of Love is gonna do, probably do even more damage.

The Power of Love shown by the main protagonist and the main villain is the most terrifying thing ever in the show.

[cator99]

please finish your wedding story, i so badly want to hear the rest of it. i await eagerly.

>everyone lived happily ever after

>a few weeks pass

>I write the brides a lengthy and detailed letter of recommendation to their immigration lawyer

>they're overjoyed and think its a beautiful letter, and I'm glad to help because I hope they last forever and get everything they want in life, if I may drop the act and be sincere for a moment

>a few days pass. the bride I've known for over 15 years messages me

>however... she doesn't care. she's on her honeymoon. and I'm just some chick she was friends with as a kid. what does upset her is how she found out.

>at first I assume that the woman who reached out to her (who I knew back in jr high, and is a few years older than me) was just trying to upset her

>bride tells me about how this woman was her best friend and then suddenly blocked her out of nowhere, which was (and is) still very painful for her

>the woman, who we will refer to as "A" whips up a story about being concerned for the bride's safety and privacy or something

>bride is confused. there's no identifying information. the post is a nothingburger to her. what's important here is that she's upset that this woman messaged her after 4 years, not to make things right..... but to talk about "zander"

>right, this is about me, because this is "A" we're talking about here...... hell hath no fury like a closet case scorned

how did she find my blog?

I assume it went like this:

>"A" goes to peek at her ex-bestie's wedding photos

>"Zander" Spotted

>runs to LC

>"hey does anyone remember Zander who I used to post about on here all the time 7 years ago? I may have found an update!"

>"that's terf cator99 who was posted about on the Women Youre Ashamed To Want To Fuck thread you fucking idiot that looks nothing like her"

>no here's proof!

>autism ensues

>several replies get deleted, other responses indicate they're "A" sperging and linking my blog

>people argue if I deserve to be there anymore

>"she's a tif"

>"no"

> yes"

>"no"

>"I used to know her" ["A" posting]

>"tell us more!"

>"she used to have this one pair of glasses and then she had this other pair of glasses that looked really good on her..."

meanwhile:

>assume she's probably back on her LC shit

>find and link bride to the LC thread and explain to her that "A" has just been trolling for fun and to pay it no mind, you're better off without her in your life

>"hey bride-chan, not to be weird but I'm just trying to understand this shit, do you think A ever had a thing for me... I always kind of assumed she was bi or gay when we were younger and thought it was cool that she was androgynous and went to school dressed as Kaito from vocaloid all the time so I wanted to be her friend but she was pretty rude to people and I backed off"

>"well i dont know but she's married to a man now..."

>yet here she is trying to get under the skin of two women who are with other women

to be fair I earned the lolcow title fair and square years ago all on my own, and really do feel I owe "A" a favor for introducing me to the site. it was very formative for me to find out places like that existed right at the moment I was starting to have conflicting thoughts about the trans shit so I could gain some self-awareness (and general awareness overall) (shout out to "A"s friend who cowtipped to me.....)

meanwhile, on LC:

>"well done ladies, we've figured it all out. Butch Lesbian cator99 is currently partying with gay men, and It is common knowledge that "gay men" are all secretly bisexuals who are looking to hook up with women who say things like "I'm a lesbian" and "I am not attracted to males". That is their mating call, in fact. These words activate the Hetero gland in the Amygdala like a sleeper agent who has been biologically programmed– as we all are– to stop the kiki-ing and split off into heterosexual pairings at the end of a poppers-fuelled night assless-twerking to Britney."

>"good work. But I'll one-up you: look at this screenshot."

[photo from an instagram account, featuring a photo of 17 year old Zander's legs in the bath. "I Am Totally Into Epic Awesome Penis Now!!!!!!" (She had never seen a penis)]

>"yes, this is definitely a normal thing for a straight woman to say. I always knew she was a faker."

>"yes. as im sure you're all aware, there are many social and career benefits from pretending to be a lesbian."

