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astroloverblog · 1 year

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astrology observations part. 3

💫 HIGHLIGHTS: Pisces Moon, Lilith in 3rd/4th/5th/7th/10th/11th, Capricorn Moon/Rising, Mars in Aries/Taurus/Scorpio, Venus Opposite Moon, Pluto Sextile Asc, Gemini/Libra/Leo Rising, Aries/Aquarius Venus, Saturn in 3rd/12th, Sagittarius & earth signs in big 3‘s, Jupiter in 11th, Fama (408) Conjunct Jupiter, Industria (389) in 2nd, Rahu in Leo & Ketu in Aquarius

Use Rising Sign:

introverts: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces, Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo

extroverts: Aquarius, Libra, Gemini, Leo, Aries

ambiverts (both): Sagittarius

☂️ Scorpio & Sagittarius are a good example for understanding the deeper meaning of life with questions like “Why am i here?” “What is my purpose?” etc. They often question the meaning of life.

☂️ 8th house Gemini always talking about sex but are rather interested in the mental side of the relationships instead of the sexual. Tendency to black-white thinking.

☂️ Mars in Taurus love when you kiss their neck, they have a high sex drive and their possessions are the most important thing for them. Buy them necklaces.

☂️ Lilith in the 3rd house people tend to steal, cheat, lie or fake documents. Always fighting with their siblings.

☂️ Venus Opposition Moon have complicating relationships, more the type for one night stands. Its hard to cooperate with them because their needs are quite the opposite of what they feel. You have high expectations of your partner. Maybe try loving yourself first before loving others.

☂️ Gemini Risings fall for anyone who‘s funny, they need partners that are charismatic and relatable. They smile a lot when their lover is around. Their first thought in the morning is usually; „Where is my phone?“

☂️ Lilith in the fourth house have a challenging relationship with the family or mother, might be someone with toxic roots.

☂️Taurus 5th house ppl love collectables like funko pop figures, trading cards or even collecting video game consoles.

☂️ Moon in Pisces can easily isolate themselves from others when they feel the need to. They have a strong passion for singing, dancing, comedy, art or any other talent. Interested in deep & meaningful conversations.

☂️ Mars in Aries loveeee dominating in relationships (especially in bed🤌) They love dramatically and if you mess with them you’ll always get it back. They always fight back. Might have a uncommon taste in music, food, fashion, etc.

☂️ Lilith in the 5th house have selfish pleasures, might struggle with addictions or a hurt inner child.

☂️ Lilith in the 7th house have difficulties with relationships, might be manipulative, could attract toxic partners and enemies.

☂️ Capricorn Risings come off mature & when they get compliments they might compliment back. Normally very popular especially in high school, they smile a lot. Like to take many pics of themselves.

☂️ Lilith in the 10th have compromises at work and a complicated public image. They can be harsh towards their co-workers.

☂️ Pluto Sextile Ascendant like to be with ppl one-on-one instead of being in a group full of people. Might be explorative of the taboo areas of sexuality, especially domination, whips, leather, etc. (Fifty shades of grey, that‘s all i‘m saying🤭)

☂️ Capricorn Moon are the ones annoying everyone and at the same time feel annoyed by everyone. (If that makes sense lol) Its giving ENTJ personality type. They never know how they feel, their mood can go up and down. Hate when people talk behind their back, feels like everyone betrays them.

☂️ Lilith in the 11th you might have obsessions about the future, your friend group can have a bad influence on you.

☂️ Libra Risings struggle the most deciding what to wear, they always say smth like “I have nothing to wear” when their closet is a whole mall shop of clothing. They can easily get offended by others opinions since they’re sensitive & can’t handle criticism very well. They love following fashion trends.

☂️ MC in a fire sign gives leadership abilities and big chances of huge success in their career. They need a job that motivates them and usually know exactly what kind of job they want.

☂️ Mars in Scorpio are somehow really into playing the drums. Females with this placement could be „tomboy“ like, since this Mars is more masculine.

☂️ Is there a specific reason that especially people with earth signs in their big 3 are interested in fantasy fiction including; harry potter, lord of rings, star wars and so on?

☂️ Saturn in the 3rd are normally the type who hates small talk, has a small social circle & usually avoids going to parties. Might also prefer texting instead phone calls or facetime.

☂️ Venus in Aries love jewellery especially earrings or rings in general. Buy them any jewellery as long as it suits their skin tone.

☂️ Rahu in Leo & Ketu in Aquarius start listening to your heart instead of your head. Avoid being emotional detached and let go of the habit having to „fit in“.

☂️ Venus in Aquarius may appear shy at first, but deep down they are extroverted. They fall for intelligent, unique and independent lovers. They might not show that they care, but deep down they do. They seek pleasure in business or technology.

☂️ Venus/Mars in Scorpio its important for you to understand your deeper emotions and know what you want. You are charismatic and fall for emotional intelligence & for dynamic and powerful partners.

☂️ Fama (408) Conjunct Jupiter is such a important indicator for getting famous one day, even in persona charts. Having this placement in of your persona charts (check your dom planets & their persona charts) can be so important too.

☂️ Venus in Aries (again) are impulsive at love, the relationship gotta be exciting or they‘ll loose interest/feelings quick. Give them a reason to stay with you, winning their heart over is not easy at all. Check on them 24/7 or else you make them feel unworthy or unloved.

☂️ Leo Risings are such people pleasers (at times) but they are always attracted to popular people or ppl that are unique, really open and playful.

☂️ Industria (389) in the 2nd house can make it look so easy to make money, even when they get fired and loose their job, they still find a way making money. Although they never run out of money, ever.

☂️ The 12th house can show what you lack the most. For ex. Taurus in the 12th: lack of trust, security, stability. Cancer in the 12th: lack of kindness, empathy, a home, emotions. Saturn in the 12th has a tendency to self harm.

☂️ Sagittarius in the big 3‘s or having Sagittarius 9°, 21° degrees makes someone have the best. humor. ever. Showing comedy tv shows or anything associated with comedy is their absolute favourite thing to do. guys I‘ll recommend minions on this one.

☂️ Saturn in the 12th house individuals biggest fear might be dying alone. They often feel guilty and might be artistic or at least have writing skills. They could have wanted to kill themselves before or even tried doing it.

☂️ Jupiter in the 11th house if Jupiter is weak, the natives tend to overeat and overdrink & can easily get addicted to alcohol. If Jupiter is well aspected, they are blessed with good-looking partners and a happy marriage.

sorry it took me so long to make this post, I’m so proud of you guys we almost made it to 600 followers! :P

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 26 days

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Have you by chance seen if Grim got a new bow in the JP event? I’d hope it looks better than the event sprites haha…

Yup, Grim does, in fact, get a slick new look for this event! I made a post commenting on it (which you can see here!).

Looking at the 2D models for the event characters though… They aren’t bad, but definitely not my style. I feel like the individual elements can look good, but it’s a bit much when out all together…

Not sure if I’m a fan of Jamil’s super baggy pants or Azul’s wide sleeves; I would have liked them tailored more. Azul’s sleeves would be fine if not for the current position in the pose; I believe they are supposed to “open” due to the generous slit in it, similar to the Pomefiore dorm uniform sleeves. As it’s depicted here, it’s stiff.

Ace looks the least odd to me of the group overall, but I do like Jamil’s hair, jacket, and makeup in the 2D model (it’s Too Much for me in the card initial art, probably bc the pose places his braid in the middle of his face and looks a little out of place). Azul really got the short end of the stick… His hair lost a lot of volume which saddens me :(( I like his usual floofier hair… Jamil and Azul’s coats also look a little heavy because of how the gems are concentrated on their lapels, not sure how comfy that would be to walk around in.

I appreciate Vil’s look for what it is (he is the concept of gender itself), but I don’t really care for the low cut top or the gloves…? (I noticed several people pointing out how they look like the Thanos gloves which makes me giggle 😂) The hair and coat itself are fine, but again I find the makeup to be too heavy.

Again, don’t hate the them but don’t love’m either. There was definitely a lot of thought put into these looks from the devs, it just appeals to a certain crowd that doesn’t include me. Maybe I don’t get high fashion www but really, I think it’s just the 2D models making the outfits unflattering?? They look a lot better in all the fan art I’ve seen, so maybe the real problem is that the construction of them appears stiff and immobile in the game specifically.

What I will say, however, is that the chibi animations are very cute! I love seeing Vil strut around… and it’s sort of funny seeing Ace and Jamil fight with makeup and perfume.

kabejdbskwj They look like those department store salespeople who hound you to sample whatever it is they’re selling… (Azul’s freebie card is time gated right now so we don’t have his yet, but that vibe totally suits him, doesn’t it???)

#twisted wonderland #twst #Vil Schoenheit #Azul Ashengrotto #Jamil Viper #Ace Trappola #Grim #jp spoilers #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #Thanos

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wingedblooms · 12 days

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Elain Archeron, member of The Tortured Poets Department

i’m hearing voices like a madman - so high school

i’m seeing visions / am I bad or mad or wise? - guilty as sin?

you can mark my words that I said it first / in a mourning warning, no one heard - cassandra

and for a fortnight there, we were forever - fortnight

leaving me bereft and reeling / my beloved ghost and me / sitting in a tree / d-y-i-n-g - how did it end?

i saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist - so long, london

i cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art - i can do it with a broken heart

but my bare hands paved their paths / you don't get to tell me about "sad" - who’s afraid of little old me?

so I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street / crash the party like a record scratch as I scream / "who's afraid of little old me?" / you should be - who’s afraid of little old me?

i hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind - i hate it here

one slip and fallin' back into the hedge maze […] i keep recalling things we never did - guilty as sin?

these fatal fantasies / giving way to labored breath, takin' all of me / we’ve already done it in my head / if it's make-believe / why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow? - guilty as sin?

wise men once said / "one bad seed kills the garden" / "one less temptress, one less dagger to sharpen" / locked me up in towers / but I'd visit in your dreams / and they tried to warn you about me - the albatross

a rose by any other name is a scandal / cautions issued, he stood - the albatross

i spied the catch in your breath - i look in people’s windows

what if I roll the stone away? / they’re gonna crucify me anyway / what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy? - guilty as sin?

"stay away from her" / the saboteurs protested too much - but daddy i love him

crashin' into him tonight, he's a paradox - guilty as sin?

it’s happenin' again / how did it end? / i can't pretend like I understand - how did it end?

this cage was once just fine / am I allowed to cry? / i dream of crackin' locks - guilty as sin?

thought I caught lightning in a bottle / oh, but it's gone again […] please / i’ve been on my knees / change the prophecy / don't want money / just someone who wants my company / let it once be me - the prophecy

cards on thе table / mine play out like fools in a fablе […] poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand / oh, still I dream of him - the prophecy

lilac short skirt, the one that fits me like skin […] and I'll tell you one thing, honey / i can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean - imgonnagetyouback

i, i hear thе whispers in your eyes / i’ll make you wanna think twice / you'll find that you were never not mine / (you’re mine) - imgonnagetyouback

'cause the sign on your heart / said it's still reserved for me / honestly, who are we to fight thе alchemy? - the alchemy

i'll tell you something right now / i’d rather burn my whole life down […] i'll tell you something 'bout my good name / it’s mine alone to disgrace / i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing - but daddy i love him

if long-suffering propriety is what they want from me / they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly / i choose you and me religiously - guilty as sin?

