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missaengg · 24 days ago

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Ice Skating with Crown

8 Days Until Christmas: Ice Skating Made for Ikemen Advent hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys A/N: Much thanks to @wistfulwanderingone for helping me brainstorm and for her contribution to Elbert's section!! Thank you for keeping me sane haha ❤️ Featuring: All of Ikevil and Robin Tags: humor Word Count: 1273

William Rex

Graceful.

So fucking graceful. Seriously, how is it possible for one man to look like a swan on a serene lake? To look so majestic no matter what he does? Pretty sure he either had lessons growing up or had a lot of practice because this was a regular activity for him because the man skates like he’s had figure skating lessons. He skates backwards. He skates forwards. He does spins. He does jumps. He makes it look easy. And he doesn’t even break a sweat! His clothes don’t bunch or wrinkle. His hair doesn’t have a lock out of place.

It should be a crime to look as good as William does when he skates. Seriously, it’s not fair.

Harrison Gray

Bored out of his mind.

It’s clear he doesn’t want to be here in the cold with skates on his feet going in circles inside what can essentially be considered a fish bowl. He skates languidly along the perimeter, breathing out the occasional resigned sigh. His skating is just as boring as he feels. The unchanging steady pace. The repeating of the same actions. Push off with one foot, glide until he loses momentum, repeat. Push off. Glide. Push off. Glide. Just circle after circle around the rink.

The whole thing is too troublesome for him, and to make matters worse, the snack bar doesn’t have any strawberry milk.

Liam Evans

Daredevil. Speedster. Snack bar fiend.

He’s a magenta-colored blur zipping around the rink, hurtling forward as fast as he can. The wind blows back his hair. A fanatical gleam in his rose-colored eyes. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he attempts to mimic the moves William pulls off in the center, but of course, fails miserably because he’s not a trained skater. He also doesn’t really know how to stop, meaning he’s barreling into the other skaters and knocking both of them to the hard ice. He has to be patched up by Roger a few times for various cuts and bruises.

When he’s not whipping around the rink, he’s at the snack bar buying way too much candy and getting a sugar rush, which he has to burn off with another round of haphazard skating.

Elbert Greetia

Only there because of Alfons.

Elbert spends most of his time staring at William and asking, “Alfons, is Will beautiful when he skates?”

Doesn’t skate on his own. Elbert has to be pulled around the rink by Alfons like a child, yet somehow still manages to look hauntingly beautiful. He’s obsessed with the figure skating costumes on some of the figure skaters practicing in the center, captivated by the sparkle of the rhinestones. Has to be saved from looking like a creep by Alfons because he tries to approach the young women and offer them a ridiculous amount of money to buy their outfits.

Notices you struggling to even stand in your skates, and for some unknown reason asks, “Al… Is Robin beautiful?”

To which Alfons laughs hysterically and replies, “She looks like a governess who mistook the ice for a polished parquet floor and a waltz partner. So no, unless you think that’s beautiful.”

Alfons Sylvatica

Elbert’s keeper. Incorrigible flirt.

Is very tempted to answer yes when Elbert asks if William is beautiful because that would be an entertaining exchange to watch. He doesn’t though. Not because they’re in public, that would just add to the entertainment factor. It’s because even though he tries to hide it, he actually cares for the taciturn blonde.

When not looking after Elbert, Alfons brazenly sidles up to you, whispering suggestive comments about what he’d like to do to your — *ahem* — kitty and finding great amusement in watching you nearly face plant as your face turns red in indignation.

Roger Barel

Crown’s Liam’s doctor and overall trickster.

Roger skates like a hockey player. He’s a bit of a show-off, complete with weaving in and out between the other skaters at high speeds and spraying ice when he skids to a stop. He thinks it’s great fun to scare the living shit out of you by coming up from behind and grabbing your shoulders with that shit-eating grin on his face, laughing boisterously when you almost fall on your ass, much to your chagrin. Your heart may have stopped a few times because of his antics.

When he’s not on the rink scaring the living daylight out of you, he’s on the sidelines patching up curious kitty Liam and only Liam because he’s the only one who has managed to hurt himself whilst skating.

Ellis Twilight

Residential good boy.

Sweet, baby boy Ellis is the one helping other skaters they fall, offering them a hand to pull them back up. He’s helped so many people that he’s mistaken as one of the employees with skaters coming up to him if they need any help.

Surprisingly graceful when he skates — though not as graceful as William — covering a lot of ground despite not skating very fast because of his long legs. He’s the only member of Crown who tries to teach you how to skate, doing the thing where he holds your hands and leads you around the rink while he skates backwards. He also tries to fend off the more mischievous members of Crown, but isn’t able to stay by your side the whole time.

Jude Jazza

Nowhere to be found.

Jude only came because Victor strong-armed him into attending. He disappears as soon as the group arrives at the ice skating rink, and can be found outside chain smoking cigarettes, grumbling about how the entire outing is stupid and a waste of time.

When he sees Liam hurt himself, he gets a sadistic, wicked gleam in his amethyst-colored eyes. He seeks out the owner of the establishment and threatens them with a lawsuit unless they comp the entry tickets and the skate rentals. The owner complies immediately because Jude is so god damn terrifying, especially when his eyes narrow into slits, glaring at you as if his eyes alone can cut you into a million tiny pieces.

Also uses this to negotiate free snacks for the group.

Victor

The Mom.

The first thing Victor does is to buy a round of hot chocolate for everyone saying something about how they need to stay warm so they don’t catch a cold, but is devastated when Harrison, Roger, and Jude choose not to partake. He encourages his lovely Crown members to be free in their skating and follow the wicked desires in their hearts, even if it leads to havoc… aka Liam.

He doesn’t skate, but watches over them from the sidelines, happy and gleeful that his “children” seem to be enjoying themselves — for the most part, which for Crown means that it’s a relatively successful outing.

Already planning the next one. Sledding? Skiing? Something snow related. After all, it’s almost Christmas!

Robin

Skating? What’s that?

You wobble on your skates like a newborn calf, clutching the railing for dear life and creeping along inch by inch trying not to fall on your ass. Until Alfons, Roger, or Liam knock you over, and you’re sliding on your tailbone wondering what the hell just happened while they laugh like the assholes they are. Except Liam. Liam’s about to cry while he apologizes profusely over and over again even after you reassure him you’re okay.

Massaging your bruised butt and stiff muscles, you wonder why the hell you thought this would be a great idea when Victor first mentioned it because let’s face it… you’ve never skated before in your life!

Thank god for Ellis.

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cosmica-galaxy · 9 months ago

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How a Clock Mimic eats:

I call them "soul stealers" (Clock mimics), but I actually think they are mostly after the prey's cells or stored energy. Hence, life "energy". You could be all typical and whimsical and say "oh they steal souls or whatever lol", but it's more scientific then that.

They literally REACH into your body to steal all of your sources of energy. Every cell in your body makes energy and it draws its nourishment from that. When I say "sucks you dry", I mean that in a partial literal sense.

The biggest reason why the prey of a clock mimic will lay on the ground and look all confused, is mostly because the clock mimic drains out all of their cells that produce energy. This could be components of your blood, your stored fat and carbs, as well as anything else they can literally DRAIN out of you. Your nutrients becomes THEIR nutrients. In a way, it's similar to the drill mimics, but in a much more prestigious way with much more damage.

Most of their prey actually die from lack of blood PRESSURE then actual blood loss, as well as becoming comatose because their brain has had all of the energy rich cells/fats/carbs ripped STRAIGHT out of them, causing a lethal dip in the homeostasis that keeps your body in equilibrium. You can also tell if a creature is a victim of a clock mimic if they bleed a grayish WHITE "blood" or their eyes are entirely gray. Yes. The clock mimics can even take pigmentation from their prey. Irises, pupils, hair, hemoglobin, ect. This is what causes the "rapid aging" effect when they drain a victim.