>"doesn't that idiot know that she can't just lie and change her orientation? I can't believe she's been straight this whole time."

>"what does she have to gain from lying?"

>"She's so adamant about being a lesbian, which is a dead giveaway for a cover-up operation. The more they resist, the more evident it is that they are lying in order to gain access to that highly lauded Online Lesbian Following, which is something every straight woman wants deep down."

meanwhile:

>call gf

>"bad news. I just found out I'm actually straight."

[swampshi]

Evanuris to old gods Linked

yeah yeah, we all saw that codex but I feel it's not... correct. Yeah, I'm sorry bellara I'm actually way smarter and totally not fixated on evanuris for more than a year reading far to deep into the codexes.

1. Dumat -> Dirthamen. Secrets, silence – you get it. Also:

1. Statue of Dumat in Dirth temple.

2. Interesting situation, where a follower of Dirth weirdly follows the fate very VERY similar to corepheys, a follower of Dumat.

2. Zazikel –> Andruil.

1. Andruil is the only one actively referred to as 'mad' in dalish legends, and it was confirmed in datv that yes she was blighted. the high priest of zazikel is literally called "madman of chaos"

2. Looking back to the constellation associated with zazikel (kios) we can see someone, clearly representing andruil. It was said that she had wings, and a legendary spear – well, here they are!

3. Andoral -> June

1. I saw a great post on here, remarking than fenris's marking do look quite similar to June's vallaslin, and considering the note below, it wouldn't be stretch to think, that June was the one to create the whole vallaslin and soldiers like fenris thing. he was said to worked with lyrium

2. it also ties in with the fact, that I'm the codex there is a remark, that June's domain has shifted after time, likely because that disappeared from elven culture. slavery did disappear (in elves enslaving elves), so did the work with lyrium

4. Urthimiel-> sylaise. controversial topic I KNOW. hear me out

1. Sylaise is said to be the architect of elven cities (codex and solas dialog w elg), while high priest of urth is called architect of Beauty

2. the constellation associated with urth is called 'the maiden'. Sylaise is a goddess closely associated with femininity, motherhood

2.1 also, the maiden looks awfully close to sylaise mural and symbol with this point crown thing.

5. Toth-> Falon'din

AGAIN hear.me.out. alot of people link toth to sylaise, but actually, I feel like no old God feels Falon'din like sooo.

1. working around what we had we take a look at the constellation associated with toth. it is a man in flames, in agony. how tf does this relate to Falon'din? well I can imagine one particular part of lore where Falon'din LOST to Elgar'nan, who is heavily associated with fire and the sun. constellation seem to represent the evanuris themselves (I DONT KNOW WHAY HAPPENED W TENEBRIUM AND LUSACAN). it's actually strange, it feels like lusacan and toth were switched.

lusacan is the Dragon of the night and here is the literal song to Falon'din

The People swore their lives to Falon'Din

Who mastered the dark that lies.

Whose shadows hunger

Whose faithful sing

Whose wings of death surround him

Thick as night.

and toth being literal Dragon of Fire seems fitting for Elgar'nan, son of the sun. But probably, the fight ensued, and the winner (Elg) got the bigger cooler dragon.

[ohcorny]

How did you first initially get into the professional graphic novel scene? Was it difficult getting ppl to take a chance on your writing/stories and could you talk about it a bit?

wibbles my hand? i probably had it easier than most people. first of all i'd been doing a fairly popular webcomic for like. six-seven years when an agent cold-called me to offer representation, and asked if i had any graphic novel ideas. hunger's bite was but a tiny twinkle in my eye so i started developing it.