#elain archeron #member of the tortured poets department #elriel #ttpd lyrics #elain 🤝 taylor swift #the tortured poets department

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heliads · 7 months

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Hey! I love your writing sm

could you pls do an f1 soulmate au with charles x carlos?

maybe whatever a person writes on themselves shows up on their soulmate so they write each other cute 'good luck' notes or jokes before races and maybe they realize they're soulmates when one of them gets a podium and the other person sees their drawings :)

i understand that you wanted this to be cute. however have you considered that they could be insane instead. have you considered that there could be mind games, bestie. think about the mental warfare (i am)

masterlist

Carlos Sainz believes that his secrets come out the fastest when he’s drinking. Doesn’t even have to be alcohol, his favorite ruiner of silence– he’s let out contract details and personal opinions just as freely with isotonic water after a race as with a shot someone hands him two hours into a post-race celebration. It’s easy to let your guard down when you think you’re with a friend, when the stakes don’t seem high, when he knows better but doesn’t want to admit it.

That’s why he feels a rippling wave of panic when he sees Charles walking across the Ferrari hospitality, two cups of coffee in his hands. Charles sits down at an empty table for two, places one cup in front of himself and one at the empty chair, and looks pointedly at Carlos. Carlos thinks to himself, this can’t be good, and mentally reminds himself to book an appointment with PR sooner rather than later.

He takes the seat. Some things, you can’t fight. Charles still smiles anyway, pleased, and says, “I got you coffee.”

Carlos had noticed this, surprisingly. It was difficult to ignore. “You’re being nice,” he remarks, blowing into the hole on the lid to cool down the liquid inside.

“I am nice,” Charles protests. His accent comes out more when he’s unhappy, it makes the syllables bunch up together like pleats of fabric.

Carlos arches a brow, and takes a sip of his coffee instead of answering. Scuderia Ferrari loves to claim that they adore the art of coffee just as much as their mother country, but every time Carlos gets coffee from hospitality it’s either flavorless or burnt, depending on who serves it. Charles’ attempt isn’t terrible, but he doubts Charles did anything more to prepare it than just put in an order. It’s a nice gesture, though. Just like Charles said.

When he looks up and the steam properly clears from his vision, Charles is still pouting at him. Carlos shakes his head, smiling to himself. He makes it so easy sometimes, to mess with his head. It’s kind of fun. Poker, but with a far prettier deck of cards.

“Alright, fine,” he relents, grinning so Charles knows he’s in on the joke, “I’m just teasing. No need to get mad, cabrón.”

“I’m not mad,” Charles says, a hint of a smile on his face although he stubbornly tries to shake it, “just interested in defending my honor.”

“Your honor?” Carlos asks, laughing in earnest. “So lord-esque, that is what I have been telling you. Of course Lord Perceval would defend his honor.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “You can deal with my honor, mate. I got you coffee.”

“And I am grateful for it every time you bring it up,” Carlos says, and takes a sip to prove it.

Charles does the same, but his eyes remain on Carlos the whole time. “So? Is it true what they’re saying?”

Carlos wants more than coffee for a conversation that starts out like this. “Who’s saying what?”

Charles gestures vaguely towards his phone. “Everybody. They say you’re going to leave Ferrari when your contract expires.”

Ah. That. “People love rumors,” he says absentmindedly, “I never thought you’d pay attention to them.”

“I don’t usually, but I was interested in this one,” Charles admits. “You’d tell me if you were leaving, right?”

“I’m not leaving,” Carlos says.

Charles sets down his cup. “But you’d tell me, right?”

“I would,” Carlos says. Pauses. Starts again. “What’s gotten into you, man? I never took you for someone to fall for theories like this.”

Charles shakes his head a little too quickly. “I’m not. They just seemed to believe it.”

Carlos shrugs. “They believe a lot. My contract doesn’t expire until next year. They won’t worry about me for a while.”

“Should I?” Charles asks. “Worry about you, I mean.”

Carlos looks at him, really looks at him. The tense grip of his teammate’s hands around his coffee, even despite the heat still emanating through the cup. The furtive glances he keeps sneaking towards Carlos, then abruptly looking at the cup again when he gets caught.

“I’m not going,” Carlos says gently. More gently than he’d answer any interviewer, anyway.

Charles nods quickly, his head bobbing like a doll on a string. “Of course. Besides, I have too much interest for you to leave yet. Not until we figure out your, ah–” A pause. Delicate, but not at all from a polite inclination, no matter how it might seem to any outsider.

Carlos groans, exasperated. “My soulmate? My God, Charles, you have to give this up at some point.”

If it were not enough to have an overly inquisitive teammate, one that’s rather good at using his eyes and smile to get what he wanted, Carlos has been cursed with a racing partner that’s unnaturally interested in his missing other half. Carlos himself wants to figure out who his soulmate is, obviously, but at this point he thinks Charles is even more invested.

They all have soulmates. Supposedly. There’s probably at least a couple people out there who skipped that universal drawing of lots, but Carlos knows for certain that he is not one of them because his soulmate contacts him almost every day. Some people go weeks or even months without finding so much as a scribble appearing out of thin air on their skin, but Carlos blinks and there’s a new sentence on his forearm, bruising his knuckles, curling around his ankle. Whoever his soulmate is, they don’t care much for being ignored.

Neither does his teammate. Charles huffs out an exasperated breath. “If you will not be curious, I will be curious for you. You’re always so cagey about it, anyway. I know they write to you. Don’t you want to know?”

“Of course I want to know who they are,” Carlos scoffs. “What I don’t get is why you want to know. Why don’t you focus on your own other half for a change?”

Charles just leans back in his chair, grinning coolly. Ah, yes. Carlos has suspected for some time that Charles already has an idea as to who his soulmate is, but for some reason Carlos has never seen her around the paddock. It could be that Charles is just keeping their relationship private, but he doubts it. Charles likes his trophies visible and his games extensive. More likely than not, Charles has his soulmate engaged in some kind of cat-and-mouse game so they figure it out without too much help on his end. It’s hellishly manipulative, but he’s charming enough that they all let it slide.

Even Carlos, although he at least tries to put up a fight. Sometimes, he thinks Charles is amusingly aware of that, and doubles down on his efforts to get Carlos to cave until both of them are locked in some sort of affectionate stalemate.

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” Charles hums, pleased that he’s got the other hand. “I mean,” he says, leaning forward abruptly to seize Carlos’ hand in his own, “Don’t you want to know about yours? Aren’t you curious?”

Whoever sat at their table before them left a Sharpie behind by accident; Charles picks it up now, uncapping it with the same hand without letting go of Carlos. “You could just ask them right now, who they are,” Charles muses. The tip of the Sharpie hovers millimeters above the curve of Carlos’ palm, waiting.

Carlos stares at the black ink. It’s easier to focus on the skin when he mumbles, “They wouldn’t answer.”

You’re not supposed to. Unspoken rules. He’s never liked that sort of thing, and neither has Charles, who knows this and smiles unkindly anyway. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Carlos asks, mostly to himself. Charles doesn’t appear to hear him. The Sharpie dips lower until it touches Carlos’ skin. Immediately, the black ink flowers into his palm. Carlos waits for Charles to keep writing, to scrawl a question like who are you or can I fly you to a Grand Prix paddock, asap but instead Charles flinches, slams the palm of his own hand down towards the table, and covers up the pen again.

“Maybe you should do it yourself,” Charles mutters by way of explanation.

“Maybe,” Carlos says. He’s not sure if he’s agreeing or not. It would be easier, he thinks, to have Charles take the wheel again. It would also hurt more. Carlos caps the pen when it becomes obvious that Charles will not. “Drink your coffee,” he says. “It’ll get cold.”

Charles does as told, which is sort of surprising. Usually, he likes pushing the envelope until someone tells him to quit it. It appears to Carlos, though, that they have reached an unspoken limit, a line drawn out in black Sharpie on tanned skin that will not be crossed again.

A few minutes pass. They’re both quiet. Charles whispers into the condensation of his cup, “You’re not leaving, though, right?”

Carlos smiles. “I’m not.” Contracts change, obviously, but he’ll try to fight it. They all try.

They leave not long afterwards, race week means that they don’t have a lot of time to sit around. There’s always something to be filmed for media duties, an interview to conduct, checks to run through with engineers. Still, Carlos is somehow calmer than he was before, even despite the additional caffeine.

Charles, by contrast, seems jumpier than usual as they head towards the exit.

“Did you enjoy your coffee?” Carlos asks pointedly.

Charles glances quickly over both shoulders, then groans when he’s sure that no one can overhear him. “No, God. It’s terrible.”

Carlos chuckles. “But you went to so much trouble to get it. Surely you can pretend it’s more than just terrible. You drank, like, all of it.”

Charles gives him an appraising look. “It’s better with someone else.”

It occurs to Carlos, as he walks back to his driver’s room, that they may not just have been talking about coffee after all. He’s stopped by one of his PR advisors on the way back– apparently there’s a new TikTok trend that would be just great for him to do– and although he doesn’t feel that shaken, he must look it, because they only get halfway through a discussion of trending sounds before the agent asks if everything is alright.

Carlos scoffs. “Of course I’m alright.”

The agent arches a brow. “Are you sure? You look a little unsettled. Don’t tell me you were talking to George about track times again, he has that effect on everyone before qualis.”

Carlos shakes his head. “No, I didn’t see him. I was speaking with Charles, though, about nothing in particular. Just coffee and soulmates and stuff.” Unable to stop himself, he leans a little closer, drops his voice until it’s more of a whisper. “He’s found his soulmate, hasn’t he? She’s got to be around here somewhere.”

His PR agent, surprisingly, shakes their head. “No, he’s said nothing about it to us, and we’ve asked loads of times. Are you certain that they’re a she, though? That wasn’t the impression I got.”

Carlos stands utterly still. He thinks his blood may have cooled in his veins, congealing into a solid. He is not sure he could move if he tried. “Charles told you that?”

“Once,” the agent says offhandedly. “He got sick of us asking about his mystery woman. I don’t think he meant to let it slip, but you know how he is with secrets.”

They’re laughing at that. Carlos tries to chuckle along with him, but he can’t really do more than nod, because now he’s thinking about Charles’ soulmate being a man. It’s the driver in him, he supposes, the dreamer, that if he can imagine any scenario he would also imagine himself in it, and so it follows that now Carlos cannot stop thinking about the man on the other side of Charles’ heart being him, being Carlos. The picture fits a little too well.

Carlos had never pictured his soulmate and thought of a man, but sometimes he’ll be up on the podium with Charles, champagne high and bright in the air, and he thinks maybe– maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing, not having a girl like that. He already knows what it’s like, anyway, to be at the top of the world and have another man standing there with him. If God did not intend for us to be with someone of the same sex, then why would He make it feel so natural?

Carlos somehow manages to end the conversation, to slip back into the relative safety of his driver’s room and lean his entire body weight against the door. He stares up at the ceiling, hands fisting the red fabric of his Ferrari jacket at his sides, and he lets himself, for the first time, wonder if his soulmate might not be a man as well. Anything Charles can do, Carlos can too, or so the commentators have started to say. Anyone Charles could love, Carlos could too. Anything his would be theirs.

It is a risky thought. Pessimists will tell you that soulmates are good for nothing but getting your hopes up. Carlos does not know who his soulmate is nor, odds are, will he ever. It does no good to think about what he wants until he already has it.

Later that day, Carlos tells his soulmate in non-descript block letters, All things must end. He caps the pen and covers his hand for the rest of the day. He sees Charles some hours later, looking pale and frightened. Carlos cannot, will not, imagine why.