THAT is what makes them terrifying and VERY dangerous. As well as having a VERY slow metabolism, clock mimics can compact the energy they take into their own body, usually in the chest or "head" compartment. It's argued that these versions of mimic don't even have a stomach, which is why they drain vitality from other external sources to get the nutrients they need to power their own organic parts. That also makes their heads, unfortunately, pretty valuable as energy containers or long term batteries. As the body of the clock mimic contains that energy so effectively, it can power devices for months, or years if it's a large mimic, even LONG after the clock mimic has died. Because their body can no longer ingest the material they consumed, it simply sits as a compacted energy inside of their head or chest, waiting to naturally burn out with decomposition or…be put to use by lucky scavengers. In a way, Clock Mimics can be considered "parasitic feeders", since they rely on other organisms to survive. However, "friendly" Clock Mimics can leave prey alive by managing how they drain. So instead of draining them entirely and causing lethal damage, they have a more gentle approach and will steadily drain the host in a careful manner to avoid causing serious damage. When the prey begins to feel the effects too much, the mimic will retract. Alliance scientists have dubbed the lethal feeding as "Parasitic" and the more friendly and polite version of feeding as "Vampiric". One kills the prey and the other merely feeds on them just enough to satisfy. -- This has been a log from the resident human. Logger: Resident Human Subject: Feeding Mimic: Clock Mimic (Comrade)

#Yeah so Camera Mimics = Werewolves and Clock Mimics = Vampires #haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #skibidi tag #skibidi toilet mimic #skibidi mimic #Clock Mimic #Mimic Comrade #Resident human logs #skibidi multiverse

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call-me-rucy · 15 days ago

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Hey Rucy, I know that you said gameplay stuff is fine in all forms. However, I'm also concerned about edits/memes and even musical remixes that use audio / voice lines. Because of point 8 in this list, it makes it seem like all of these are in danger of being taken down. And do you think "still images" means screenshots? And I guess guides of the answers to the puzzles are technically bad now too. [Regarding to their third main point in the guideline page.]

Going back to the remixes thing. Would making a remix of like, their songs/melodies, be bad because it's technically music of their games? [Point 8 of the prohibited items list that I'm most concerned about]

So sorry if I've asked anything inappropriate or is out of your comfort zone of answering. I've just been thinking about this ever since I heard about it and I'm trying to understand everything as well as I can.

Hi there, Ashe!

Don't worry, ask all you want! Just know, I'm the same, trying to understand it all through, so I only can answer with what I know at any given moment.

I do think that still images means screenshots, yes! And yes, indeed it seems like puzzle guides in form of videos and screenshots seem to be affected by point 3. Which is... all of guides, because how do you do a layton guide without screenshots. We have to take care and archive guides as well. If you know good guides, I reccomend using webarchive on them.

It makes me wonder, because the go-to guides for the spanish layton guides are hosted by Nintendo, officially. Surely they won't take that one down?

And about point 8...

About point 8.

I must thank you enormously for this ask, Ashe, because I'm only now realizing that the verb used in point 8 can have two meanings. I took it to mean listening, as in, don't edit the movies to extract the music to listen to it. But I just looked it up in the dictionary and it can indeed mean "watch" as well TT_TT

視聴 Noun, Suru verb, Transitive verb 1. looking and listening; (television) viewing; watching

So I was assuming edits were only covered by point 3, but it seems point 8 of "Forbidden" refers to them specifically too... Sigh...

So about "Would making a remix of like, their songs/melodies, be bad because it's technically music of their games?", I'm not entirely sure.

We've established that cutscenes and the music edited together to be watched or listened to exactly as it is in gamemight be a no go. But then there is such things as transformative use.

You see, I got an ask right after yours that goes a bit deeper into the law stuff, saying that L-5 is trying to follow international copyright law, which is similar to US copyright law (I will publish it when I answer it in a bit).

And Wikipedia says: "In United States copyright law, transformative use or transformation is a type of fair use that builds on a copyrighted work in a different manner or for a different purpose from the original, and thus does not infringe its holder's copyright".

Fanfic is transformative work, that's why AO3 is legal. From my non-law eyes, I'd say maybe a remix and an edit could be a transformative work as well? LAW ANON, IF YOU'RE READING THIS, PLEASE HELP!

I think the problem would arise if you're trying to mimic the official experience of the game outside of the game. Like in cutscene compilations that tell you the whole story of the game.

With that in mind, my proposed approach is:

Do not panic

No need to remove old stuff unless you are specifically asked by the platform/level-5, or maybe it will automatically removed, idk how that's gonna work

If you get your stuff removed please share that info so we can know more exactly what it's being affected

For new stuff, follow the guidelines when you can (e.g. comment your gameplays, add banners or borders to your streams, warn for spoilers, crediting L-5 in videos)

Archive the old stuff you like. This is a bit of "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst". (It is a good practice as a general rule: you never know when some fav playlist maker will choose to delete old videos on a whim, and this is as good of a time to start saving as any other).

#level-5 new guideline #professor layton

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toiletdestroyer3415 · 9 months ago

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here's the silly little pikmin wraith I've been holding hostage in my brain.

meet the amber wraith!

for visualization, he's an amber-orange color (obviously) and takes on the form of a wormy fella. his core is shaped like an egg and is a glossy black color with two glimmer (✨) shapes on each side of the egg, with the pointy end turning and twisting around inside the goop whenever he wants to focus on something.

this guy is a WEAKLING. unlike other wraiths, his body can't absorb mass normally since he has ZERO digestive enzymes and he can't quite solidify himself aside from a sort of 'squishy but not goopy' form. that means his core is very very vulnerable.

BUT. he has a gimmick.

he's able to possess creatures up to ten times his size, and use them as a sort of puppet/mouth so they can digest food FOR him, like a parasite. and his core is buried somewhere in there so he has a better defense.

he can trap creatures in place by surrounding them and forming a little structure similar to hydro jelly in terms of consistency, but this takes up his own goop. this is either to 'wear' them for later or come back controlling a host so he can eat whatever he's trapped.

I made a silly little thing where he sort of kind of is holding an entire human being hostage.

not a captain. a human.

he originally had a lot more mass coming onto PNF-404 but the gravity didn't allow him to keep much of his form, so he had to shrink down. with all the excess mass he couldn't carry around, he trapped a perfect candidate to be 'worn', a human that, unfortunately, happened to be around! and yes, it was scared! very scared!

so now he's just holding it hostage until the time is right to bring it out, since when trapping creatures, it has a unique ability to act like a time capsule and prevent creatures from moving or aging without needing food or water.

this is because it has regenerative properties! so he's not just holding a human hostage, he's molding it to become the biggest, baddest beast. he's done this before with other creatures, but he's taking his sweet time perfecting his 'weapon,' as he likes to call it. so PNF-404 has plenty of time before some horrid, gigantic, ancient beast is unleashed by a crazy mass of orange goop. also he forgot that humans were sentient and overrid it's brain, essentially wiping its memory and turning it into a stupid two-legged monster. oops!

luckily, on every creature he possesses, there's a cute little weak spot somewhere marked by a little splotch of orange goop. since it's vulnerable to most elements, attacking it enough times will cause him to lose mass and in turn, lose control of whatever body he's currently using if attacked enough times, and he'll be ejected from the host and needs to run away. plus he sucks at controlling beasts and they are usually slower than normal whenever he's controlling them, especially on larger species like bulblaxes. so the human he plans to possess is going to be hella slow, slow enough to give whatever fearless soul(s) brave enough to face him a good chance at defeating him.

for now though, he's just hiding in his cave plotting evil stuff. he's not good at it, but he's still evil.

since he can't solidify like other wraiths, he can't mimic captains. but what's to stop him from possessing one? nudge nudge

#pikmin #pikmin wraith #wraith #humans in pikmin #he is evil gummy worm that goes in your brain and makes you eat bugs #that also removes your identity your morals your memories and your sense of self too i guess #amber wraith

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howlingday · 10 months ago

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Ok so Lore dump time. So I said I will be doing the guardians Magiolems but I realized that I never talk about the current Keeper. But I'm sticking to my word. Now all Magiolems have the ability to teleport to each other and speak telepathically so i won't be repeating that. They can also repair them selves if damaged if material they are made out if around or use spare magic to heal. I might have to spilt this into two parts. So without a futher ado the Guardians

Name Gravitos(Grav-I-Tos) He/Him/It

Appearance: Is a large house like mech. Mainly colored a dark wooden brown with a coffee colored bricks and dark Grey joints.

Aura:Unlocked Semblance:Targeting he can keep track to up 15 different people no matter where they are in Remenat.

Magic:Gravity(He push or pull things towards himself. Make things lighter or heavier. Compress objects by making a gravity bubble. Make a barrier around himself to reflect attacks.) Size change(Can make himself the size of 8 story building or as small as a paladin.) Magic sensing.

Other notes: Gravitos is by far the strongest and largest of the Guardians. He's also the oldest living Guardian being 1000 of years old. He's does have a soul and Aura. He's not active the current story because his size makes him quite noticeable. He's usually about the size of the Atlas mech used to kill the Levatin in Argus. He's a calm mostly silent being not capable of speaking outside his body or the connection with other Guardians. He is straight to the point not caring how mean it makes him seem. He will often use violence as a eay to quickly complete hus missons as few things by themselves are threats to him. Also highly intelligent and experienced. He acts as a sort of data storage and digital assistant when his body is not active. His main purpose was to hold people and torture them for info.