(and then covid happened and i got a storyboard job and also eventually fired that agent but still kept developing hunger's bite)

shortly after firing that agent, and after trying to query traditionally with no real luck (though i think i only queried 3-4), there was an event on twitter called #DVPit which was basically: you'd post the elevator pitch of your story + some art, and agents would look in the tag and like anything they were interested in representing. so once the event was over you'd reach out to them with the full pitch and meet to talk about it and if the vibe was right, you'd sign on with them. i think i had 5 agents show interest, and i contacted 3 who felt like they could be a good fit, and then signed with the one i liked best. (i do not think #DVPit exists anymore for obvious reasons)

after that it was her job to send the pitch out to editors, and i think it was maybe in the second or third wave of submissions (ie, a few months) where i had 2 editors who were interested. they made their offers, i went with the one that had a bit more money (and apparently got a Really good deal) and that was that

like Looking Back, i think i had it easier than people who struggle for years to get noticed. it didn't feel that way at the time, waiting months for rejections, but now that i'm through it, it's less daunting. the main issue i would run into was finding someone who understood the vision and didn't want to change it. there was a lot of 'this would probably be better as a middle grade!' but i didn't want to take the teeth out of it.

iunno! overall i think art and comics is one of those spaces where it's like. you know at a glance if you're interested in it, or if the artist is competent. i've done slush pile with comics, it's very 'you know it when you see it'. i imagine it's the same with acquiring editors.

i fortunately have a style with broad appeal :y so it might just be easier for me on that merit

[leclercskiesahead]

I have noticed your confusion on the way Carlos writes. I too hold my pen the same way he does. It actually provides great grip and control, dispite the awkward way it looks.

Basically your thumb puts pressure on the pen, pressing it into your index finger, while the tips of your middle and index finger keep the pen from slipping. Its recognized as one of the 4 common ways to hold a pen and called Lateral Quadrupod. The main reason it's discouraged is because it can cause your wrist to hurt quicker than a more standard grip, but for some people it's just more comfortable and makes their handwriting neater.

His parents and teachers probably tried to discourage it as a kid like mine did, but eventually they gave up because there is no point in arguing with a kid about how they write so long as they can actually write. There is little point (and is incredibly discouraging) in making a kid spend an extra hour a night on homework because the 'proper' grip on the pencil makes their handwriting worse and slower to do.

this is how i learnt that there are formal ways for the way people hold their writing tools. thanks for sharing! it really does not look like his thumb is gripping the pen at all haha. i'm trying to imagine him in school colouring in his books and the teachers trying to get him to correct his grip but he just goes on unbothered.

you are so right about how unproductive it is to force a kid to change the way they write if it hampers their work and penmanship.

[lovegoodlane]

Pursuing the Prefect - 4

4k words

18+ only

Warnings: none? No sexual content, only angst/arguing

Summary: Fred struggles to patch things up with his prefect after a disagreement (stubborn Fred)

A/N: The next part as requested. No smut this time, didn't quite fit the storyline. Let me know what you think!

Link to part 1, part 2, part 3

----

It was Saturday morning, and you tore through your drawers trying to decide what sweater to wear to Hogsmeade. It was early November, and the cold air was starting to become brutal. 

You settled on a burgundy one, pulling it on over your head and inspecting your reflection in the mirror. You hadn't picked out a pair of pants yet, so you were stood in just your sweater and knickers.

Your eyes wandered down to your thighs where you could still make out the outline of where Fred had left love bites. It made your stomach turn. You hadn't spoken since Thursday night when you disagreed about going on a date during the Hogsmeade trip.

You tried to force it out of your mind, grabbing a pair of jeans and pulling them up your legs. You checked your reflection again, deciding to pull your hair up into a pony tail. 

You heard a knock at your door, answering with "come in!"

Beatrice peeked her head into your room. "Almost ready?" she asked, clearly excited for the day ahead.

You exhaled, studying your reflection once more. "Almost ready," you replied. 

——

It was colder than you had expected. You bundled up with a puffer jacket and put on a pair of earmuffs, knowing that you were going to be frigid walking from shop to shop. 

Beatrice linked her arm with yours. "Where should we go first?" she asked. "I think we should get some chocolate frogs, they're my favorite."

Cho had decided to skip out on the Hosgmeade trip, so it was just you and Beatrice today. You were still struggling to handle Cho's snappiness, so you didn't mind having some one on one time with Beatrice. 