He tries to push it from his mind. They are not hiding in Ferrari hospitality for the thrill of it, after all, but to prepare for the race ahead. Qualifying comes and goes, nothing to write home about but at least they should be decently in the points. One of them might be able to make it to a podium if they can give Lando Norris the slip. The best case scenario is that Checo will bin it so they could get a 1-2, but who knows if they’ll have any semblance of luck today.

Carlos qualified one position ahead of Charles. Fred Vasseur is already starting to eye him like a lamb to the slaughter, and Carlos makes a mental reminder to continually ask his engineer for Charles’ times during the race. He has a feeling that team orders might be given.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t make Carlos angry towards Charles as much as he thinks it should. He is irritated by Ferrari, of course, for picking one driver over another, but that’s expected in any given scenario in which the cars are swapped. Usually, though, that sort of thing happens enough times that you start directing your ire towards the other driver, but Carlos cannot manage that. In fact, he never has. Hating Charles is unthinkable. It would be easier to hate himself. Right?

Getting ready in his driver’s room before the race that Sunday, Carlos is struck by a sudden, unthinkable idea. He rummages around in his belongings for a while before coming up with a pen. Dark, thick, the kind you use for autographs when the hapless fan forgets to bring a writing implement of their own. Carlos uncaps it, stares at his skin, then starts to scribble. Words, underlined, circled. Do well. Good luck. Please.

He doesn’t know if– but he could, maybe, if he saw. Carlos loses himself in a frenzy, then snaps out of it just as quickly when his palms get covered in writing. The sound of footsteps outside his door makes him flinch, and he tugs on his gloves as fast as he can, smearing the ink even more than before. It doesn’t matter. Odds are nothing will come of this anyway.

The race goes as expected. Checo does not crash, much to the chagrin of all other teams, and Carlos gets stuck behind him long enough that they start talking about switching him with Charles, which happens around lap forty. When the checkered flag waves, Charles is third, Carlos fourth. He parks quickly and hurries over to the front. By the time he gets there, Charles has already withdrawn inside the cooldown room but Carlos can shoulder in with the other Ferrari crew and shout and slap each other on the back and that’s good, too, it really is.

He will tell himself that it is. Carlos, by now, has gone to a lot of teams and learned about a lot of strategy choices. He knows how to convince himself that something is fine, that the decisions of the team are ones he agrees with. He can idle with the crew and stare up at the podium with a fixed smile on his face, because Carlos is a Good Teammate and Good Teammates show up for each other. They accept team orders when they come their way. They do not stand in the shade of someone else’s idol and think, this isn’t fair.

Of course it isn’t fair, it’s motorsport. Charles is the one they love the most, even when he’s erratic and crashes every other race. Charles is the pretty boy, the golden one, Il Predestinato. Carlos is merely his father’ son.

Charles, who figured out the whole game of soulmates months before. He guessed, at least. Told that to Carlos one night, grinning, drunk, spiraling after another lost podium. Charles had waited with wide eyes and a frozen smile as if waiting for Carlos to put something together, but the other shoe never dropped and eventually the moment ended, both of them pulled apart by other friends, downing other drinks, pretending they never existed.

Carlos thinks of it now. He watches Charles emerge from the shadows of the space behind the podium to stand in the blinding sunlight, waving down at all of them. One of the mechanics is elbowing him in the side, speaking in that low voice they all get when they do the boy’s club talk, you know, someone’s soulmate likes him well enough, obviously, and Carlos has no idea what he’s talking about until he looks up and sees. Sees Charles, his palms dark with ink. From up here, it’s too small to see what is written. The Catholic boy in him thinks stigmata which is wrong, obviously, because there is no great divine mystery here, not when Carlos knows what happened.

Not when Carlos was the one to write all of it earlier that day. He’d almost forgotten during the course of the race, but it all comes flooding back now. That’s his ink on Charles’ hands, and that means– That means Charles is his soulmate. Always has been. Always will be.

Carlos stares up at him. Charles looks down, and although he’s been grinning with victory this whole time, the smile that slides onto his face upon seeing his teammate is different than before, it’s knowing. Charles knows that Carlos has figured it out at last. He’s been waiting for him to do it all this time.

It’s almost obscene, how close Charles must have come to telling him about a thousand times. Who would risk it like that? No one. Charles would. Carlos pictures him with the Sharpie earlier that week, black tip poised above his skin. How he’d caught himself before giving himself up. Perfect timing, a driver’s reflexes. Like managing to right yourself right before sending your car into the wall. Or, better, like doing it anyway. Like accelerating before you go. Like leaving your hands on the wheel so your wrists can break, too, not just your heart.

Yes, Charles would. Charles Leclerc would. Charles, so impatient for his first championship that he’d give up his current chance by overshooting every corner, by doing too much until he ends up in the wall time and time again. This is the man who would expose his soulmate like a throat to a knife, and Carlos has known this about him for years.

The Ferrari section of the paddock is insane after getting a podium, so no one notices when Carlos fights his way through the crowds to let himself into Charles’ driver’s room. It’s empty when he arrives, Charles must have many more people to get through, so he paces relentlessly back and forth until Charles shows up.

Charles bursts through the door, still talking to someone down the hall. His exuberance crashes to a halt the second he sees Carlos waiting, and he hurriedly tells whoever is there not to wait up. Charles carefully closes the door behind him, locks it too, and then it’s just the two of them and this great and all encompassing secret for company.

Charles swallows. “You know.”

Of course he does. Friends show up at each other’s driver’s rooms all the time, but this isn’t just on the order of congratulations for a good race result. They would not be hovering on the edge of this great precipice if it was just that.

“You knew earlier,” Carlos challenges.

Charles ducks his head in a nod. “I did.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Carlos asks.

Charles’ gaze is shifty, it flicks from ceiling to floor to walls, anywhere but Carlos himself. Charles has always been a daredevil for the risks, but he’s never had the stomach for what becomes of them. The consequences are always a thousand times worse than the actions.

“I didn’t think you would want it. Want me,” he corrects, almost whispering.

This is so absurd that Carlos almost wants to laugh. Almost, because the look on Charles’ face is so pitiful that he can’t even smile. “Why wouldn’t I?” Carlos asks.

Charles blinks in surprise. “Because you were never even that interested in finding out who your soulmate was, mate. Always said it would just be some girl you didn’t know. I didn’t want to see your face when you realized you didn’t even get some girl but me.”

“I didn’t want to look too much into my soulmate because I was afraid it wouldn’t be you,” Carlos says in a rush, and as he admits it he knows it’s true.

How could it be anything but that? Carlos could have picked any team, but he went here. A hardheaded (formerly red) bull chasing not just the scarlet flag but the matador himself. Charles, all along.

Charles’ eyes are wide, lashes darker even than the ink still staining his palms. “So you’re not mad, then?” He asks cautiously.

“Not mad and not leaving,” Carlos reiterates.

A ghost of a smile flickers over Charles’ lips. “You cannot blame me for wanting to be sure, I didn’t want you to go until I managed to tell you.”

“You certainly took your time about it,” Carlos comments.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Just because we are racers does not mean we have to do everything fast, Carlos. Be patient.”

Carlos arches a brow. “You are telling me that?”

Charles has the grace to look at least a little ashamed. “Yes. Well. I can be patient now.”

Of course he can. They both can. Most people spend their entire lives searching for the answer to a question that is no longer a mystery to either of them. Time is all they have, time and sweet-sticky champagne and the sensation of being at the top of the world. Nothing will change them. Everything will. For once, though, the change does not scare him. It’s not bad, all of the time.

Sometimes, it brings him Charles. Sometimes, it brings him this. No, not bad in the slightest.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

also: @quill-of-a-sparrow

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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lvckyyz · 3 months

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Hi! Cabin 14, Iris's, is my favorite. I know you've already written headcanons about Iris being a mother and about Iris's kids (which I loved, by the way), but do you think you could write something else? Fun facts, maybe the relationship between themselves, or the relationship with other cabins, or the look of the cabin itself… I don't know! I would love to read any text about them!

friendship

iris’ kids and hades’ kids friendship as neighbors

i don’t know whose idea this was, but building hades’ cabin next to iris’ cabin was just perfect. they’re so different from each other yet they work so well together.

since cabins 13-20 were built, the iris’ children have been trying to keep a good relationship with their neighbors, cabin 13 and 15. they didn’t have any trouble with becoming friends with hypnos’ children, but the hades’ ones were a real challenge.

however, after they managed to get to know each other better, their friendship became one of the prettiest in the whole camp.

they take care of each other. is really normal to see some iris’ kids in cabin 13 in the morning to wake their friends up to have breakfast together. when some hades’ children sleep for too long and lose the time to get breakfast, the iris’ kids would try to cook something for them.

and when the hades’ kids start feeling more comfortable around cabin 14, they would try to impress them and show they care about what they say/do.

they’re always supporting each other; usually cabin 14 is not really into sports, but when they do participate you can be sure that there will be an hades’ child on their side to help them.

cabin 13 constantly having to listen to a speech about healthy sleeping schedules and how important it is to eat well, because cabin 14 gets worried when they don’t care about their wellbeing.

some hades’ kids realized that cabin 14 likes arts and crafts so they’d try to do handmade things for them, like bracelets and cards.

the iris’ kid always judging cabin 13 music taste but still listening to the songs they recommed to them.

cabin 13 liking to prank them by sending skeletons or spirits to their rooms to scare the iris’ kids.

the two of them having sleepovers together with the hypnos’ cabin, and eventually cabin 13 and 15 starting the biggest fight about who is cabin 14’s best friend.

they just have one of the cutest friendship in the world.

⤷ author’s note:

heyy! i also love cabin 14, and i’ve been thinking about their relationship cabin 13 for a long time now. i hope you liked it!💞

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #heros of olympus #pjo hoo toa #pjo imagine #pjo tv show #rick riordan #riordanverse #jason grace #headcanon #cabin 14 #cabin 13 #camp half blood #nico di angelo #iris #hades #luke castellan #clarisse la rue

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warden-melli · 5 months

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Do you have any headcanons for why Adaman wears bandages?

I do actually! (Ahhh something I’ve been dying to talk about, but haven’t found an excuse!)

Adaman shows no hesitation or limitations using his arm/hand, nor does he (or any other character) ever allude to him having received any kind of injury, or being in any kind of physical pain at any point during the story, so it’s unlikely that he wears them due to injury. I suppose he could wear them to cover scarring from an older injury, but I have a better explanation that has quite a lot of evidence to back it up

As I just mentioned, I don’t actually think they’re bandages in the sense that they’re covering a wound or injury, I headcanon that they’re protective arm wraps used for boxing or similar contact sport/martial arts. These wraps are often used to prevent/minimise injury, for compression and to stabilise the hands/wrist, sometimes extending up the arm to brace the elbow and shoulders depending on the activity, or style of fighting. Not only do they bare a striking resemblance to real life examples of such wraps, bandage wraps like this are a common trope in anime, especially among fighter/martial arts based characters.

Adaman isn’t the only member of his clan to wear similar arm wraps/bandages, with Iscan also wearing a similar set

In the Adaman and Irida gallery cards from the tcg, both cards make up on half of an image that shows the two Clans in one scene. In the foreground Iscan can be seen seemingly engaging in a (friendly I assume) fight of some sorts with Gaeric, of the Pearl clan. This establishes a few things. Firstly that boxing/fighting does appear to be the purpose of Iscan’s arm wraps, and that fighting in such a way is something that people of Hisui, more specifically people in Adaman’s very Clan, do participate in.