Main Inspiration is from a graphic novel called Amulet with a vehicle that looked like a house. Photo below.

Name: Souless Stalker They/Them/It

Appearance: A lanky android with light metal and it's entire body. A flattish face expect two bulging glowing eyes and a jaw with razor sharp teeth. Claws on hands and feet. Tends to hunch over when not in combat or mimicking someone.

Aura:No not possible

Magic: Flesh Growth(With a small amount of DNA he can grow large amounts of that DNA.) Size Change. Fire. Voice Mimic(Can mimic any voice its heard before) Magic sensing(The ability to sense Magic and magic users location and how much Magic they have.) Shape-shifting(Able to change the shape of his body to fix the situation) Invisibly(Make it unable to be seen)

Other Notes: Souless is the most outright Dangerous of the Guardians. Remember Shiver? Well this guy is literally made out of it. Now unlike Anti-Aura metal silver eyes can't negate the effects or destory Shiver. Soulless is mentally unstable and often attacks others than are Magiolems or the Keeper. It is brutal and mercilessly in fights. Very good with robotics and copying people. It can mimic any fighting style it sees but not semblances. It even creeps out the other Magiolems and stays off for ustablely. It can grow flesh on its self to copy the looks of other people. Hates all Arcs and will enter a violent rage to murder them no matter what.(Yes even Adrian) Lastly crippling fear of Ozma(All hosts) and Salem runs away if it sees them and if it can't it curls up into a ball and makes crying noises.

Main Inspiration: The Mimic from Fnaf

Name: Fern *Name may change on a later date*

Appearance: He is a human skeleton covered in moss and vines to move around. His body when under disguise is a slightly tanned Japanese man with dark green hair. He where a large rimmed hat and a long white coat with deep pockets. White button up shirt with blue pants and Thick brown boots.

Aura:Yes Semblance:No

Magic:Plant control(He can grow,control and even connect to plants) Mushroom control(He can grow and control plants) Plant Monsters(He can make plant monsters such as a toxic gas shooting hryda or a wolf deer hybrid. Note all made out of plant and mushroom matter) Strength boosting(He is able to boost his strength even futher than others are able normally.) Growth(He adds to his own mass to increase the power of blows and make himself faster) Bullet seed(Able to shoot seeds out of his hands like bullets and also be turned into machine gun fire rate and even cannon shots with cocnuts.

Other notes: this is the a currently active Guardian that guards a collection of Grimm and Plants stored in Small magic pocket dimension spheres. Some even thought to be extinct like the Nightmare Grimm. His base is a old town over run with plants surround by a thick lay of trees and highly toxic plants. He is a smug amd proud fighter. He's speaks with an American Gangster Accent. He gets angry when his plants are destroyed. He helps those when ot can benefit him and his boss or hurt the Arcs. He likes to talk a lot by is often alone for longs periods of time due to his Job. Likes to watch crimes shows.

Main Inspiration: The man on the internet song on Floral Fury

Thats all for now. There is 3 Guardians left. Wow this was strangely tiring. Is that normal? Anyway stuff is open to change on later dates.

Thoughts? Criticism? Ideas?

OH! I remember Amulet! It's been a while since I read it, so I might have to reread it. Honestly, Gravitos kinda reminds me of the wardens from Darksiders.

Just this huge, massive thing that acts as an obstacle/gate.

The Soulless Stalker sounds absolutely terrifying. Especially that "hates all Arcs even Adrian" bit. That's a set up for a horror scene if I've heard one. Kinda got sort of a Warhammer Flayed One vibe from it.

This walking nightmare of flesh and metal makes me SHIVER every time! Ah? Ah? Ah, screw it...

Honestly, Fern sounds like a decent fella. Can't really think of a character to compare him to, except maybe Poison Ivy or Swamp Thing.

Covered in green and dedicated to protecting the Green.

#rwby #worldbuilding #my thoughts #my answer #my answers

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spearxwind · 2 years ago

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Alright, swinging in for a second round of Hollowridge asks: 1) Just because he's a personal favourite. How is Beial doing? 2) Richard is the big bad cult boss, right? (once again just trying to rummage together what I can glean from your blog). Does he have a design? 3) I honestly just want to know more abt Dragonfang, are they also some form of array/machinery?

YES!!! I'm so excited

Beial is fine!! He's back in his bar, and said bar is back in Hollowridge :) He's the boss there (and coincidentally, Adri's boss now too. Because he works there now. You can see this very briefly here) Bei doesn't have a specific take on the main story, or at least not at the moment (he's pretty uninterested), he simply runs his place like a businessman (businessdog) and is around to cause mischief and make money. The gang uses the place as a main hangout. It's basically like, he's a morally corrupt bar owner, the main squad ends up hanging out there to plan their horrid little war crimes and Bei is in the bg offering his two cents occasionally and letting them plan war crimes in there

YES Richard is the Big Bad Guy, Leader of the Van Riel machine cult (I mean. The cult is named after him and everything) And he does have a design! I never shared it online before but I have been drawing him for a while x) I doodled him really quick though so I had some up to date art of him

Guy who is so horrid for real

3. Yeah, Dragonfang is a mimic! All mimics are rogue nanomachinery that parasitize things in different ways, dragonfang is a small nanomachine swarm that's using Adam as a host to keep itself operational, and in exchange Adam gets his arm back and can summon a cool sword at will. Dragonfang is also sapient but cannot speak, she communicates through emotions only (literally beams them directly into Adam's spine)

#ask #windyart #richard #the hollowridge disaster #thank you once again for the questions!!!! im so excited to be talking abt HR again im fuckin HYPED #i know im posting this hella early ill reblog it later

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shmorp-mcdurgen · 2 years ago

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there were so many details in this it was so good. im gonna rapidfire some questions and im guessing some are spoilers/were already answered in text but

is host cesar??? or some kind of cesar? since the human cesar's in that hell world place

is the house sort of like a hivemind type thing? people seem to be able to feel its heartbeat, i wonder if that means that the trapped people are connected through it somehow

this ones silly but was thatcher the officer that tripped trying to chase them. i thought that was really funny. loser ass cop falls right on his face trying to chase two guys

i may not have read close enough and theres probably context if i reread but cesar seems to have shoved adam back into the sea type thing?

did host mimic cesar's mom? or did the house do that? is she capable of mimicking people like that?

He is not the same as Human Cesar. you'll learn more about him later on :)

Yes and no. everyone inside can think for themselves but. they're also connected.

I didn't think about Thatcher being the one to trip but. yeah that would be funny if he was GHEJFKDS-

Yes, Cesar shoved him back into the "sea". he saved Adam's life by doing that basically.

Yes, if you're referring to the phone call, it was Host.

#asks are neat #tmc home sweet home au #hsh spoilers #Gah I hope everyone who wanted to read vol 2 filtered out that tag cause. hoo boy- /lh

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learnindigitalmarketing123 · 1 year ago

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What is React Native?

React Native is a JavaScript framework for writing real, natively rendering mobile applications for iOS and Android. It’s based on React, Facebook’s JavaScript library for building user interfaces, but instead of targeting the browser, it targets mobile platforms. In other words: web developers can now write mobile applications that look and feel truly “native,” all from the comfort of a JavaScript library that we already know and love. Plus, because most of the code you write can be shared between platforms, React Native makes it easy to simultaneously develop for both Android and iOS.

Similar to React for the Web, React Native applications are written using a mixture of JavaScript and XML-esque markup, known as JSX. Then, under the hood, the React Native “bridge” invokes the native rendering APIs in Objective-C (for iOS) or Java (for Android). Thus, your application will render using real mobile UI components, not webviews, and will look and feel like any other mobile application. React Native also exposes JavaScript interfaces for platform APIs, so your React Native apps can access platform features like the phone camera, or the user’s location.

React Native currently supports both iOS and Android, and has the potential to expand to future platforms as well. In this book, we’ll cover both iOS and Android. The vast majority of the code we write will be cross-platform. And yes: you can really use React Native to build production-ready mobile applications! Some anecdota: Facebook, Palantir, and TaskRabbit are already using it in production for user-facing applications.

Advantages of React Native

The fact that React Native actually renders using its host platform’s standard rendering APIs enables it to stand out from most existing methods of cross-platform application development, like Cordova or Ionic. Existing methods of writing mobile applications using combinations of JavaScript, HTML, and CSS typically render using webviews. While this approach can work, it also comes with drawbacks, especially around performance. Additionally, they do not usually have access to the host platform’s set of native UI elements. When these frameworks do try to mimic native UI elements, the results usually “feel” just a little off; reverse-engineering all the fine details of things like animations takes an enormous amount of effort, and they can quickly become out of date.