You wandered into a sweets shop, looking at all of the candies they had to offer. Sweets weren't really your thing, but Beatrice's weakness was chocolate. Every time you went to Hogsmeade, she always bought chocolate.

Beatrice had picked out a couple of chocolate frogs and some truffles, making her way towards the register to pay for her treats. You waited for her, peering out the window to see the other students who were exploring the shops. You caught a glimpse of red hair through the window, making your stomach flutter.

You really wanted to talk to Fred, but you had no idea how to approach him. A public relationship made you feel uneasy, but the more you thought about it, the less miserable it sounded. You wanted to be with Fred, and people were going to find out at some point. 

The silence between you two was palpable, and Beatrice picked up on your change in mood yesterday at breakfast. You explained the situation to her, and she sympathized with you, but she brought up some important points.

"But don't you like him?" she had asked you once you were in your dormitory for the evening. "You've been spending more time with him and he clearly makes you happy."

"I just don't want other people to be so nosy about us being together," you explained to her. "Fred is incredibly popular, meaning that everyone will suddenly be looking at me. I don't need that kind of pressure."

"You thrive under pressure," Beatrice argued. "Fred isn't asking you to declare your love from the rooftops. He just wants to be able to hold your hand in public and not have to feel like he's hiding something. He probably feels like you're ashamed of him."

Beatrice's last comment made something click, and it had been floating around in your head ever since she said it. Even now standing in the sweets shop, you felt guilty about the possibility that Fred thought you were ashamed of him. That couldn't be further from the truth.

Yes, you and Fred were admittedly pretty opposite, but that didn't matter to you. You were a prefect with perfect marks and he was a troublemaker that focused on anything but his academics. It seemed like you two couldn't be more different, but somehow the pairing just seemed to work. Opposites really do attract.

Beatrice approached you, her bag of sweets in hand. "Where to next?"

"I want to get a couple of new quills, I need to replace my old ones," you answered, heading for the door. 

A wave of cold smacked you as you exited the shop, causing you to cross your arms in an attempt to preserve your warmth. You and Beatrice walked together down the cobblestone path, heading toward the quill shop.

You entered the shop, a familiar scent and warmth overwhelming you. You visited this shop every time you came to Hogsmeade, as you loved their quills and were willing to spend your allowance on them.

You browsed their selection of quills, deciding on one hawk feather quill and one eagle feather quill. Beatrice hung back by the door, relatively uninterested in quill shopping. She was more interested in sweets and trinkets.

You paid for your quills, giving your quid to the shop owner. He packaged them up for you, giving you a small package to tuck into the tote bag that you had slung over your shoulder. 

"Why don't we grab some butter beers? I could use a break from the cold," Beatrice commented as you headed toward the exit.

You linked arms with her as you two set out for the Three Broomsticks. On your way there, you noticed Fred with his group of friends. He was goofing around with George, Angelina, Lee Jordan, and Alicia Spinnet. 

You locked eyes with Fred for a moment, a blush forming on your cheeks. He looked away first, pretending like you weren't even there. This caused your stomach to sink, as you could tell that he was still upset from your conversation on Thursday evening.

Fred was disappointed. He was hoping that you were less concerned about your reputation, but after shooting down his proposal of a Hogsmeade date, he wasn't so sure. You were willing to sneak around with him, but public acknowledgment of your involvement was somehow a step too far. This didn't sit well with Fred.

He knew that he was being immature by ignoring you, but he didn't know how else to deal with his feelings. It was a complicated situation, and he felt that you wouldn't understand his perspective. You two ran in two completely different circles, meaning that your lives at Hogwarts were nothing alike. This created a certain tension that Fred didn't know how to bridge. 

You and Beatrice walked past the group, entering the Three Broomsticks and finding a booth. You settled in, unzipping your puffer jacket and removing your earmuffs.

"Are you and Fred still not speaking?" Beatrice asked, unzipping her own jacket.