Having established that fighting is a pastime in Hisui, It’s not a stretch to assume that Adaman may also participate in similar activities, and with Iscan being a member of his clan it could even be the case that Iscan taught him the arm wrapping techniques in the first place (🥹)

We even know that Adaman has canon shown interest in such things, sharing a keen desire to learn ninja techniques from Benny, making it even more likely that fighting would appeal to him. He even briefly engages in a physical altercation with Kamado, who is a sumo wrestler.

I also have to mention that Adaman’s entire design is based on Dialga, so the bandages/wraps also serve the purpose of bringing more of that steel grey into his design, but from a lore perspective I think the most logical explanation (and my own personal headcanon) is that they’re arm wraps used for fighting!

Thanks so much for the ask! I’m always happy to answer any more headcanon questions! I think constantly about this game and it’s characters, so it’s really fun to share my thoughts and observations :)

#Adaman #leader adaman #clan leader adaman #pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #warden iscan #diamond clan #headcanon #ask Melli

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adorethedistance · 1 year

Text

Birthday girl - Hughes!Reader x Trevor Zegras

See my Hockey Masterlist for parts 2 and 3.

Warnings: swearing, teasing, embarrassment, etc.

Words: 1877

Summary: Your birthday celebration is under threat by the impending doom that is Trevor Zegras's presence.

A/N: Got an ask requesting Y/n!Hughes x Trevor enemies to lovers and I was obliged to write this. So this is part 1 and I hope to be able to write more parts soon. I have mid terms coming up but I will try my best.

"Morning, princess,” Dad greets me as I enter the kitchen. Eyes bleary and hair messy from sleep, I mumble a greeting as I sit down at my designated seat at the table. Mom places a small kiss on each of our heads as she walks by, going to grab her cup of coffee from the keurig that had just finished. Being the only girl of the Hughes family had its ups and downs, but one of the major perks was the fact that no matter what I did, mom and dad can’t say no to me. Which is why I asked to have a sleepover for my birthday. Mom and dad almost always say yes to sleepovers if you play your cards right.

“Leia has work after school today so she’ll be over around six but Chelsea is free so is it okay if she catches a ride home with us?” I half ask half tell Jack since he’s the Hughes family school bus driver. He nods along to my question-statement but I can tell he’s not fully listening. If there’s any confusion later, that’s on him. I have witnesses.

“Yes! I get to sit in the front,” Luke celebrates in response to my command-request. He might be taller but birth order is an impenetrable force, plus I’m the better navigator anyway. Jack said so. When it was Quinn’s senior year he was designated driver and Jack was shotgun, now it’s Jack’s turn to drive and my turn as shotgun. Me and my older brothers had been a trio since the dawn of time aka Luke’s arrival. When we turned 10, I made my own path in painting as the rest of them continued with hockey.

Hockey was always a fun extracurricular for us but puberty was a different milestone for each of us. As the spark of their passion for hockey grew brighter, mine dulled and I fell out of love with playing. I could tell mom and dad were disappointed at first but they bounced back quickly and were just as supportive as I reached for my own desires. Thus, I met Leia and Chelsea on the first day of Art 1, 2 with Mr. Tobias. We took some time to feel each other out and have been inseparable since. Nothing would be better than having the two of them spend the night for my birthday party.

“No,” Jack shakes his head at Luke, “Z’s carpooling with us.”

“What?” I ask sharply.

“Z, Turcs, and Cole are coming over tonight.”

“Absolutely not. Mom?!”

“You know the rule, Y/n. For special events each of you can invite your own friends no matter whose party it is.” I frown and scramble for boundaries to enforce.

“Can we at least have the tv room?”

“Y/n.”

“UGHHH!” I screech in frustration. Luke shoves me lightly to get back at me for being so loud but I’m too irritated that I just push him right back.

“Hey! No fighting at the table. Finish your food, both of you.” I petulantly stick my tongue out at Luke and he mirrors the action before we both continue eating.

“Why do you have to have people over?” I whine to Jack hoping he’ll have some humanity.

“Because I don’t want to hang out with you and your friends all night.”

“Can’t you go over to one of their houses?”

“Mom said they could come here so they’re coming here.”

“Can you limit it to just one friend?” I ask mom, hoping the rule change will prevent me from having to deal with him. “Or uninvite Trevor?” I mutter under my breath.

“What’s your deal? Do you have a crush on him or something?”

“No!”

“You totally do!” Luke chimes in to side with Jack.

“No, I don’t,” I say more calmly hoping that composure will be more compelling.

“You guys are always bickering.”

“And the staring! It’s a whole thing,” Jack adds as he finishes his plate.

“Mom, please don’t make me put up with all of this on my birthday.”

“It’s not even your birthday yet you have all of tomorrow!” Jack argues and I glare at him intensely.

“It’s just one night, Y/n. Besides, you’ll have your friends over too so it’s like you won’t even notice they’re there,” Mom tries to reason with me. I huff out a breath and settle back into my seat as dad places a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of me.

“Fine, but the second you guys start to bother me I’m kicking you out.”

___________________________

The fight at breakfast was a valiant effort but a defeat nonetheless, and it was pretty easy to live in ignorant bliss until the sixth-period dismissal bell rang.

“Bad news, y’all,” I say to both Leia and Chelsea, “we don’t have the tv room to ourselves.”

Neither one of them seems bothered by this disturbing information. “Ask me why!”

“Why?” They say in unison.

“My brothers are having friends over, too.”

“So no Knives Out?”

“Well, yes Knives Out but if we do have to sit with a bunch of boys.”

“Including THE boy?” Leia asks cautiously. She and Chelsea know about my back and forth with Trevor. They know how I like his swoopy hair and his dazzling smile. They know I hate his cocky attitude and the way his shirt moves when he stretches. They know how each and every day, I fall for him a bit more. That is until he opens his mouth. Sure my innate biology tells me I “like” Trevor, but I just have to shove that back down and ignore it.

“Yes, including him.”

“Your parents are making you hang out with them?”

“Well, no. But it’s like how I had y’all over for Luke’s party so I technically can’t say no.”

“Oh.”

“Welp. That sucks. I gotta go, though.”

“You fake ass bitch I thought you’d have my back on that one.”

“See yaaaa!” Leia throws up a peace sign and retreats to her car.

“Bye.” Chelsea and I wave to Leia as she heads out to the teachers’ lot where she always parks.

“You know what’s even worse?” I ask my remaining friend as we exit the school’s front gate.

“What?”

“Jack offered rides to all his friends back from school and he is the only one who accepted.”

“What? That’s so bullshit!”

“I know! So now I have to be around him even longer than I have to be around any of them!”

“Gottem.”

“I wish he would just get drafted already so I wouldn’t have to look at him anymore,” I say to Chelsea as we’re approaching Jack’s car.

“Where would you send him?”

“Florida.”

“Gross.”

“No, Florida’s not bad enough… Maybe New Jersey!”

“That’s too harsh.”

“What’s too harsh?” I hear Luke ask curiously. Actually taking a second to look and process what’s happening in front of me, I see Luke sitting on the hood of Jack’s car where he had been talking with a friend I didn’t instantly recognize. When the person turns around to see who Luke’s talking to, I see it’s Dylan bundled in a heavy coat. When Luke locks eyes with me, I give him a look saying ‘I won’t say anything but you better get off before Jack sees you’ and he understands the message, instantly rising from the hood of the car.

“Telling someone to go to Florida or New Jersey instead of ‘go to hell’,” Chelsea answers sweetly. The comment is unassuming but I can’t help but get the feeling she’s sizing up my brother’s friend.

“Is Jack still inside?” I ask to break the moment.

“Do you see him out here?” Luke counters sarcastically.

“I will kill you.”

“I will kill you,” Luke mocks me in an obnoxiously high voice. I continuously whine back at him, speaking in a high pitch gibberish which leads him to join in and do the same. We make noises at each other for a good while, confusing Chelsea and Dylan in the process.

“Are y’all good?” Chelsea asks in a concerned tone. Luke and I stop what we’re doing and I very frantically try to reassure her we’re not actually upset with each other. Amidst all the chaos and commotion, I hear his voice,

“What’s going on?” Trevor asks, confusedly looking between the four of us as Jack unlocks the car. Dylan utters a goodbye before Luke greets Trevor with a bro hug. I roll my eyes at the gesture and

“Nothing,” I quickly fire back before moving to the back door to allow Chelsea in first. She slides all the way across the row of back seats and I take the middle to sit between her and Luke. Jack and Trevor climb into the front and we’re on our way back home.

“Did you see Sam Blandor was wearing red bottom shoes today?” I ask Chelsea amidst the silence. Realizing this ride is going to be way too quiet for my liking, I blindly reach for the aux cord as I anticipate her response.

“Deadass?”

“Yes! As I was going to third period I-” I cut myself off mid-sentence when my hand collides with someone else’s. Looking up, I see Trevor was blindly reaching for the aux at the same time causing us to bump hands. I throw him a sideways look before focusing my gaze on Chelsea to avoid any further contact with Trevor.

“As you were going to third period you what?” He asks, much to my dismay. I feel too awkward to ignore him so I answer unenthusiastically.

“I saw the shoes as she was walking.”

“Honestly, I’m not surprised. She drives an Audi and wears exclusively Brandy Melville her parents must be loaded.”

“Is she dating someone on NTDP?” Trevor asks, confused why he knows the name. Luke butts in to reply,

“Yeah, she’s dating Moynihan.”

“Her parents are loaded. Patty was telling us the other day that she has a trust fund.”

“Bullshit,” I say, refusing to believe Trevor’s telling any semblance of the truth.

“Yeah, she came to the game the other day in Moynihan’s away jersey from last year.”

“That’s so demeaning. Why would you wear a man’s name on your back that’s not even yours?” I ask with disdain.

“I like it!” Chelsea whines in protest, “I think it’s cute because it’s more outstated than just wearing a guy’s hoodie.”

“But don’t you think it’s objectifying?”

“No one’s forcing you to wear it, it’s your choice.”

“I guess…” I trail off as I see Jack whisper something to Trevor which then makes both of them laugh subtly.

“Would you wear my jersey, Y/n/n?” Trevor asks, snide. Luke and Jack howl with laughter at my expense and I feel my face flush 1000 degrees. I roll my eyes and sink back into my seat, wishing I could disappear entirely. The car quiets down again and Trevor returns to holding my gaze, challenging me almost. I glare at him and he just mimics my gaze to mess with me.

“I’ll kill you.”

“At least buy me dinner first,” he sneers with a smile that promises trouble. I roll my eyes again before turning my attention back to Chelsea.

“Anyways.”

***

A/n: I hate it here lol. If I could drop out and write fanfics for a living I would really be considering it.

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theguildawards · 6 months

Text

Hello guildmates!

The Nomination Period is now closed! Below the cut you will find a complete list of all the fanart nominations received for The Guild Awards this term! The mobile-friendly version can be found in a Google Doc here that has the complete list!

You can find the list of all the fanfiction nominations here!

If you do not see your nomination, or you find issues with the links, please reach out to us as soon as possible!

We are going to give you 2 weeks time to enjoy all of the pieces nominated for this term! We strongly encourage that when you view a work of art or read a fanfiction, please reblog or leave a review to let the creators know how much their work and talent is appreciated!

The voting period will begin November 15th and end November 29th midnight PST!

In order to be able to vote, you will need to login. We will be posting the link to the voting form on the first day of the voting session.

Got a question? Check out our FAQ or send us an ask!