In contrast, React Native actually translates your markup to real, native UI elements, leveraging existing means of rendering views on whatever platform you are working with. Additionally, React works separately from the main UI thread, so your application can maintain high performance without sacrificing capability. The update cycle in React Native is the same as in React: when props or state change, React Native re-renders the views. The major difference between React Native and React in the browser is that React Native does this by leveraging the UI libraries of its host platform, rather than using HTML and CSS markup.

For developers accustomed to working on the Web with React, this means you can write mobile apps with the performance and look and feel of a native application, while using familiar tools. React Native also represents an improvement over normal mobile development in two other areas: the developer experience and cross-platform development potential.

Developer Experience

If you’ve ever developed for mobile before, you might be surprised by how easy React Native is to work with. The React Native team has baked strong developer tools and meaningful error messages into the framework, so working with robust tools is a natural part of your development experience.

For instance, because React Native is “just” JavaScript, you don’t need to rebuild your application in order to see your changes reflected; instead, you can hit Command+R to refresh your application just as you would any other web page. All of those minutes spent waiting for your application to build can really add up, and in contrast React Native’s quick iteration cycle feels like a godsend.

Additionally, React Native lets you take advantage of intelligent debugging tools and error reporting. If you are comfortable with Chrome or Safari’s developer tools (Figure 1-1), you will be happy to know that you can use them for mobile development, as well. Likewise, you can use whatever text editor you prefer for JavaScript editing: React Native does not force you to work in Xcode to develop for iOS, or Android Studio for Android development.

#digital marketing #content creation #technology

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schuylerpeck · 2 years ago

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Hey, the half-frozen rain kisses my cheeks and I love you.

Pushed out of the darkness by a street~lamp, the vermilion flame of a maple tree mimics the soul of a dancer I fell in love with, both flame and fae, dangerously mesmerising and seemingly perfectly unaware of their power. On the countertop, a crate overfilled with persimmons mimics the forgotten treasure of a retired pirate. On my messy desk, the half-used square of red watercolour mimics something too, I'm sure, but its dreams are just out of my reach.

Winter comes back and some days feel like I'm spinning, endlessly circling back to the same movements, the same words, the same ideas. More and more, I'm okay with that. I love in circles, doesn't it make sense that I tell it in circles as well ?

I go back to familiar songs, thinking about voices lost and found again. Back to feeling gentle, thinking about the numerous times unknown children came fearlessly to greet me. Back to the water, thinking about a dreamed creek gifted to a stranger I've grown fond of. And going round and round doesn't feel so bad when it brings back the words, the kindness and the beloved places. The leaves keep falling, uncaging the sky, and my heart turns fire red, dedicated to keeping me warm but willing also to help me try and keep others warm.

And my gifts for you today, for no other reason than we're here in this world at the same time, are a bright red flame, a universe full of circles and the promise that circling back isn't necessarily a bad thing.

I hope you sleep tight, when night reaches you. I don't know you but I love you.

Hey, there’s a mug of coffee for you on the table and I love you.

are you staying warm? do you have plans to go home? are you there already, laughing at the end of a dining room table or helping family in the kitchen? the wind picked up last night and covered the west coast in a blanket of frost. I wandered out in it this morning, not wanting to break the hushed air, not wanting to touch the spotless snowbanks, but just to sit and exist beside it for a while. across the country, my dad calls, frustrated in a congested vein of traffic. under his annoyance, I can hear the car radio play the same holiday station, hosted by the same sweet voice my siblings and I fondly remember. “may this season bring you so much happiness, from Delilah.”

when I talk about what I want for my life, I know my dreams seem much smaller. the room we’ve been given to dream, the futures that might lie ahead don’t seem to hold the sparkle we were promised, but I will still make something beautiful of this, if only to my eyes. my dad wonders why I would ever leave the city. my friends wait to hear what else might follow, what big vision might match my excitement. a small corner of somewhere, I hammer away an afternoon fixing up the stairs. a summer the room smells like fresh paint, a shade of blush. a neighborhood fox I wave to, glowing red in the snow. the wood-paneled pub a few friends and I will meet in for birthday parties or trivia some Tuesday nights. a favorite window I’ll write from. listening to the radio, watching the world again, happy to exist beside it.

yes, I’m sad there might be things I never see. no, this doesn’t mean I’m giving up yet. but I’m finding contentment is not far from where I rest my shoes. and maybe that feels like the biggest thing I can give me. more than all the futures that had been decided for me, this finally feels like mine. a wish I’m sending for you too, though I’m sorry if it looks silly, I wasn’t quite sure how to wrap it. a sense, maybe when winter comes back around, and hopefully sooner of course, that you might untie your boots, look up for a moment, and feel a warm rush of love for where you are — that we both might unfurl our scarves, wherever we might be, and feel at home. it’s my gift to you (though the mail may take a while to reach you) if for no other reason than we are here in this world at the same time.

goodnight, you, I hope you sleep tight when night reaches you. I don’t know you, but I love you.

#I don't know you but I love you #idkybily #poetry #poems #winter

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

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New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

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cosmica-galaxy · 7 months ago

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Heyo! Sorry to bother with such an odd question but when a Mimic (no specific type. Just in general overall) is expecting, what are the signs to know? Do they experience symptoms the same way humans or like animals or is it entirely different?

Yes! They do have symptoms that help the human or other mimics let them know they are expecting a litter or little ones! Some signs are pretty universal, such as increased eating (or more hunger in general), moodiness, and nesting behaviors. Depending on the type of mimic, they will display one of the three symptoms listed above.

For example, Camera Mimics are much more likely to exhibit more hunger or general moodiness. While Speaker Mimics will demonstrate more hunger and nesting behavior. TV mimics are a trick bag and will likely have all three due to how long their gestation period is in comparison to the other mimics. As for the general pregnancy cycle... All mimics are live-birthers and carry their young in their bodies, similar to humans. The unique thing about mimic pregnancy is that if one mimic parent gave birth the year before, the other mimic in the relationship will likely take up the "mother" role for the next year! Which means either one can get pregnant! Why they do so is usually because spacing out the responsibility lessens complications to their health or if it's their "turn" to rear children for that year. Due to the mimic's ability to swap genders as they see fit, they can swap roles freely! During pregnancy, the carrier will be given more food than normal from their partner and a large nest will be constructed to their liking. Usually walled with soft materials or coverings. The partner will also build two distinct places that radiate both cooling and heating, to keep their partner comfortable. The carrier will also be much more moody than normal. Snapping, growling, or whimpering much more often than usual. Regardless, the partner will comfort their mate as they carry their young through thick and thin. The only difference between mimic pregnancies is usually how their partners/clans help handle the pregnant mimic.

Camera Mimics will help look after the pregnant mimic by sharing food or providing liquids to help keep the mother healthy, especially if the mother mimic is their alpha. Speaker Mimics are much more social and usually host "baby parties" for expecting mothers, bringing gifts, food, and other novelties for the party. TV mimics are usually isolated with only the partners being together, in which the "father" mimic will dote on their beloved and stay with them to keep their mate comfortable and happy. When the months are up and it's time to bring the baby/babies into the world, the process is similar to humans. Once born, mimic young will take a moment to gather their bearings before they begin to chitter for food. Meat/veggies are usually prepared in advance before they are born and are fed to the babies by the "father" mimic while the "mother" mimic recovers from the birthing process. After that, the mimic family has grown! <: )

#haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #skibidi tag #anonymous #anon asks #anon ask #skibidi toilet mimic #skibidi mimic #tw pregnancy #tw pregnancy mention

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thepermanentrainpress · 2 years ago

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CONCERT REVIEW: MAGDALENA BAY AT FORTUNE SOUND CLUB - SEPTEMBER 28TH, 2022

Synth-pop duo Mica Tenenbaum (lead singer and songwriter) and Matthew Lewin (producer) dazzled the stage at Vancouver’s Fortune Sound Club on September 28. Working together since their high school’s music program, the pair formed Magdalena Bay. Although they’ve been making music for quite some time, this is the first tour to celebrate their debut studio album, Mercurial World. On their opening night of tour, they performed a beautifully curated show and performance.

Fortune Sound Club is an intimate venue; small and known for hosting more ‘underground’ artists. They may have underestimated Magdalena Bay’s cult following though, especially after the rise of their song “Killshot.” The song reached viral success — more on that later. A packed club held space for Negative Gemini to open with an energetic performance, drawing influences from early 2000’s punk rock, glitch-core, and hyperpop. Her high-pitched voice and engaged stage presence had the crowd going long before Magdalena Bay even came out, which was great.