"No," you replied, clearly dismayed. "I think we're both too stubborn to admit our feelings. I know that I let him down, but he needs to acknowledge that my fears about dating are relevant."

"Why do you think he's so upset about you not wanting to be on a date together in public?" she asked, taking off her jacket and setting it in the booth next to her.

"What you said about it seeming like I'm ashamed of him made a lot of sense," you answered. "Fred seems confident on the outside, but that's not always the truth. Him and I have opposite priorities and different reputations. I think he might feel like I'm nervous about tarnishing my reputation by being with him, but that's not true."

Beatrice reached across the table for your hand. "Then what is true, love? I think you need to work that out with him."

"I like him a lot," you admitted, your cheeks flushing. "He brings out a different side of me. I get so focused on my marks sometimes that I forget to let myself have fun. He loves surprising me and being spontaneous, I think he's exactly what I've been missing in my life."

"Wow, that's....a lot," Beatrice replied, letting out a breathy laugh. "You need to tell him that. He probably has no idea that you even feel that way."

You shrugged. "I know. But things feel impossible right now. He clearly doesn't want to talk to me."

"Since when have you been afraid to approach someone?" Beatrice questioned. "You always stand your ground, sometimes I wonder how you didn't get sorted into Gryffindor."

Beatrice gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. You were grateful for moments like these. Beatrice never judged you for anything.

"I'll try to talk to him today, then," you decided. "How about I get us some butter beers?"

——

You and Beatrice had finished your butter beers and decided to simply stroll around Hogsmeade until a shop caught your eye. You walked past a number of couples, trying not to sneer at the way they seemed infatuated with each other.

As you approached a trinket shop, you noticed Fred and his group lingering nearby. The shop was known to sell a number of joke toys and all around bizarre things, so of course the Weasley twins were interested. You watched as Fred demonstrated to his friends the magic of the exploding pen he had just purchased.

You took a breath and looked over to Beatrice. "I'm going to see if he'll talk to me."

She gave you a reassuring pat on the back as you stepped toward the group of Gryffindors. Fred noticed you approaching, and he averted his gaze.

"Oi, hey there prefect!" George greeted, causing Fred to punch him in the shoulder.

The other students in the group snickered, enjoying Fred's embarrassment. Your nails dug into the palm of your hand as you clenched your fists, trying to maintain the courage to speak to Fred.

"Fred, do you have time to chat?" you asked.

"Uhm, not really," he brushed you off. 

It felt like a stab to the heart. He was suddenly so cold toward you. That wasn't the Fred you knew.

"You need to make time," you replied, willing yourself to sound assertive.

The Gryffindors stood there in shock, not believing that you would stand up to Fred like that. Fred huffed at you.

"Fine. I'll be at the Hufflepuff party tonight," he said, finally meeting your eye for a moment.

You tried to keep his gaze, but he looked away. You felt so defeated. 

"Alright, I'll see you then," you answered, offering the group a tense smile and nod before turning back toward Beatrice.

You felt like you couldn't reach her fast enough, your breathing becoming more rapid with each step you took. You were panicking. Everything you thought was true about Fred was unraveling before your very eyes. 

"What happened?" Beatrice asked, noticing the frantic look in your eyes and pulling you to sit on a nearby bench. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, attempting to comfort you.

"Fred just...he's acting so...I don't understand," was all you managed to get out before frustrated tears began rolling down your cheeks.

"Love, take your time," Beatrice soothed, leaning her head against you.

The Fred you knew was assertive. He wasn't afraid of conflict and he always spoke his mind. Fred was kind and thoughtful, and he had done everything he could to make you feel special. But all of that had changed over the matter of a couple of days. 

"He barely even looked at me," you sputtered out, wiping the tears as fast as they fell. You hated crying. It made you feel weak. Your stubborn streak hated giving in to your feelings.

"I'm trying to make things better, and he's acting like he doesn't have time to work things out," you explained, trying to slow your breathing. 

"I'm sorry. He's being a git, there's no excuse for that behavior," Beatrice said.