Message one of the mods directly: @sassybratt9791 @phoenix-before-the-flame @kiliinstinct @ratretro @phoneboxfairy

Thank you to everyone who nominated for making this term absolutely wonderful and happy voting!

[please reblog to help spread the love of these amazing creators!]

FANART

Best Action/Adventure

“we illuminate the dark” by @flamedork (tumblr)

“Mirajane” by @pencilequipped (tumblr)

“Freed Day” by @moxiepoxart (tumblr/TW)

Best AU/AR

“a quick art for an AU” by @4stralfairy (tumblr)

“erza redesign” by @mousecracker (tumblr)

“Accidental Freed AU/backstory” by @intelligentbiscuit (tumblr/DA)

“Fairytail Next Generation” by @hollie-artz (tumblr)

“Dragon Erza” by @ace-of-fairytail (tumblr)

Best Canon

“Juvia piece” by @pencilequipped (tumblr)

“Happy Nalu Day 2023” by @likubears (tumblr)

Best Angst

“foolish remains of a hyacinth” by @heartonxions (tumblr/IG)

“queen of fairies” by @nalunalu (tumblr)

Best Dark

“Untitled” by @heartserion (tumblr)

“Monster” by @acnologias-ass (tumblr)

“‘You’ve become a beast’ ‘I know’” by @phoenix-before-the-flame (tumblr)

“A Mouth Full of Ridicule” by @firapolemos05 (tumblr)

Best Humor/Parody

“NaLu Winter Wonderland 2022” by @imnothereokuwu (tumblr)

“They’re guilty😔” by @lav3nder-bees (tumblr)

“Why As a Man, Are you Blond” by @butcherza (tumblr)

“Barbie Movie Tickets For Phantom Buddies” by @imyourcoopid (tumblr)

Best Kiss

“Guilty Pleasures” by @bluessom1 (tumblr)

“don’t interrupt the master’s meetings” by @castkorb (tumblr)

“Luvia” by @watcher-ofthe-sky (tumblr)

Best Romance

“A Fairy Tale of our own making” by @nalunalu (tumblr)

'Love and Other Fairy Tales’ by @heartonxions (tumblr)

“Gruvia Week” by @goodnightlover (tumblr)

Best LGBTQ+ Romance

“lucy + cana <3” by @heartserion (tumblr)

“Untitled” by @annluvazzel (tumblr)

“fraxus week day 5 - guilty pleasures / indulgences” by @lav3nder-bees (tumblr)

“Shadowlight Week Day 2: Thrill/Undress” by @oryu404 (tumblr)

Best Character

“Juvia piece” by @pencilequipped (tumblr)

“Lucy Heartfilia - Fairy Tail” by @lumen-anima (tumblr)

“when the hard work pays off (Aries)” by @burilingo (tumblr)

“Natsu Dragneel” by @anushpaint (tumblr)

“Thunder Dragon King Laxus Dreyar!!” by @wispzoa (tumblr)

Best Duo/Pairing

“Untitled” by @doubleragnarok (tumblr)

“fairy tails only(?) 2 two card mages” by @ace-of-fairytail (tumblr)

“Summer Fraxus” by @wispzoa (tumblr/TW)

“a quick art for an AU” by @4stralfairy (tumblr)

“Fight!!” by @castkorb (tumblr)

“The Blue-Haired Found Siblings” by @jerzaworms (tumblr)

Best Group Depiction

“Anniversary” by @love---mandy

“some crime sorciere pastels” by @jerzaworms (tumblr)

“Team Thunderstorm Naptime” by @pencilofawesomeness (tumblr)

“hehehe team shadowgear make brain go brrr” by @moonylilies (tumblr)

Best Manga Coloring

“Juvia” by @shuvia-lu (tumblr)

“Mashima's Twitter doodle" by @zelkams-art (tumblr)

“Sun vs. Moon” by @krn02-12 (tumblr)

Best Redraw

“I believe in you” by @imnothereokuwu (tumblr)

“Redrawing one of my favorite frames” by @sherlismyfather (tumblr)

“Cryptid Mode” by @pencilofawesomeness (tumblr)

“Jackal” by @misquitz (tumblr)

“Nalu Gruvia Jerza Redraw from Mashima’s Art” by @gymjunkie412 (tumblr)

Best Overall

“Please, accept him” by @phoenix-before-the-flame (tumblr)

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb” by @bluessom1 (tumblr)

“Happy Gajeel Day" by @butcherza (tumblr)

“Night sovereignty” by @crowind1 (tumblr)

#fairy tail #theguildawards #ft awards #tgat22023

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commando-rogers · 10 months

Text

I know little ol me does not get much traction on this site and I’ve been reblogging PLENTY about the WGA/SAG-AFTRA strikes, but I keep seeing people confused about this online and irl so I just want to say:

As of now, the unions have NOT asked us to stop watching content. You can (and should!) keep watching and streaming your favorite shows and movies.

Now, I’m not a member of either union (though I hope to join SAG in the coming years if I get lucky, and maybe WGA is in my future if I get off my butt and write!) so I am not an authority on this, nor do I have all of the information. I could be mistaken on some of this, so those with more knowledge feel free to correct me! But I do know for a fact that the unions have not asked us to boycott watching shows.

The purpose of these strikes is to stop providing LABOR to the AMPTP (the gross weird mafia-like conglomeration of studios such as Netflix, Warner Bros, the like), not to stop watching.

Part of the issue with the proposed contracts from studios is the fairness of residuals (money paid to a writer/actor when their work is aired on TV, released on DVD, sold to a network, etc.). If already-aired shows and movies continue doing well, these workers keep getting paid (at least a little, they’re not getting paid for their jobs while striking but the studios cannot withhold residuals). (Of course, it’s messier with streaming services, which is another thing being advocated for in these contracts.)

So keep streaming movies and shows! Keep tuning in on TV if any of you still have cable! Go see Barbenheimer or anything you’d like to see at the theater! Support the art! This is a labor strike, not a consumer boycott. Not only might it help with residuals, but it shows the studios that there is still a demand for content. People are still watching their movies and shows, they still want to pay their subscriptions, and the studios are proverbially shooting themselves in the knee by withholding future content. That’s why this strike will work, that’s why WGA and SAG-AFTRA refuse to back down until their demands are met.

ESPECIALLY with shows that are coming out! Good Omens is one of my favorite shows, and season 2 drops on July 28th. Neil Gaiman, the writer, is very active on tumblr if you’d like to go check out his blog, and he’s being incredibly gracious and helpful answering questions about the strike. And he said the BEST thing we can do for the show is WATCH it. Watch in one sitting! Watch it on loop! We need to demonstrate demand, or the studios will cancel shows, which means artists out of work.

Of course, should the unions come out with a statement and ask us to stop watching, do it. However, that is not currently their wish, nor is it a rule of the strike.

(A note: if you’re like me and hoping to become an actor or writer in the future, this is NOT the time to get your big break. Studios are gonna come looking for nonunion talent to keep productions going. They are exploiting us and our desperation. If you scab and perform labor for a struck company during this strike, you WILL be blacklisted from ever joining the union in the future. Aspiring actors, that featured background gig is not worth kissing your hopes of a SAG card goodbye. Same goes for writers. You may see some SAG work continuing, that is being done under special agreements with the union, for SPECIFIC exceptions. Do your research on every casting call. Do not scab, these union members are fighting for OUR futures in this industry! The worst thing you can do is hurt them and throw your future away.)

Check out the WGA’s website and SAG-AFTRA’s website for more info on strike rules, and things you can do to help. If you want to make a financial difference, the best thing you can do is donate to strike funds. Go to this link and under Strike Assistance you’ll see a number of funds that are being used to help pay writers while out of work, AND to help pay the crew members who are also out of work because of the strike! Worker solidarity! Here is a link to emergency funds for SAG-AFTRA members.

If you’re in NYC or LA, stop by the picket lines! Even non-members are welcome to march, and a great way to help is to show up and hand out water bottles, food, anything you’re willing to donate and help make the picketers’ day just a little easier. And here’s a link to the LA chapter of Democratic Socialists of America. They have information on strike funds, as well as a fund specifically to help buy snacks for picketers! It’s summer, and both NYC and LA are miserable to be marching in the sun all day.

The other way the unions say we can help is by speaking up and voicing your support on social media. An anonymous studio exec told Dateline “The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses.” They said the quiet part out loud. You can look up the salaries of these studio execs. It’s tens and hundreds of millions. Then go look up what each union is asking for in their contracts. It’s a drop in the studios’ bucket, but they’re refusing to budge, and they’re showing their complete lack of humanity.

tl;dr: you can and should keep watching shows and movies during the strikes, unless we are told otherwise by the unions. There are other great ways to help! These unions are a huge driving force of American economy, and hopefully these strikes will help garner support for a larger labor movement for all workers to get fair pay.

Thanks for tuning in to my accidentally very lengthy post. But I hope this helps clear up confusion. Share this info with your friends, and voice your support loudly! And for the love of god DO NOT CROSS PICKET LINES!

#sag aftra #writers guild of america #sag aftra strike #wga strike #support the wga #wga solidarity #wga strong #writers strike #actors strike #sag aftra strong #sag aftra solidarity

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nightfurylover31 · 9 months

Text

With stories of Tails and Knuckles, time to finally write something with Amy for @starrjoy's Pandora AU. This was the trickiest to figure out, but thanks to some theories about her around here, I finally got something. I hope you enjoy!

After the events of Sonic Frontiers, the gang is getting ready to set off on their own separate adventures. Before leaving, Amy decides to do some fortune readings. However, Sonic soon learns his most cheerful, optimistic friend didn’t always have such a happy life.

Amy had just finished shuffling her cards. She drew three and looked them over. She seemed quite pleased with what she had. Just then, she heard a knock at her door. She went to answer, but she already knew who it was.

“SONIC!” She happily greeted the blue hedgehog as she opened the front door, even before she got a look at him. “I knew it was you!”

“Well, you were expecting me, right?” Sonic placed a bag on the table next to the couch. “Here's the supplies you wanted from Tails.”

Amy went to check the contents of the bag. “Thanks. I’m not sure what I’ll face out there, so I want to be prepared. You can never be too careful.”

“I guess, but-"

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The two laughed as Amy joined in on Sonic’s line.

“You want some tea and cookies? I made a fresh batch.” There was not a soul out there who could resist Amy’s baked goods.

“Sure. I could go for a snack.” Sonic sat down on the couch, and just as he was about to put his feet up, he saw Amy’s cards on the table. He picked up one with a large emerald on it. “Trying to guess the future again?”

Amy placed the tray of drinks and cookies in front of them. “Fortune reading is not guessing, Sonic. It’s a mystic art to gain insight into the past, present, and future. I wish you would take it more seriously. We did meet because of my fortune cards, remember?”

Sonic shrugged. “I still question how those cards told you Little Planet at that specific time.”

“It’s about interpretation!”

“Right... anyway, it’s not my thing. I don’t like being told what to do. Prophecies are not for me.” Sonic said that with his typical ‘too cool to care’ attitude, but there was a deeper meaning behind it. He tried to fulfill a prophecy once, and it cost him everything.

“Fortune reading is not the same as a prophecy, Sonic,” Amy corrected as she sat down beside him. “They’re meant to help guide you on the journey through life. For example, the cards may have led me to meet you, but I was the one who chose to follow you. I decided my own path.”

This made Sonic pause for a moment. The choices we make... how we interpret them… it wasn’t as set in stone as he had initially thought. Though he had made it a habit to break through everything that was. How many could fight giant gods and win? And on more than one occasion at that?