The entire show was a highlight. Magdalena Bay is known for their ironic self-awareness and kitschy visuals, but I was not expecting such a complete show. They did not come here just to perform, they came to give us a concert. I feel like this is something a lot of artists lose on their music journey. However, Magdalena Bay started with “Secrets (Your Fire)” and did not hold back on taking us on a vapourwave / future funk nostalgia trip in sound and stage.

Mica’s voice is breathy and delightful, perfectly matching the whimsical airiness of the band’s sound. Her flowery, “dancing freely in your room” stage presence was also charming and fun to watch (and mimic). The entire crowd swayed with her, especially during the cutesy-pop song “Hysterical Us” and funky “U Wanna Dance?” She – and the band’s overall live demeanor – reminded me of Kero Kero Bonito’s Sarah, or even Charli XCX, and I consider these singers to be experts in riling up a crowd.

After the first few songs, the band took a pause to introduce what made the show so special — Chaeri! Chaeri, as represented by a floating holographic head, is an AI that is learning how to become more human. Mica primarily interacted with Chaeri by giving the AI a few poignant yes or no questions, followed by the conclusion that the AI could become more human by learning other people’s secrets (and thus, their emotions). Chaeri’s motivation became the narrative for the entire show, with each song relating human experience and emotion.

This storyline was so intentional that they played pre-recorded ‘secrets’ — shown as tracks on their album — throughout the show for Chaeri to react to, letting Mica and Chaeri banter further. I felt that this gave the concert meaning, like an arc. By the time the dreamy “Halfway” came on, I was invested in Chaeri’s storyline. A secret about having a crush came on, and the band performed “You Lose!,” which not only showcased Mica’s vocal range but also Lewin’s instrumental prowess in production. The way each instrument gave a new layer of texture to contrast Mica’s reverbed voice was a joy to experience live.

Toward the end of the concert, Chaeri commented on the crowd’s “bodies moving rhythmically,” to which Mica explained was dancing. This was after “How to Get Physical,” a groovy disco-inspired number. During the instrumental interlude of the song, Chaeri commented on wanting to join, and in order to do that, Mica said she needed a body. After encouraging the crowd — “Body! Body! Body!” — Mica pulled off a cloaked robot body with Chaeri’s head now attached to a screen “head.” It was incredible. Like, the way the crowd went ballistic for this fictional AI becoming human was amazing.

The band encored with their most famous hit, “Killshot.” As if I wasn’t impressed by the story they just gave us, part way through the song, they paid homage to the ‘reason’ for their sudden increase in popularity: anime fancam edits. Mica said, “here's some sexy anime!” and suddenly, a bunch of TikTok edits using the “slowed + reverb” version of “Killshot” appeared on the screen. I recognized a handful and it just felt so personal and sweet, much like the rest of the concert.

I hope that Magdalena Bay keeps their charm, artistic vision, and unique sound. I also hope that they stay closely informed about their audience, as well as music trends! I am so excited for them to come back.

Written by: Alexa Tarrayo

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gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

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Tempers and Temptation

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: Ron lets his feelings get the better of him when he finds you spending some time with his brother, and when his temper boils over, it leads to a long overdue confession.

— “Can you shut up for once in your life?”

— “I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now.”

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: arguing, jealousy, insecurities, angst, mild swearing, fluff, requited love, kissing

A/N: This is my fic for @theweasleysredhair 9k writing challenge! The prompts I’ve chosen are listed above, and they will be bolded and italicized in the fic! (Also, Fred is alive in this one!) Congratulations again my darling Chloe, you deserve all the love and more!

(not my gif, credits to the maker)

It was the beginning of the summer season, just a week and a half before Charlie’s wedding. The Weasley’s had all flocked back to their beloved family home for the once in a lifetime occasion for their brother, the new and improved Burrow now bustling with jovial energy. Harry had come with Ginny, Ron had picked you up on his way, Bill and Fleur were there first with Percy, and Hermione would soon join the family in the next couple of days to come. The decision to host the wedding there was one that was made hesitantly with the way Bill and Fleur’s had ended so tragically. But, the tight-knit family had decided the past was going to be put behind them and they refused to let it tarnish another special day. Their home was remodeled and desperately ready for new and brighter memories.

It was supposed to be a fun trip, and it had been at first, but Ron’s rather bitter mood had begun to sour yours after a while. His irritation only seemed to be directed towards you, you’d noticed, barely speaking more than a few words to you and only when you addressed to him first. The reasoning for his change in behavior was something you weren’t privy to, but you tried your hardest to brush it off and hope it’d resolve soon so you could enjoy your time with your best friend. You were surprised he’d even sat with you at dinner that evening, though he hadn’t contributed very much to the conversation. He opted to push the food around on his plate instead.

George nudges your arm, effectively pulling your attention from Ron to look to your left. You raised a brow at his grin, Fred peering over his brothers shoulder at you with an identical smile. Surely they were up to something; they always were. “What have you done now?”

George leaned in close, speaking in a hushed whisper, wiggling his brows.

“We’ve got a little prank for the groom.” He looks to Charlie momentarily, turning back to you as you gaze up at him curiously when he holds up the smallest of potion bottles. “A couple drops of this and his hair will be as colorful as mum’s flowers!”

You couldn’t stifle your laughter, covering your mouth when you grabbed the attention of the older Weasley in question across the table. Ron sat a little straighter in his seat, his grip on his fork tightening as he exhaled a huff through his nose. The sound of your giggling made his stomach churn, the tips of his ears burning cherry red. You hadn’t paid him and his temper very much mind the whole dinner, hadn’t stolen any food from his plate, hadn’t made a point to embarrass him in front of his family like you usually had. Perhaps it was because you were too busy giving all your attention to his brother; it seemed as though you were always doing that. And he was absolutely not jealous of it.

“Are you okay, Ron?” You ask softly after a while, the sound of his huffing no longer a coincidence and your brows furrowed in concern at the redhead brooding next to you.

“I’m fine,” he dismisses, too quick for it to even be remotely truthful. He shrugs his shoulders as he looks anywhere but at you.

You frown at the sharpness of his tone, his answer once again just as short and vague as all the others. Your gaze lingered on him and he knew it, shifting around in his seat as his cheeks flush a pale pink. After a few moments you look away, only briefly. “Are you sure? You’re acting weird.”

“I said I’m fine, Y/n.”

The crease between your brows deepens, your frown remaining as your heart flips in your chest and it was quite obvious he was at odds with you. You brush it off and stuff down the hurt that bubbled in your stomach, repeating his actions as you shove the food around on your plate. His shoulders slumped a bit more at the look on your face, but the way George had whisked you away into conversation had him quickly swallowing down his apology.

He felt you hadn’t seemed too bothered anyway, but it very much bothered him. He wanted nothing more than to steal you just for one day, to have your undivided attention just for once this trip. Unbeknownst to him he could have it whenever he wanted it, but his stubborn attitude and his rash assumptions had pushed you away. The conclusions he’s jumped head first into had gotten him into a trouble only he could bail himself out of, whenever he’s ready to think rationally, that is.

He’d spent the whole dinner casting you longing glances that went unseen, exhaling sighs that hadn’t gone unheard. He managed to hold a half-conversation with Harry and he stuffed down the rest of his mashed potatoes that have since gone cold. Perhaps most noticeable to everyone was his lack of excitement for dessert considering it had been his absolute favorite. Instead he had a small sliver of the cake before excusing himself, setting his dirty dishes in the sink and sauntering off up the stairs wordlessly.

You followed after him to his old room after you’d had enough, hot on his tail as your fists clenched at your sides. “What is your problem?”

He turned around, brows knit together as he looked down at you quizzically. A bitter laugh left his lips at the question, and he pretended as if he didn’t have a clue as to what you were talking about. “I don’t believe I have one.”

“Oh really?” you begin, squinting up at him in disbelief. “This is the most you’ve said to me since we’ve gotten here, Ron. So I’m going to ask you again, what’s your problem?”

You were rapidly growing impatient at the fact that he’d been very obviously skirting around the question, more so at his lack of communication the entire week, fluffing the pillows and smoothing the blankets on his bed to distract himself from giving you an answer.

However, you didn’t miss the way his chest was beginning to rise and fall at a quicker pace than before as his jaw tenses. He finally turned to look at you directly as you stood there with an expectant look on your face. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask George?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words, head tilted as you squint up at him. “What?”

“Forget it,” he grumbles, shaking his head. He pushed in the chair seated at his desk, rearranging a few misplaced things that lay atop it.

“No, tell me again.”