"I thought he cared about me. A few days ago he wanted all of Hogwarts to know we were together, and now he doesn't even want to speak to me," you said, exhaling to try to gather yourself.

It was confusing. Fred had never sent you mixed signals like this before. He was always very clear about his intention to woo you and make you his girlfriend, but that didn't feel so clear anymore.

Fred's group of friends walked past the trinket shop heading toward the Three Broomsticks. They didn't seem to noticed you and Beatrice, as the bench you were sat on was tucked around the side of the shop. 

Fred and George were at the back of the pack. You were crossing your fingers that they would keep going toward the Three Broomsticks and not see that you were crying on a bench. But of course, George happened to look over his shoulder and saw you.

He stopped for a moment, crinkling his eyebrows and cocking his head to the side as he tried to evaluate the situation. He noticed your splotchy face, and it was clear that you had been crying. He turned to Fred, pulling him by the back of his coat.

"What?" Fred said, sounding frustrated. George motioned toward where you and Beatrice sat on the bench. You tried to shrink yourself, not wanting to speak to Fred in this moment.

"I think that's your fault," George said, referring to you in your upset state.

Fred nodded, muttering something else to his brother before he began walking toward you and Beatrice.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Beatrice challenged, her voice sounding fierce. She was trying to protect you.

"I just...we need to talk," Fred replied, sounding guilty.

Beatrice looked at you, and you nodded at her to tell her that it was okay. She stood up, giving Fred one last glare before walking off into the trinket shop to give you some space.

Fred sat on the bench, a wide space between the two of you. It felt like you were worlds apart. Just two nights ago, you were in his bed crying out his name. Now you felt like strangers.

Neither of you wanted to start the conversation, but you just wanted to get it over with at this point.

"I'm so confused," you said, sounding small. "You told me that you would never stop pursuing me and now you can't even look at me."

"Birdie...." Fred started, but nothing else came out. He didn't have anything to say.

"I know that I hurt you when I said I wasn't ready for a date at Hogsmeade. I'm sorry for that, but I didn't say no because I'm ashamed of you. I said no because the last time I was dating someone, everyone had an opinion on it. When we broke up, I could hear people whispering about me in the hallways. I don't like that," you explained.

You still weren't looking at each other, choosing to look at the ground instead.

"I don't know how to feel, Fred," you confessed. "You have spent the past couple weeks convincing me that we should be together, and we have one small disagreement and you don't even want to speak to me. That's terrifying, and that's not the kind of person that I thought you were."

Fred laced his fingers together in front of him, considering what to say to you. You were right. The way he was reacting was out of the usual.

"I'm sorry, birdie," he finally said. "I just...when you said no, it felt like proof that you thought you were too good for me."

"But Fred, I have never once said that to you," you said, turning to look at him. "You know that I don't think that. We're different people, but neither of us is better than the other."

Fred sighed. Once again, he knew that you were right.

"I know. I get in my own head sometimes. I guess it's just the way that I feel about myself. I feel like you're better than me, and I've been trying to find ways to prove that you think that too," he said, sounding defeated.

You dared to reach across the bench to hold his hand. He let you.

"Freddie, it's not possible for me to think something like that. I'm sure that people will say that you're too good for me. Every girl at school would be chuffed for the chance to date you. You're cracking at quidditch. You know how to make anyone laugh," you listed out. "There are things that you will always be better than me at. And I am better than you at other things. But that doesn't mean that I want to compare us to each other. It only reminds me of why I admire you and the ways that you inspire me to want to improve myself."

Fred finally looked at you. It seemed like he finally understood. The soft look that you were familiar with had finally returned to his eyes. 

"I'm so sorry that I made you upset," Fred said. "I was being a git. I didn't know how to handle my feelings, so I just tried to ignore you. Clearly that didn't help either of us."

You nodded your head in understanding. It felt nice to be able to talk like this again after over a day of silence and turmoil. 

"Will you let me make it up to you?" he asked, squeezing your hand that was still holding onto his. A hopeful smile played at the corners of his mouth, causing your own smile to spread across your lips.