“These cards may seem silly to you,” Amy continued, “but they have helped me through a lot of hard times.” She picked up her tea and took a sip. “Especially when I couldn’t count on anyone else before…”

“What was that?” Sonic caught something Amy said under her breath. She blinked and quickly turned her head.

“Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing at all!” She tried to make it sound casual, but it came out quick and panicky.

“Ames…” He bent over, leaning his elbows on his thighs. He raised his eyebrow and gave her the look she would give him whenever she was annoyed.

Amy just stared at her drink. There was a long silence. The only sound was the wind chimes outside. After what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke.

“Let’s just say I don’t have the best relationship with my parents.”

“Your parents?” All the time he knew her, Sonic never heard Amy mention anything about her family. He assumed she visited them whenever he hadn’t seen her for a while. Actually, he never even thought that. He never considered anything about her past. Boy, did that make him feel like a jerk.

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay.” Amy put her cup down and crossed her arms. Not like she was mad, more like she felt vulnerable. This was not Sonic’s strong suit, but even he couldn’t ignore this matter.

“Amy, you’re always trying to convince us to open up and talk about our feelings,” he reached out and placed a hand her shoulder. “You should be able to talk about yours.”

The pink hedgehog rolled her eyes, letting out a small sad chuckle. “You’re really using my advice against me?”

“If I have to.”

There was no getting out of this. As much as Sonic disliked talking so opening about his deeper emotions, and would prefer not to dig too deep into others’, it felt like it needed to be done.

Amy took a deep breath. “My parents were… are basically always busy. Not just focusing on their jobs, but every aspect of their lives. They put so much time and effort into everything they do… except me.” Her ears began to fall back a bit. “They weren’t even always home. Sometimes one was gone, sometimes both. There were times when I would days, or even weeks, without seeing them. And even then, they hardly spent any time with me.”

This story was already starting to put a knot in Sonic’s stomach. You’d think parents would put their kids first. Amy picked up one card. It looked like it had some sort of knight on it.

“These cards were one of the few things they gave me. I had to ask though, they thought card readings were stupid and unrealistic. But they’re how I got by. Something to do, and to look forward to. Back then, when I got this card… I had always wanted to see Little Planet. A rare phenomenon that only happens one month out of the year. Even though my parents weren’t home at the time, I ran off. To see my supposed ‘destined encounter.’ And sure enough…”

“You ran into me,” Sonic finished the thought. “Though it was actually more like I ran into you.” He tried adding a little joke to lighten the mood. It seemed to work; Amy giggled a bit.

“By the time all that was over, I knew my parents had returned. I had to tell them everything.” Amy went quiet again. She lowered her head, balled her fists up. “But when I got back… they didn’t even notice I was gone!”

Sonic’s mouth fell agape. Didn’t notice?! He tried to think of a logical reason. “Well, there was the whole mess with the Time Stones. Maybe--"

“It took me two days to get to Never Lake from my old house! Even with the stones, I was gone for almost a week! And they had been home for days! Even when I told them I was captured and threatened, they brushed it off! ‘You got back. That’s what counts.’ How could they not have been worried?!”

At this point, Amy was crying. She hid her face in her hands, trying to control her sobs. “Parents are supposed to yell at you when you do something wrong! They’re supposed to shout and punish you! Tell you not to do stuff like that! That’s how they show they care, isn’t it?!”

The more she cried, the more Sonic’s heart ached. Not just for her, but looking back. How often his own mother would scold him for doing things. How she spoke of acting out herself when she was young to get attention. Sonic had thought she was just trying to control everything at the time, but she wasn’t. She was just trying to protect him. If he had listened, if he had understood, then she, his siblings, everyone on Christmas Island. They’d still be here.

Still, all this time, Sonic had no idea of the weight on Amy’s heart. Since she was so cheerful and outgoing, he figured she had a happy upbringing.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. Eventually, I left that place. I had money, so I could rent out places, like my apartment in Station Square. If they weren’t going to be there for me, I would find my own way. My own adventures. I chose the path of the one who didn’t let me down.”

“You mean me?” Sonic asked in a depressed tone.

Amy nodded. “Sonic, you were the first person I met who was there for me. Even when you ran off, whenever I was in trouble, you always came to help me. You didn’t… you didn't abandon me.”

Her voice was still shaky, but her crying was more controlled. Steeling herself from vulnerability.

“Have you… spoken to them since?” Sonic was sure he knew the answer, but asked anyway.

“I’ve… made attempts reach out. They haven’t. Honestly, it was probably a huge relief. I don’t think they wanted a child in the first place. I wasn’t worth their time.”

“Don’t say that!” Sonic’s voice came out louder than expected. He almost slammed his fists on the couch, but he was mad. Amy looked quite surprised by this. The blue hedgehog lowered his tone as he continued. “Amy, you’re an amazing person. You’re kind, brave, thoughtful, and do what you can to help anyone who needs it. They should have realized they had the best daughter they could ever hope for. If they couldn’t see that, then they aren't worth your time.”

Amy’s cheeks turned bright red. She tried to cover it while also wiping away any remaining tears. She looked up smiling. “Thanks, Sonic. That really means a lot.”

Once again, Sonic put his hand on her shoulder. “I mean it. You’re one of my best friends, Amy, and my life is always exciting and unexpected when you’re around. Meeting you was one of the best things that ever happened to me. You, Tails, and even Knuckles.”

Amy couldn't help but hug him. To finally unload all that baggage and to have some comfort. Sonic wrapped his free arm around her and patted her back. With that reassurance, the room became quiet again as they finished their snacks. The tension in the air began to settle and ease. It was now Sonic's turn to speak.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I can understand now why you always go out of your way to help people. You don’t want them to feel hurt like you were. If I had known… I would have given your 'so called parents' a piece of my mind.”

Amy let out a small laugh. “It’s alright. I’ve put that behind me. Besides, if that didn’t happen, if I hadn’t taken that step, I probably wouldn’t have met so many wonderful friends.”

Amy’s words suddenly hit Sonic harder than any of Eggman’s robots ever did. If that didn’t happen, I never would have met you guys. He thought hard. Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Cream, Shadow, and so many more. All these amazing friends, they wouldn’t be in his life if he hadn’t gone through with Pandora’s scheme. It was a bittersweet truth he never realized. On one hand, he would still have his family. On the other, he wouldn’t have the family he has now.

Tails was mechanically gifted, like Manic. Knuckles was super strong and hardheaded, just like Sonia. And Amy, she had the same loving and overbearing heart that his mother had. In a way, it was like his previous family’s spirit found their way into his new one. A strange sensation filled Sonic’s heart. He could feel his eyes burning. He wasn’t sure if it was sadness or joy, or something in between. Just an emotion that took over his whole being.

“Thank you, Amy.”

“For what?” She became confused by the look on Sonic’s face. She could sense something strange going on in his mind.

“I’ll tell you about it another time.” Sonic pushed aside any form of confession. If he told her now, a flood of feelings he spent years burying would come pouring out. Instead, he changed the topic by picking up another card. “Why don’t you do one of your readings for me?”

Amy gave him the side eye. “I thought these weren’t your thing.” She was sporting a smug grin of satisfaction.

“You’ve convinced me. Maybe I’ll at least get a good laugh out of it.” Sonic was starting to feel more like his in control self.

With that, Amy took the card he had, gather the others, and shuffled them together. She did so carefully, but also with a great deal of showmanship. Once she was done, she spread out the cards and gestured to Sonic. He picked three cards and gave them back. Amy flipped them over, inspecting them. Her expression started simple, then a little more serious, followed by wide eyed concern.

“So… is it bad?” Something about the look on her face made Sonic a bit nervous.

“It seems like you’ll be facing a great trial soon.” Her voice low and almost stoic.

“Not like I haven’t done any of those recently.” The blue blur eased. This didn’t seem new. He loved challenges.

“This is different,” Amy pressed. “It may be something about your past. Some sort of tragedy coming back with vengeance. Pushing you in a way you never have.”

“Again, how did you get all that?” Even though Sonic played it cool, there was a small chill that ran down his spine. It seemed as of late he had been thinking about his past more often than he had in years. Was Amy somehow picking up on that? She did seem to have way of sensing things like that. But even so, that was all water under the bridge… poor choice of words.

“Aren’t you even the least bit worried as to what this means?” Now it was Amy’s turn to give that look Sonic gave her earlier. Despite the twinge in his heart, he showed no signs of it affecting him.

“Whether it’s true or not, I’ll face it like I do with everything. Head on.”

“What if it’s not something you can face head on?” The concern in her voice was clear. With all the dangers Sonic had been in lately, how close she had been to losing him, it’s no wonder.

Sonic gave her his trademark wink. “Then I at least know I've got a team to back me up. It’s nothing we can’t handle together.”

—————

Boy, how those words came back to bite him. He didn’t give too much thought into that reading. Now he was heading right into it. As Sonic stood between the wings of the Tornado for shelter against the pouring rain, so many thoughts raced through his head. His past truly was coming back to haunt him.

The only thing that gave Sonic any comfort in the moment was that Tails, Knuckles and Amy were with him. Tails had just gotten the full story, but he hadn’t said anything to Knuckles and Amy. He knew he would have to tell them as well, but for now he just wanted to focus on the task at hand. Get the Chaos Emeralds and stop these… water wraiths. And prevent Eggman from making the same mistake Sonic did years ago. And hopefully, no definitely, not lose his new family doing so.

#sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #pandora au #fanfic #sonic and amy #p!au

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aromanticautiesworld · 3 months

Note

MARTINER PLS IM BEGGING FOR ANYTHING FERN X READER 😓

Specifically a gn!musician reader who's chill and easy going, (sort of balances fern out/similar to marshall lee) who teases fern sometimes and becomes friends with fern, fern develops a crush on them and gets jealousy of the friendship between finn and the reader and finally gets the guts to confess.

ADD ANYTHING TO THE PROMPT BC YOURE A GREAT WRITER <333

AHGJH THANK U!! i LOVE this req btw im gonna incorporate it into my belief system

////

fern with a musician gn!reader (art by mee!)

word count: 1789

The first time, he met you through Finn.

One lousy sunday evening Finn invited you over (he will often invite people over to the treehouse with no warning), the sky was halfway dark, and you looked like you walked all the way here.

You wore a large case on your back, hair tied up and a pencil slid behind your ear. Slung across your shoulder was a duffel bag which he would soon discover was full of paper (paper is weird to think about. It used to be trees, and he’s kinda related to trees now. It’s not cannibalism yet, but it’s close. Corpse desecration, maybe. He doesn’t feel that strongly about it anyways, nor does he feel very close to the trees, even if he technically is) with scrawled half-written lyrics all over them.

“Anyone home?” You half-yell from the bottom of the treehouse. Finn was out on the deck, doing who-the-hecking-gob-knows-what with Jake.

Fern sits perched from his up hiding spot (you could only see his glowing eyes, if you were looking up). He slithers down the ladder, remaining unseen (he doesn’t want to be. They’re a new person. New people are scary), tail flicking.

When you notice him, you quickly turn around. “Hey,” You squint. “Finn?”

There is a pause as he is torn between opting out of this conversation entirely and actually talking. “Fern, actually.”

“Oh. Cool name,”

“I picked it.”

“My parents gave me mine, but I’m considering changing it.”

“Why would you wanna change your name?”

You shrug, “I like to live my life on the edge. Me n’ your roommate got a jam sesh happening right now, you should join,”

There’s a beat of silence. “…I don’t think I’m invited. Grass boys can’t play the flute. Grass boys can’t even breathe.” Fern crosses his arms and looks down, frowning.