He stands before you, clearly getting worked up the more time that had passed.

“Alright. I said, why don’t you go ask George? You’ve only spent every waking moment with him since we got off the bloody train!” He said, raising his voice at you as a pale scarlet began to flood his cheeks and burn down his neck.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You scoff, taking a step closer to him. You cross your arms over your chest, quickly unraveling them moments later as you fidget angrily.

“You don’t have to pretend, Y/n. Why don’t you just bring your stuff to his room instead?”

His tone was taunting now, immaturity weaving around his words the more he spoke his mind. It was beginning to remind you of the time he’d acted the very same way when you had gone to Hogsmeade with Cormac McLaggen. He hadn’t spoken to you for three days until he had finally gotten over it, claiming he was simply stressed over an upcoming quidditch match and nothing more. There was always something more.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you counter. You watched the color continue to stain his freckled cheeks the angrier he got. Then realization hit you in that very moment. “Ron, are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” He repeats, trying his best to sound as if he were utterly surprised and not at all knowledgeable of your accusation. Trying to act as if you’d just said the most absurd thing in the world. “I’m not jealous.”

He wholeheartedly was, that much was clear. Though he wasn’t about to let you know that. It lanced through him every time he saw you, every time you laughed at his brothers jokes, every time you chose to spend time with his brother over him. He loathed the feeling that settled deep within his chest and simmered there; he knew it was irrational and he knew he had been unfair the past week. He loved his brother, he loved his whole family deeply, but he couldn’t help but to feel as though he came in last place in more ways than one. He felt he had a lot to live up to being the youngest brother, and he was sure he wasn’t quite doing that. He always had to share everything, and there was one thing he wanted to himself. He wanted to be selfish and have it all to himself. And that one thing was you.

You could feel your cheeks flush a burning red at his ridiculous behavior, heart beginning to race and pound against your chest in frustration. “Yes you are! You’ve been ignoring me for the past week, Ron. He is my friend. Much like you even though you haven’t been acting like it.”

He didn’t want to be your friend, he wanted to be more than that. He wanted to cross his room and kiss you, not argue over his own jealousy.

He rolls his eyes and digs himself deeper instead, crossing his arms to mimic your stance. “Yeah, right, it won’t be long until you two are snogging. Maybe Aria will throw you the bloody bouquet next week.”

“Can you shut up for once in your life?”

You grit out the words as you attempt to conceal the falter in your voice from trying to suppress your tears, hastily grabbing your bag from the floor and slinging it over your shoulder. Your eyes stung by now as you turned to look at him briefly with your hardest stare, promptly spinning on your heel to walk out.

“Where are you going?” He asks, brows furrowed and his arms drop down to his sides.

“Anywhere to get away from you.”

“Fine.”

You rushed down the winding wooden staircase with a heavy ache in your heart, and in that moment you wished there hadn’t been so many floors because you desperately wanted to leave. As much distance from him as possible would be nice. The tears began to spill over your flushed cheeks, wiping them away with the back of your hand as your other held the strap that rested on your shoulder.

“Why the long face, Y/n/n?” Fred asked with a pout as you hurriedly passed by the living room.

“Your brother is an idiot,” you sniffle, though your tone was still angry as you brushed by him to get outside.

It was dark out now, the night breeze that swept over you giving you chills. You continued to walk towards the field surrounding the cozy home, nothing but anger in your stride and a headache forming from trying to keep your tears at bay. Despite that you kept on walking as they spilled freely down your cheeks now that you’d been alone, only stopping when you reached the familiar clearing. It wasn’t too far from the Burrow, but far enough to be left alone for a little while. Far enough from Ron and his absurd jealousy.

You sat down on the slightly overgrown grass, hugging your bag to your chest as you let your frustrated tears fall quietly one after another. The stars glimmered above you in the navy expanse, unable to be truly appreciated in your state of mind and the moon provided just enough light for you to not be quite so fearful to be alone out there at night. Frustration barely explained how you felt, how could he be so oblivious?

George was one of your closest friends, all of the Weasley’s were for that matter. You had grown up around the delightful family just a few years short of your whole life, so quite honestly his behavior was something unjust. It wasn’t unlike him to be distant, to let things bottle up and build before he bursts. But his words cut through you and you wondered just how long he’d been keeping it in.

Regardless, you continued to sniffle and wallow to yourself, the cuffs of your shirt now dampened by your tears. Being in love was a wonderful thing, but it was also something that could hurt you all the same. You felt ridiculous, really, to have pined for the same ginger boy since you were fifteen. It had been eight years of backing out of confessions, of being on the brink of kissing him. Eight years of taking turns being jealous but unaware of the other.

It was a viscous cycle that seemed to do more harm than good sometimes, but you suppose it could’ve been your own fault for keeping your feelings a secret. You didn’t know he broke up with Lavender because he’d missed you so much. All you knew was that seeing him with somebody else hurt. He hadn’t known you turned down Cormac’s several dates in favor of spending your free time with him instead. He just knew there was talk of the two of you, and the thought of pressing further for more information made him nauseous. You were so blind to one another it was starting to take its toll.

In his teen years not long ago, he would have kept his distance out of sheer stubbornness. He would have brooded to himself and sulked about until he was over it, but now he just felt ridiculous. He was twenty-three years old still acting like he was thirteen, and the regret pooled in his chest the moment the words left his mouth. The truth was, he couldn’t bear being apart from you for too long, especially when your absence hadn’t been on good terms. He could swallow his pride if it meant you wouldn’t leave.

You didn’t know how long you’d been out there, but it certainly felt like a considerable amount of time. You’d unknowingly sulked to yourself for the last two hours, the initial anger long gone. The lights of the first floor had since been turned off, mismatched windows beginning to lose their glow as well as your eyes raked up the home. All but the very top floor.

Your time alone was cut short at the familiar footfalls sounding behind you. You close your eyes and release an exasperated sigh. “Y/n?”

“Have you come to yell at me again?” You huff, standing to your feet and turning around. The urge to cry had immediately come back upon seeing him but you simply stared at him.

He stilled in front of you, brows furrowed as he swallowed thickly. His eyes bounced from the bag clutched tightly in your shaky hand, so much so your knuckles were an ivory white. Then they landed on your face, at the tears rimming your eyes and wetting your flushed cheeks. At your rosy nose and miserable frown on your lips. Your lip quivered in a mix of anger and tears you fought to suppress now that he stood before you again.

“No,” he said, much softer this time as he looks at the ground momentarily before coming up with a defense. “To be fair you yelled at me too.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in an unamused glare and purse your lips, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why exactly did you follow me out here then?”

He shrugged timidly, stuffing his hands in his pockets briefly before taking them back out again nervously. He was too flustered to lie. “Because you never go out at night by yourself.”

He remembered, of course he did. No matter how irrational, no matter how mad he may have been. But that wasn’t important, it shouldn’t have been because you were angry at him over the fact that he thought you were so madly in love with his brother. You were angry that he had been so blind to the fact that you were madly in love with him. You felt as though it couldn’t have been anymore obvious, but you suppose you were wrong.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you stared up at him with a softer gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. “Well, I’m fine. You can go inside now.”

With a few moments of a lingering stare, you turned away from him, unable to withstand the tension any longer but he hadn’t left you just yet. Instead, he stayed put, staring after you wordlessly as you took a few more steps away from him. His heart had been bounding mercilessly in his chest as if he’d just run halfway across the world to see you, his words on the very tip of his tongue.

“Don’t,” he said abruptly, cheeks flushing at the unintentional raise in his voice. You stand still then, your back to him as you wait. He gulped as he fought desperately to articulate his words in a way that didn’t make him look any more foolish before you could take another step away from him. “Don’t leave.”

You turn back around, clutching the strap resting on your shoulder as you look up at him. His mouth must have opened and closed at least a dozen times, looking like a fish out of water until eventually he gave up entirely as he met your gaze.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” you say softly, and his cheeks are quick to burn the scarlet red shade of embarrassment at his words. He simply nods in acceptance, though, looking away from you.

A silence settles over you, save for the crickets chirping and the occasional breeze sweeping through the warm summer air. It was tense and inescapable, neither one of you knowing just what to say or how to say it, though it was very clear that something was on both your minds. More than what had just transpired not long ago.

“I think I’m going to head to bed now. It’s late,” you finally say, brushing past him and back towards the misshapen home that stood tall in front of you. The tension was almost suffocating and you had to leave before it had gotten any worse.

“Y/n wait,” he calls out, hesitant as his hand reaches out for you, dropping back to his side as quickly as he held it out when he saw you’d been too far to grab onto.