"Alright," you agreed, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You still probably needed to work a few more things out before all could return to normal, but Fred was making steps in the right direction. You knew that you tended to hold grudges, but you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Free scooted closer to you on the bench, wrapping his arm around you. "Is it too late for that Hogsmeade date?" he asked, a light chuckle punctuating the end of his question. "You and Beatrice can join us at the Three Broomsticks. We're going to get lunch and have butter beers."

"Bea and I already had butter beers," you confessed, leaning into his warmth. "But she always loves chatting up Gryffindors. I'll see if she wants to go."

You stayed like that for another moment, cuddling on the bench before going to find Beatrice inside the trinket shop. 

——

You and Beatrice were going to the Hufflepuff party tonight, and you felt nervous for some reason. Not nearly as nervous as you were when you were getting ready for the Gryffindor party, but being with Fred in a semi-public space was brand new.

Beatrice had once again lent you a t shirt of hers, cropped just enough to hit along the waistband of your low rise jeans. She was perfecting her makeup, stationed at her desk while you stood in front of the full length mirror.

"Are you really doing this again?" she teased, referring to your struggle with getting ready earlier today. "It's just Fred. I'm sure he thinks you look great in anything. Or rather, maybe he'd prefer it if you wore nothing at all."

Beatrice chuckled deviously at you, and you picked up a pillow from her bed and threw it at her. This just made her laugh even harder. You cracked a smile, knowing that there was probably a bit of truth to her statement.

"This is the first thing we're doing together where other people can see," you said, sounding stressed. "I don't want to be the topic of gossip for the next week."

Beatrice turned in her chair to look at you. "I know love, but that's just what it's like to be with someone like Fred. He's always up to something. If you want to be with him, you'll have to get used to it."

You huffed. "You're right. It's just...being with Adrian was so peaceful. No one batted an eye until we broke up."

"You've never been someone who likes when things are easy," Beatrice commented, raising her eyebrows knowingly at you.

You shook your head at her, smirking because she was absolutely correct. You loved a good challenge. This usually meant in your academic life rather than social life, but you would try to embrace the uphill battle nonetheless.

"Let me at least put some lip gloss on you if you're going to be despised by every girl at Hogwarts for the next week," Beatrice joked, getting up to join you at the mirror.

You let her put the gloss on your lips, something sparkly but not over the top. You pressed your lips together, checking your reflection with satisfaction. "I think it's time to party," you declared.

----

You and Beatrice wandered into the Hufflepuff common room, already packed with upper year students. The music was loud, and most people were dancing in the middle of the room. Fred spotted you immediately, joining you and Beatrice near the entrance.

"You look....I have no words," Fred commented, chuckling and shaking his head. It made him flustered when he saw you out of your uniform. Especially when you wore shirts that showed off a little bit of your stomach. 

"Thanks, Freddie," you replied, taking his hand and giving him a grin. 

"Oh yuck," Beatrice joked, sticking her tongue out. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get us some drinks? We're going to hit the dance floor."

Beatrice eyed Fred up and down, waiting for him to depart to get drinks. He looked at her for a second, seemingly unsure if she was serious. She gestured toward the makeshift bar, prodding at him to fetch the drinks. He obliged, turning on his heel toward the bar.

Beatrice looped her arm through yours, dragging you to the dance floor. "I know you've got some moves, little miss prefect," she joked. "Let's see those hips move."

You scoffed at her words, scandalized by the idea of dancing in such a way. You always just did a simple sway from side to side, dancing wasn't your personal specialty. 

You tried to stay on the beat, hesitantly moving your hips from side to side. "Alright! Get it, girl!" Beatrice encouraged, giggling with you as both of you danced.

You felt a hand on your waist, and you instinctually leaned back to meet the person behind you. "I missed you, Freddie," you joked as you danced up against him.

"Freddie?" the voice asked. It was not Fred's voice.