Worry flickers over your eyes, if you blink you’ll miss it. “Hmm…” You look to the side, in thought. “Well, now you are. ‘Grass boy’.” You smile ever so slightly when using the nickname he’s given for himself.

“Hey! Only I get to call myself that!”

“Sure, grass boy. C’mon, he’s probably out on the deck,” You walk to the ladder, gesturing for him to follow.

And, for no reason he can think of, he follows you. It’s like he wants to be around you, which is weird. He usually stops himself from being around people, they either treat him like he is Finn or like he’s the opposite. He’s not either, though.

He picks off a flower from his shoulder. Where did that come from?

The fourth time, you had a BFF sleepover. Fern had crawled onto the outside of the tree, to both not intrude and not do something wrong (it was the worst thing when Jake looked at him like that. He doesn’t want you to look at him like that too). The distant sounds of the Candy Kingdom and Jake lamenting at not winning card wars are all the sounds there are, up there.

Until the sounds of someone crawling onto the roof with him.

He sharply turns, ready to fight off whatever evil was trying to kidnap Finn or Jake (or both) this time. But no, it’s just you again.

“Was Jake too mean in card wars?”

“No, I just lost. They’re playing elimination, I don’t feel like watching the rest.”

You plop down right next to him.

“Y’ever been there?” You look up at the sky.

Fern squints, “That cloud?”

“No, pom-pom. The sky.” (This was a new nickname, made after the discovery of his dandelion tail).

“No. Wait! Yes. Magic man was doing some b-s with my bro, so I had to meet the immortal King of Mars.”

“Then what?”

“He died.”

You snort. It wasn’t an intentional joke, but he gets that weird buzzy feeling again.

“Whoa, poms. You’re like, covered in flowers.”

Finn groans. “Aghh! Again??” He sits up and rushes to brush the reds, yellows and oranges off himself.

He turns to you smiling at him in his flower frenzy, frown heavy upon his face.

“What?” He asks, accusatory, grass puffed up (the image reminds you of an angry cat).

“Nothing. Just you.”

Fern’s tail twitches, he de-puffs and he brings his knees to his chest.

It’s quiet again, you both sitting in comfortable silence.

“We may not have sunshine, or starlight, or weather,

But we've got each other, and that's even better.

You don't need the sun to keep you warm when you've got arms,

Wishes come from you and not a random shooting star.

We may not have storm clouds, but the sky's always blue,

We've got something special here

And what we have is you

What we have is you

What we have is you…”

You look over to grass-boy, asking if he liked it, but you stop yourself halfway. He was asleep.

You brush the stray hairs out of his face, before climbing back off the roof to probably lose card wars again. Such is the tragedy of sleepovers.

Fern would later wake up, and have an important realization.

Fern messes around with his…Finn’s old racecar track toy. He then drops it to the floor.

“I got a question for you, Finn.”

“What’s up, dude?”

“If I…hypothetically…liked…someone… how would I go about doin’ that?”

“You got a crush?”

“No! It’s hypothetical.”

Finn squints at him.

“Hypothetical.”

Finn continues to squint.

“Hy-po-the-ti--”

“No no, I got it.”

“Okay.”

“Well…I would say you tell them how you feel.”

Flowers cover his face again. “Noooooo!! What if they don’t like me back? What if they like someone else?”

Finn shrugs, “Then they don’t like you back. I had a crush on PB for years, she never liked me back and we’re still friends.”

“But what if…”

“Dude.” Finn stops him. “You got this.”

Fern would appreciate his cheering on, but he’s not so sure Finn would say the same thing had he known it was you, or that he’s got this. He knows you like spending time with Finn more than him.

The ???th time (he’s lost count), you invited him along again, with Finn, (and basically everyone else in Ooo, to be honest. It happens when you’re friends with Finn) to a TV night for your birthday. It was an old one you scavenged up, “My Little Pony” or something (his favorite character is Rainbow Dash).

After many weeks of toeing around the idea of asking you out (that time you guys made pancakes, when you went for a dip in the river He’s going to do it tonight.

You sat next to him (close. to him), singing along to the many, many songs over the noise of the crowd behind the couch.

“No, I do not love the groom, in my heart there is no room—” You lean into him and he mumbles along with the lyrics, small smile on his face.

“Finally the moment has arrived! For me, to be one lucky bride…” Finn is also singing. He pauses, staring off into space, before snapping up. “Oh yeah!”

“Hm?” You look across Fern to him.

“C’mere dude, I gotta show you something!”

You get up from his side, going with Finn, and leaving him disappointed.

He follows the duo, though the mild party and to the hallway where Finn was lugging a huge box.

“I got you a present!”

“Oh, awesome,”

“You wanna open it?”

“Hold on,” You pull a pair of scissors out of your pocket. Why it was in there, no one will ever know.

Fern then gets hit by the realization that he forgot to get you a present. How the heck did he think he could just /show up/ to your party without one?

“Oh, Finn, this is so cool! Thanks so much,” You admire the new guitar you’d window shopped for a few weeks ago, which Finn had apparently taken notice of.

“It’s NP, DW about it.”

“Why are you talking in acronyms?”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying out.”

Fern shuffles over to you. “Hey, um, [ ]? Can I talk to you about something?”

“What’s up?”

He lowers his head more. “Can I talk to you about it in private?”

You look back at Finn, then nod and gesture for him to follow into a more secluded hallway, the muffled sounds of dance music vibrating through the walls.

You don’t say anything, and instead are listening intently (terrifying). Fern has to take a deep breath to steady himself.

“I….um….” He begins to fidget with his hands, “I think you’re really cool. And…you’re one of the only people who doesn’t look at me like a monster. And I like hanging out with you and I wanna hang out more and…”

You nod, urging him to continue.

“…andddddd I—”

“AAAAAAAH!” A scream from the party interrupts him.

“GIANT WORM!”

You both immediately run out, to see a monster breaking through one of the walls of your house, jerking around violently as Finn already had his sword around its neck (?).

Fern rushes in, grass sword already whipped out.

He joins Finn on its head (? Again. It’s a worm) stabbing it, rapidly. Its pink blood drips down the side of its face, onto your floor. It begins jerking and twitching even more violently now, trying to shake Fern off.

Finn struggles, and tries to get a stable footing, before the force it’s using to try and get both him and Fern off plunges Finn’s sword right through its neck.

Its head falls right to the floor, Fern still on it, who is still stabbing.

Finn continues to fight the rest of the worm’s body, which has since retreated outside and is currently trying to spit acid at him, leaving barren spots in the grass with only mildly dissolved dirt.

You crouch in front of Fern, putting your hand on his shoulder.

“I think it’s had enough, grass boy,”

He looks up at you, then back down at the corpse-head, and re-sheathes the grass sword.

“What were you saying?”

Feen blinks. What was he saying?

You stare at him, intently.

Oh yeah, absolute fear. “I…..”

“……reallyreallylikeyou. Alotalot.” He snaps his eyes shut when he says it, only opening one a moment later to gauge your reaction.

You knew this already, but you wanted to wait until he was sure of his feelings.“Awww, I like you too! you little pom-pom.” You squish his (flower covered) face.

“Stop it!” He complains.

“Nope, we're partners. You can’t escape me now,”

‘Nooooooooooo…”

“Go Fern! Yeahhh!” Finn shouts from where he stood on the decapitated corpse on the worm, covered in pink blood.

You giggle, before it slowly subsides. “Wait a minute. How am I gonna pay for my house?”

#mariner writes #mariner art #adventure time x reader #fern the human #fern x reader #x reader #THIS TOOK TOO LONG IM SOOO SORRY

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jangmi-latte · 1 year

Note

Miss Chii, I was talking with a friend and they’re trying to tell me that Rook is lanky. Can you help me defeat the allegations by helping me find some card art that shows how built he is?

slowly blinks eye twitching lips twitching lips slowly turning to a grin fingers crawling slowly giggling

MY PLEASURE.

warning the more you scroll the more i lose my sanity.

lanky?? the thighs? the legs? the ARMS? the shoulders??? can you climb a tree, run fast, jump from branch to branch, have enough stamina to still go for more for a WHOLE DAY, and be lanky?? it's not anatomy-ing.

also, it IS canon that rook is a very toned and muscled man. vil said it himself <3 rook has been training a lot and he grew bigger while the former admitted that he is indeed working harder than he usually does everyday. [see story event of beansfest/bean's day]

i can't hear you from the back i have done archery countless of times and let me tell you holding a bow up for a long period of time is ARM SHAKENING i tell you my shoulders and arms were in pain for days. and pulling the bow back?? MY FINGERS WERE ALSO IN PAIN. that string is TOUGH. and let me tell you there are different bow weights and rook owes a ton. the lightest i held was already enough to make me slouch after shooting one arrow. a hunting arrow is HEAVY i tell you. rook has done archery since he was a child do you think his muscles wouldn't be big???????????????????

DO I NEED TO EXPLAIN.

LOOK AT THE PHYSIQUE BROAD SHOULDERS, WIDE CHEST, SMALL WAIST, THE FOREARMS??????? I'M ALREADY FOAMING AT THE MOUTHAUIWHDNULIWAHDNULIWHNLZIUSfBHUBEHUIAZBFGIERGBLAUIGBAGLGABYUHJABGLKAGBVLKBGRA

ALL I SEE ARE MUSCLES YOUR HONOR.

here are rook and mal's sprites side by side. FAIRLY ENOUGH THERE IS A SIGNIFICANT DIFFERENCE IN THEIR BODY SIZES WITH ROOK LEANING MORE TO THE MUSCULAR SIDE WHILE MAL ON THE SLIMMER SIDE. HOW CAN A MAN WHO DOES WORKOUTS EVERYDAY, BREATHES THE FOREST 24/7, AND SURVIVED ALONE FOR DAYS AT 6 YEARS OLD NOT HAVE A HUGE BODY MASS

reached the tumblr limit </3 but here you go. i can fight (σ｀д′)σ my man's body my man's rights i fight for my man's rights (╬▔皿▔)╯ whoever calls rook lanky gets a free eye check up from me /j

#rook hunt #customer service #MY YELLINGS ARE A JOKE BUT THEY'RE ALL REAL!!!#HE'S NOT LANKY #COME ON TWST CRASHED ON ME BECAUSE I STARED AT HIM FOR A GOOD 2 MINUTES #doing my man justice until the animation and manga does him justice #my blog smells like him

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whinlatter · 6 months

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Wild card trick or treat: go nuts, friend.

Send an ask with “Trick or treat!” to the writer who reblogged this & you could receive a 3-sentence fic, drabble, headcanon, sneak-peek at a WIP, the last sentence they wrote, a new fic idea, random line from a fic, picture of their notebook, a deleted line they love, an idea for a sequel, something they’re researching, behind-the-scenes info on a published fic, or something else!

an excuse to post hinny deleted scenes??? 👀👀👀

i bit off more than i can chew with this delightful trick or treat challenge but i do have literally mountains of dumb harry/ginny letters that didn't make the cut in beasts so here's some deleted scenes/the two of them doing what they do best (flirting by post, shooting the shit). do i love these lines? not particularly, but i love these two and i couldn't find anywhere for this extremely dumb exchange to go in the fic so sharing it here in honour of halloween will have to do! thank you sm @turanga4!