You turn your head and look over your shoulder, the look on his face causing you to turn around fully. Your brow raises in curiosity though you stay quiet. A sigh leaves his lips in frustration with himself. The words were on the very tip of his tongue, just waiting to be spoken as they had been for quite a while. The reason for his behavior was right there.

“Goodnight.” It’s all he says, finding it impossible to speak his mind when you look at him like that.

You nod, glancing up at him with a half smile. “Night, Ron.”

—

A week had gone by since your argument, and things had been considerably less awkward between the two of you, though it was still very much there. Ron had stopped avoiding you, he stopped speaking to you in one word answers in favor of your usual banter. And he stopped his sulking and brooding, for the most part.

Hermione had arrived and has stolen you away once more but he expected as much, though you did notice him focus his gaze on you on more than one occasion. It left you jittery, as if you were in fourth year again and he’d just asked you to the Yule Ball. Hermione insisted that you admit your feelings, not without a friendly but firm threat that she’d tell him for you. You promised you would in time, just not yet. You weren’t exactly jumping at the opportunity to put your heart out on the line.

Ron had almost told you he loved you three times over that week, but he kept it to just an apology no matter how tempting it was to spill his most vulnerable feelings once and for all. He spent so long holding the words on the very tip of his tongue that he just wanted to say them a million times over.

He wanted to tell you when he watched you and Hermione help his mother with dinner. You looked like sunshine as you laughed in the cluttered kitchen joyously, too focused on conversation to notice him gawking. He wanted to swipe the flour off your cheek and press his lips to yours in a kiss, tell you just how much he adored you and all that you do.

He wanted to tell you when you helped him wash his dads car. You’d been teasing him about the infamous scratch that just couldn’t be repaired by Ron’s encounter with the Whomping Willow, the brightest smile on your face. He found you could pick on him all you wanted and he wouldn’t mind, even when you sprayed him with the garden hose. He was too distracted by the way your hair glimmered and sparkled in the afternoon sun to care about much else.

He wanted to tell you when you’d helped him set up the tent for the wedding the night before the ceremony. You found yourselves laying side by side on the ground, staring up at the striped ceiling of the enchanted structure in awe. You’d caught him staring and he looked away immediately, smiling to himself as his hand brushed against yours. Conversation had long since been quieted at that point, your presence alone being enough to keep him happy no matter what. He wanted to tell you of his all consuming love without pause.

Now, you were shuffling around his room in a hurried panic, time ticking by relentlessly as you search for the matching earring that was supposed to be adorning your right ear, but it had been nowhere to be seen. A frustrated sigh leaves your lips as you root through your bag for the third time now, dumping its contents out completely in hopes for a better outcome. The commotion filtering in from outside certainly hadn’t helped flustered state.

“Do you really need to wear those earrings? I’m sure Ginny’s got some you could use, or maybe even Mione,” Ron reasons with a shrug as he tries to ease your frustration.

“Yes, Ron. These go with my dress, I need to find it,” you insist, frowning when your triple check yielded the same result. It was just your luck to have lost a key part to your attire only moments before an important event. You were beginning to think you hadn’t packed the complete set at all.

He shakes his head with a soft laugh at the way you’d been acting, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watches you flitter around in a huff. He felt you didn’t even need the earrings, it wouldn’t have taken away from your radiance, nothing could. You looked absolutely beautiful in your dress, and he tried not to dwell on the fact that it’d matched his suit. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but he couldn’t help the feeling blooming in his chest.

Your groaning had pulled him from his lovestruck thoughts, your hand running through your hair. There were so many places the delicate piece of jewelry could’ve gotten lost in, and you were beginning to think you should give up entirely.

“This is unbelievable,” you grumble, taking a moment to think it over and retrace your steps. “I’m positive I brought both, I even double checked with you!”

He nods, going along with your words. “Y-Yeah. I’m quite sure you did,” he assures, scratching the back of his neck.

You rolled your eyes at his nonchalance, pursing your lips at him as you huff through your nose.

“Ron, it would be better for the both of us if you stop standing there and help me,” you say matter-of-factly, looking hopelessly in the drawers of his desk. When you look over your shoulder at him, it’s as if he hadn’t heard a single word you’d just spoken to him, his eyes fixed on you with a soft smile on his lips. “What?”

You turn around fully, raising a brow expectantly as you wait for his explanation of just why he’d been looking at you like that. He looked away momentarily, shifting his gaze to peer out of the window and collect himself before looking back at you, biting the inside of his cheek to fight his widening smile. “Nothing.”

You hadn’t bought his response, not even for a second, and he knew that. He wasn’t exactly being discreet by now, he’d stopped trying to do so a while ago. Partly because he knew you’d be too oblivious to put the pieces together, and partly because he was too smitten to mask it. It was rather tiring; to love someone for nearly a decade without certainty of it being reciprocated was taunting. Yet he didn’t have it in him to move on to someone else, because the truth was, no one in his lifetime could hold a candle to you.

“Could you please help me?” You ask again in a much less irritable tone this time. You spun on your heel quickly, hoping to mask the very obvious fact that a million butterflies had been set loose in your stomach, smiling softly as you scrambled to remember just what it was you had been looking for. With your back turned, you missed the way he stood there with hesitancy, the way you could practically see the gears turning in his head if you’d been looking at him. But he was grateful you couldn’t see it.

He’d spent the past week thinking of a hundred different ways to tell you this, all of them sounding hopelessly romantic in his head. It hadn’t gotten better with each day that passed either, switching between doubt and wanting to grab your face and kiss you. It became a looping cycle within those seven days, taunting him until he just couldn’t suppress it a moment longer. He refused. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now.”

The words tumbled from his lips and he almost winced with how utterly direct it was, spilling out with much less grace and eloquence than he’d planned. There was no way you wouldn’t understand what he meant after that.

Your distracted actions stilled at his quiet words, turning your head as your mouth hung slightly agape. A soft crimson stains your cheeks as you become aware of just how fondly he’s staring at you now, and you have the pressing urge to look away from it’s sheer loving intensity, but you don’t. However, you did drop the hairbrush in your hand, the sound deafening as it clattered loudly to the floor in the otherwise quiet room. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a timid smile as he laughs nervously, the tips of his ears burning while he fumbles with the hem of his vest.

You hadn’t been entirely sure you’d heard him correctly, but you were too stunned and too caught up hoping you had been to ask for any clarification. A part of you was tempted to pinch yourself to see if you’d been dreaming, but you were quite sure you weren’t. Even though a few fleeting moments had passed, the seconds felt like hours to him and you knew you couldn’t stare forever.

A rush of confidence had coursed through you in that moment because he hadn’t appeared to be joking, a smile pulling at your lips. “Well go on then.”

His breath caught in his throat at your words, his heart nearly beating right out of his chest. So much so that he found it impossible for you to not hear it’s rhythmic pounding. Though he quickly breaks out of his daze, his hand enveloping yours as he tugs you closer. His lips press to yours with the force of a thousand kisses, his fingers quick to tangle in your hair as your hands settle on his cheeks. Years worth of longing had seemed to seep into every brush of his lips, in the very way he’d been holding you as if you’d slip right through his fingers. And every time the warmth of his breath swept over you, it sent a bout of shivers rushing over your skin and leaving you completely enchanted.

You couldn’t help the smile forming, a soft laugh leaving your mouth as your nose brushes against his lips lightly. The pause in your kiss hadn’t lasted more than a few seconds as he found himself completely drawn to you. The desire to skip the reception altogether in favor of staying right there with you had lanced through him, the thought all too enticing but he knew he’d never hear the end of it.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he lets out an airy laugh, breathless and in awe. The quizzical look on your face is prompting enough for him to speak his mind. “I love you.”

The words were soft and they were true, mumbled without second thought in the close proximity. It had only taken him two years short of a decade to do so. His eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your quiet laughter on his lips, a sigh escaping him.

“I tell the girl I love my true feelings and she laughs at me. How wonderful,” he grumbles in faux offense, breaking away from you to shake his head as he looks to his right.

Your fingers brush over his jaw and turn him back to you immediately, leaning on your toes and kissing him once more. One that turned from a simple peck to a languid kiss that he found it next to impossible to break from. He hadn’t wanted to either. Your laughter has since disappeared, silenced against his lips as the certainty of his words truly began to sink in.

“I love you,” you whisper, and the smile on his face is immediate. His forehead rests on yours as his nose scrunches, his hair tickling your skin and a hum escaping him.

His hand squeezed your own gently, his lips continuing to ghost over yours in the softest of kisses. He had a lifetime to kiss you now, he had every day to come to do so, but he also had this current moment and he felt there was nothing more he wanted to do. It was apparent he was in a daze of requited love, it was obvious by the very way he looked at you as if you’d been the one person making the world go round.