You turned around to find Adrian behind you instead of Fred. You felt your face heat up instantly, embarrassed at your actions. You had assumed that it was Fred coming back with your drink.

"Adrian--" you started, unsure of what to say.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said, his voice raising in volume. The other students at the party began to stare at you, only making the situation feel worse.

"You've been shagging Fred Weasley?" he asked, almost yelling at you. Everyone definitely heard it, with conversations coming to a halt to watch the confrontation.

It felt like your voice was stuck in your throat. This was a scene from your nightmares. All eyes were on you, and your private life was being exposed for all to see.

You saw Fred over Adrian's shoulder, still hovering near the bar where he had a drink in each hand for you and Beatrice. He met your eyes for a moment then looked away, assuming that you were going to deny Adrian's allegations.

You cleared your throat, trying to gain some semblance of composure. "So what if I am?" you replied, squaring your shoulders.

"You've lost your bloody mind," Adrian said, shaking his head and laughing.

"Might I remind you that I have something called free will?" you shot back. "You don't own me. Now fuck off and mind your bloody business."

You crossed your arms, a fire burning in your eyes as you stared Adrian down. He huffed, seemingly unable to find a snappy reply. He pushed past you, exiting the circle that had formed around the two of you.

Everyone was still staring, and instead of staying in the middle of the crowd, you headed toward Fred.

"Fred, I'm so sor--" you started before he cut you off by slamming his lips into yours.

Fred pulled you into the kiss, one hand cradling your head and the other wrapping around your waist. You hesitated for a moment before returning his kiss, trying to ignore the attention that was on you. 

For some unknown reason, the other students began to cheer. You pulled out of the kiss, absolutely confused by the commotion. Then you realized that they were cheering for you and Fred.

You had just stood up to Adrian, which is something that almost no one would fathom doing. And you were snogging Fred Weasley, everyone's favorite prankster. It was a combination that inspired awe in your fellow students.

"Want to get out of here?" Fred asked, leaning close to your ear so you could hear him.

"Please," you said, holding his hand. He led you through the crowd and out the door, heading straight for his dormitory.

[sl-walker]

4 and 8 for writer asks. :)

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

From my story notes last year, but I've been playing with this idea since like 2003, no shit:

The original Captain Marvel in the post-Crisis universe

1940 - 10 y.o. orphan Billy Batson goes down the subway stairs and meets the wizard, thereby gaining the ability to transform into Captain Marvel.  At this point, they're still different consciousnesses.

1953 - Instead of getting trapped in Suspendium, something happens to split Captain Marvel and Billy off from one another.  An intentional sacrifice on both their parts.  Why?

Need for some kind of major power only the lightning can provide?

Whatever happens, it's an absolutely devastating thing for both of them.

Billy grows up without his alter ego, aging normally.  Mary and Freddy also do.

Skipping the 70s run, which brings us to:

1985 - CoiE

1985 - 10 y.o. Billy Batson, orphan living with Dudley, goes down the subway station, meeting the wizard; Billy is now the only one regardless of transformation status.

1987 - Billy joins the JLI for a few weeks, maybe a bit more

1992 - Billy finds his sister Mary and best friend Freddie again, but no one knows it's not for the first time.

The basic idea ultimately is that post-CoIE Billy figures out he's missing something, and the story would be a hell of a hero's journey for him to go and find and save his lost alter-ego from his past life. To remember whatever sacrifice they made the first time around. And eventually he'd succeed, which would ultimately result in them literally being different people from there on, as in different bodies entirely, which would be fascinating because Cap really kind of was a creature of magic. Of imagination. A little boy's ideal hero and role model. And dropping him whole into the modern era, sans power (which Billy would keep) and seeing how he reacts to having to become a person rather than an icon would be fascinating storytelling. (I'd also explore his character as probably-some-form-of-queer, too.)

That being said, I don't know if I'll ever get around to telling it.

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

Heh. I tend to write series, tbh. If I feel there needs to be a sequel to something, I write it.

Thanks for the ask, Best Fiend! <3 Still open.