You return his thoughtful look, something akin to mischief dancing in your eyes and he knew he was in for something. “Ron?”

He hums in response, his lips pressing to your cheek in hopes to distract you from the inevitable. His attempts were valiant but not enough to cloud your mind.

“So you were jealous?”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he drops his head to your shoulder, desperate to hide the noticeable scarlet invading his freckled cheeks. A groan leaves his lips and vibrates against your skin, he knew you would bring it up. He also knew this wouldn’t be the last time you would either. His soft laughter answers your question, his arms tightening their hold around you.

“You’ll never let this go, will you?”

You respond with a shake of your head, brushing strands of red hair from his eyes before wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. His smile is adoring as he tucks his face in your neck once more. He’s got you now, he’s unknowingly had you all along but his blunders didn’t seem to matter in that moment. Nothing did except for you.

His grin turned to that of a mischievous smirk, tugging on the corner of his lips as he stifled his laugh.

“What is it?” You ask, brow raised as you push back and your hands rest on his chest.

After a moment he held up his free hand between the two of you, the glimmering silver of your missing earring dangling between his finger tips. Your eyes widen a fraction as you gasp, his laughter unable to be contained much longer as you swat his arm.

“How long have you had that, Ron Weasley?”

He simply shrugs as a blush coats his cheeks and you snatch the earring from his hand with a playful frown, slipping it in your ear with ease.

“To be fair, I needed some time to work up the nerve to kiss you,” he reasons, your frown fading as you roll your eyes.

An eruption of boisterous cheers sounding several floors below had been reminder enough of the plans you were currently absent for. Surely they must have been waiting on the two of you. “Now look what you’ve gotten us into. We’re officially late.”

His gaze gave way to just how enamored he’d been by you, his lips meeting yours once more in hopes to hold him over until he could kiss you again. He knew that effort would be futile. He doesn’t even know how he’d made it this long without doing so a thousand times over.

“I’m sure they won’t miss us for five more minutes.”

You look up at him momentarily, your squeal ringing out as he nearly swept you off your feet. Your words are whispered against his lips as he brushes the hair from your face.

“Five more minutes.”

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @loony-loopy-lupinn @theweasleysredhair @lupinsclassroom @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

#twrh9kwritingchallenge #ron weasley #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley angst #ron weasley fic #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley headcanon

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clocks-are-round · 4 years ago

Text

Pride Month PSA

Disclaimer: the PSAs are known for their lack of tact, misinformation, and ridiculous bad advice. Unfortunately, I was unable to wholeheartedly and fully mimic their style due to there already being so much misinformation out there about the queer community and also I really like informing people who are curious about queer topics. So it’s an RvB PSA that’s actually fairly informative, with only a tiny amount of bad advice sprinkled in. With that in mind, enjoy!

----

Donut: I’m Franklin Delano Donut from popular webseries Red vs Blue.

Kai: And I’m Kaikaina Grif! Oh, and yeah, I’m from the thing too.

Donut: Today we’re talking about Pride month! Also known in some circles as ‘June’.

Kai: As the resident loud n proud bi gal, I was asked to host this PSA!

Donut: I was also asked, for some reason.

Kai: Aren’t you gay though?

Donut: I mean, I am, but I didn’t realize I ever told you guys!

*camera pans over to Grif, at a distance*

Grif: Really?

Kai: Oh, shut up, Dex. You and Simmons were supposed to present this.

Simmons: *shouts from offscreen* I’m not gonna talk about gay stuff!

Grif: *shouts walking offscreen* For fuck’s sake! We’re married, you dumbass!

*camera is back to Donut and Kai*

Kai: Where were we? Right! Pride!

Donut: Pride month is a month where queer people, also known as lgbt-and a bunch of other letters, remind the world that we exist and celebrate it with lots of rainbows and flags!

Kai: There’s even a bitchin parade! It’s fuckin great!

Donut: Doc here says he’s also part of the queer community!

*pans out to include Doc in frame*

Doc: Yep, I’m aromantic and asexual.

Donut: I’m a romantic too, Doc! And I know Kai here is a self-proclaimed sexual.

Kai: Hell yes I am!

Doc: No, aromantic and asexual. Both are one word. It means I don’t experience romantic or sexual attraction. To anyone.

Kai: *to viewer* If you don’t understand someone’s identity, it’s extremely validating to ask loads of personal questions about it! I once spent an hour explaining the similarities and differences between sex with men and women to someone in super intimate detail! It was great!

Donut: *to Doc* I mean it kinda sounds like maybe you haven’t found the right person yet. I know my Prince Charming is out there somewhere!

Kai: Which is ridiculous, there’s like LOADS of hotties in the universe. I thought you were banging the pink one.

Donut: Wh-

Doc: Look, us aroaces have flags and everything. I’m not the only one. And I’m as sure about my identity as you two are about yours. There’s nothing more for me to say, really.

Kai: But like- have you TRIED sex?

Doc: *irritated* Screw you guys, I’m gonna go eat some cake.

Donut: Oh, I love eating cake! I’ll let you eat mine if I can try some of yours! I hope you can handle it though; it’s pretty thick!

Doc: *clearly just DONE* …yeah, I’m gonna go.

*next scene*

Kai: Here we have a cishet.

Tucker: The fuck did you just call me?

Donut: Cishets can be hostile when you call them what they are, especially if they don’t know what it means.

Tucker: Seriously, what does that mean. Is it an insult? Wait, does it mean I’m hot and single, because if so *to viewer* I am super cishet, ladies!

Kai: Cishet is short for cisgender heterosexual. Basically, a not queer person.

Tucker: Oh. Yeah, I’m that too.

Donut: When a cishet is supportive of queer people, we call that being an ally!

Tucker: I’m also that. Man, I should put all these on my resume. Or at least my dating profile. I already put a few things on there but I don’t know if it’s attracting the right people.

Kai: Lemme look— You’re heteroflexible?

Tucker: Yeah- That does mean I’m straight and good at sex, right?

Kai: Noo

Tucker: Man, is that why guys keep DMing me?

Donut: Yeah, you should probably change that. And maybe clear things up with Wash. He thinks you’re dating.

Tucker: What? *mild panic* I thought he was jok--

*next scene. Kai and Donut are with Sarge*

Donut: You might have someone in your life who’s “in the closet”. This means they’re queer but haven’t told people.

Kai: Sometimes they might not even realize it themself because they’ve been in denial for so long. Like, really long.

*dead silence for like three seconds*

Sarge: What’s this about now?

Donut: Sarge, is there something you’d like to tell us?

Sarge: Well, now that you mention it, I’m not too thrilled about the rainbow glitter all over red base. You could’ve at least mixed in some extra red! Then those dirty blue specks would be outnumbered a thousand to one! Heheh. *clears throat* Old habits.

Kai: No, like, Donut’s gay, I’m bi… What’re you? Pan, bi?

Sarge: What are these, some new sort of internet lingo? You kids can keep your code words. I’ll just stick to being Sarge.

Kai: *to viewer* Sometimes old people have different words to describe themselves and don’t use the same words everyone else does even though it would be WAY easier for us to understand if they did. Like, I met this sexy older lady once, and she called herself transsexual but like nowadays people usually say transgender.

Donut: But really, whether someone identifies as a pink or lightish red, what’s most important is that the person they’re talking to knows what they mean.

*next scene*

Donut: While gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transfolk are the most well-known groups, there are plenty of others who are less visible.

Locus: *appears* For example--

*Kai and Donut scream simultaneously*

*a beat of silence*

Locus: For example, non-binary trans people, polyamorous people, and people under the aromantic and asexual umbrellas.

Donut: What do you identify as, Locus?

Locus: ...I said my line. *disappears again*

Kai: You can mysteriously appear in my bedroom anytime!

Donut: Some people prefer not to put labels on themselves at all, and that’s ok too! But what’s important is if they do identify as something, whatever it is, you make sure to respect it.

Kai: Unless they say they’re MAPs. They’re not part of the queer community. Never have been, never will be, Y’ALL ARE FREAKS, YOU HEAR ME?!

Donut: At the end of the day, *camera begins panning out* we may be a minority, but there’s more of us than you think.

*camera stops panning out now that all the reds and blues are visible, each holding different pride flags*

Donut: And we’re not going anywhere.

everyone: Happy Pride!

Caboose: Happy birthday! Wait, no, we have to do it again you guys did it wrong.

*end*

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#red vs blue #rvb #//*the tinkling of champagne glasses*#//resident loud n proud bi gal #rvb fake psa #rvb fanfic

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