Gin,

How’s your week? It’s shit here. Work’s shit, weather’s shit, house is shit. Today I also stood in literal dog shit and I couldn’t even scourgify my shoe because I was in a street full of Muggles so I had to wait until I was in the employee entrance at work to try clean it out. And then when I walked in someone said ‘what’s that smell’, and then someone else started retching and someone else started pointing and going ‘shit is that Harry Potter’. So then I had to try to pretend like it wasn’t me that had shit on my shoe until the room had cleared and I could finally sort it out. And now I’m worried the Prophet is going to run a story about how Harry Potter smells like shit, or start calling me The Boy Who Lived in His Own Filth, or bring those Potter Stinks badges out of retirement and send them into mass production, or something.

Yours (drowning in shit) -

Harry

—

The Boy Who Lived in His Own Filth (catchy),

I’m sorry your week has been so full of shit (literal and figurative). It does seem cosmically cruel that you can save the Wizarding World and still find yourself standing in dog shit. You’d think the universe would give you a pass, or something. Really, no treading in dog shit for the rest of your life seems the least the universe could do for you, given how much trouble you’ve gone to. I’m outraged on your behalf and willing to write to whatever necessary higher power to make this right.

It’s pretty shit here too. I miss you (yawn, lame, boring). When you inevitably go into hiding from the brutal Prophet expose of your personal hygiene habits you are very welcome to hang out with me up here/hide out in Hagrid’s cabin and help me try to explain to him the proper consistency of custard.

Yours in shitty solidarity,

Hagrid’s long suffering sous chef

—

Dear Hagrid’s long suffering sous chef/custard de-lumper in chief,

Thanks for the sympathy. I miss you too, a lot (yawn, lame, boring). Ron’s just asked if I’m writing to you ‘again’ like he doesn’t write to Hermione each time there’s a Y in the day. He just asked what we even talk about. So if he asks I told him we’re working on a big list of his flaws and most embarrassing moments to read out at his thirtieth and/or him and Hermione’s wedding, whichever comes first. Now he’s saying we’re ‘very childish’ and keeps trying to get a look at the parchment to check if I was lying or not. Oh wait no now he’s going up to his room to write Hermione about his very busy exciting day spent reading evidence logs and complaining about the canteen’s stingy pie portions. What a lucky girl.

Keep fighting the good custard fight.

Yours,

Harry

PS. Thanks for the offer but have to say no to hiding out in Hagrid’s hut. Fang’s poos are huge. I can’t risk it. Can I not crash in your dormitory? The steps up to the girls’ rooms don’t still turn into slides, do they?

—

Outrageous and scandalous attempt to wangle your way into my bed, Potter. Of course the steps still turn into slides. What, you thought because there was a war on and the castle got pounded to smithereens the relics of archaic magical paternalism designed to defend young witches’ virtues would somehow cease to function? How naive. Anyway, I for one am grateful for the slides, if they stop you bringing your stinky shit covered shoes into our dormitory.

Tell Ron I'm writing you absolute filth. Like debauched sexual propositions, truly eye-watering stuff. That said, if you think for a second I’m not going to back my dear brother in his campaign for generous pie portions then you’re out of your mind. Despite the sneering of critics (you), we Weasleys believe in the importance of hearty pie helpings, almost as much as we believe in the importance of perfect custard viscosity.

Yours,

Ginny

PS. You're literally not going to believe this - wrote this letter at Hagrid’s, was heading out and sealing it up to send and I literally stepped in one of Fang's enormous shits. What are the chances???

#hinny #this is extremely dumb content #but they're dumb jocks at heart so it works #literally just harry and ginny flinging poo jokes at each other across the scottish border #hinny fanfiction #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #beasts #trick or treat challenge

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biscuitblinkeu · 1 year

Text

Cards and the Sony Handcam [3]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

Word count: 4111

A/n: The slow build up is killing me, and it’s probably killing you readers more since I didn’t even give y’all a summary… Why does the word count get bigger every chapter 🗿

Chapter not proofread yet

……………………………………………………………………

“You really like coffee, don’t you,” you muse, having watched Roseanne the moment she got her drink inhale the aroma like it was a lifeline; your lips quirked into a fond smile.

In fact, she had made a beeline towards the café table closest to the entrance where she sat and promptly fell into the cushioned chair with a heavy sigh, as though all the energy was draining from her body in that instant. She gave you her exact order as you offered to get it for her, and stayed slumped there while you got the drinks.

She takes a sip of her coffee, sighing contentedly. “Yes, but I like it even more when I actually need it.”

“Tiring day?”

She nods, “And it’s not even over yet. I might need an iced coffee to-go.”

“Or, you could take a nap. I don’t think that much coffee is healthy.”

Roseanne gives you a look, as to say, ‘caffeine is what every college student functions on.’ She sighs, “I wish I could be able to, naps don’t exist for me.”

“You can’t sleep?” You ask, and Roseanne confirms with a nod. “Have you tried melatonin? That usually helps me.”

“Yes I have, it doesn’t work.”

“You're an insomniac?”

“Afraid so,” she says. You talk a little more. And despite being insomniac, she still gets that iced coffee. (And as she’s walking out of the café with it, she thinks everyone makes poor choices every once in a while. In hindsight, she shouldn’t be drinking another cup.)

You and Roseanne went your separate ways for now, as you would see eachother again in a few hours when you were moving in. Lisa had committed to the task of helping you move your things from your current room to Roseanne’s, along with the help of some of the Dance majors.

“I’ll be out of your hair in less than an hour, so stop the whining, please.” You say, irritated. Your roommate has been nagging in your ear about all the garbage bags with your clothes, shoes, and other things all in front of the door. Krystal huffs in response, rolling her eyes and smacking her gum as she plugs her AirPod back into her ears. You wish it stayed in her ear and she would stop taking the thing out just to bitch about something else.

It's not long before a pattern of knocks sound at your door; a familiar series of taps and you open your door to Lisa, Hyunjin, and Yeji.

“Hey!” Lisa greets, hugging you briefly before sliding past you as she whispers, “Ready to get out of this hellhole?” You make a dramatic roll of your eyes before looking at the man and woman in front of you, smiling mischievously. “How are my favorite twins?” Simultaneously, they groan and start a rant about how they only look similar and have the same last name but aren’t related in any way.

You laugh, letting them in and they make quick work of taking the bags and items you had lined by the doorway and putting them into a cart provided by the University. All your stuff is in the cart in fourty or so minutes, and you’re given a half-assed goodbye from Krystal as the door shuts behind you with a click.

“Thank you all for helping,” you say, trailing behind the Hwangs who push the cart, Lisa at your side.

“It’s no problem,” the Hwangs voiced at the same time.

“Why do you keep copying me?” Yeji, whined.

“I’m not!” Hyunjin shouted, irritated that they’re not really fighting the stereotype of twins. You and Lisa laughed, watching them babble on.

Lisa nudged you in the side, “Roseanne’s dorm is near the English Arts building, and it’s on one of the higher floors so we have to take the elevator.” Lisa tells you as you turn another hallway.

“That’s pretty convenient for her then, being next to the building most of her classes are all in. I usually have to take a short subway trip or walk across campus.”

“I know right? But if you think about it, after you move in, you won’t have to go out of your way for transportation since the Arts buildings are close together.” You hum.

After wheeling the cart through multiple hallways, walking across parking lots, and through a few doors you were in Roseanne’s residence hall. Like Lisa informed, you did have to take an elevator to the higher floors. When you got out on the fourth floor, you all walked along the numerous doors till you reached the end of the hallway.

It was one door, with no others adjacent to it, confirming that Roseanne had one of the bigger dorms. The bigger dorms were available for the top students who got in with their academics or accomplishments, the university even held raffles for the nicer dorms whenever a spot opened to the general population of students. (In short, if you were smart you had a higher chance of getting a bigger dorm.)

You and the two Hwangs jumped when Lisa started knocking very aggressively on Roseanne’s door. It was a succession of sharp blows, slaps, and thunks. The door was thrown open a few moments later by an agitated Roseanne. A few hairs were out of place and she looked very humorless, staring at Lisa with narrowed eyes and a tight smile.

“You totally ran all the way here,” Lisa stated, pointing a finger at Roseanne as a sly smile painted her lips. The blonde huffed, eyes drifting to the cart behind Lisa, to you, and then back to Lisa lazily.

“Yes, I ran. But do you have to do that every time?” She grumbled. Lisa grinned widely, nodding her head. She turned around and gestured to you. “Ready to have a new roomie?”

Roseanne smiled before nodding her head in the direction of the room and said, “I am. Come on then.”

Upon walking in, you observed, if anything, that your university definitely had a large portion of its budget go into the dorms. Roseanne’s dorm was very nice, almost the size of a small apartment or studio. And that’s not to say your previous dorm wasn’t nice, because it was, but right off the bat there were significant differences between yours and Roseanne’s.

Her dorm was like a suite, it was very clean and minimal. She had enough space for a small living room, and across from that there was a small kitchen, which she had extra appliances and things. There was a hallway, with a room on each side and at the beginning of it, a bathroom.

Roseanne led you to what would be your bedroom. “Here it is, there’s a closet over there, and then you can decide if you want to move that dresser or not…” she informed. “Let me know if you need any help, but I’ll be in my room doing assignments.”

“Thanks, Roseanne.” You tell her as she disappears into her room and you enter your own room, taking in its appearance. It was smaller than your shared dorm room with Krystal obviously; it had a bed (no sheets or anything), the dresser Roseanne spoke about before she left, and a closet. it was perfect, though, because you had your own space.

(Little did you know that that “own space” of yours would be almost nonexistent in the untold future.)

It was a team effort taking your stuff out the cart, out the bags and into its respective spot. You decided to use the dresser still in the room as you had a lot of clothes. You helped with the lightweight things and planned to help with your heavy items like your I-Mac and clothing bags, but got shooed away. Now you’ve just been observing. (Observing the rippling arm muscles and hard earned bodies of the dancers, that is.)

“Are you okay?” Lisa approaches with a laugh, eyeing you. She’s detected your perverse notions, you thought, that’s the reason she came over here. You pull your bottom lip from where it was caught between your teeth and look away from the dancers, smiling at Lisa innocently. “Just fine, but I can’t get over how attractive they are, like, it should be a sin.”

Lisa gasps, “Am I included? You know I’m the hottest, right?”

(I’m the hottest, okay?)

“Yes, you too,” you roll your eyes playfully, poking her in the rib. Half an hour later, they finished up and you were walking them out the door. You smiled at them. “Thank you guys so much, I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

“Of course.”

“See you soon,” Lisa said last, walking with the twins down the hallway. You closed the door with a sigh. What to do now?

…

Roseanne has left you to your devices for a few hours, and you’ve been somewhat quiet, so she flinches when she hears a knock on her door.

On the other hand, you, having reached the point of borderline boredom, caved in and decided to bother your new roommate. You had shuffled down the hallway to her open door and stood in her door frame, dressed similar to earlier except now wearing a baggy tee. “Hey, wanna watch a movie?”

Roseanne looks at the mess of papers in front of her, then back to you. “Sure, I could use a break.”

It’s funny that you fell asleep during the movie despite being the one that asked to watch it. Roseanne can’t even watch it though because your snores are snatching her attention from the movie every few seconds.

She bites the inside of her cheek, deciding to lightly tap on your shoulder. “(Y/n), hey, you’re snoring and I can’t hear the movie.”

You turn your head slightly, eyes still closed. “Then turn it up…” you murmur, pulling the cover over your shoulder.

“So you can yell at me for waking you because of the volume?”

You huff, dragging yourself upwards and throwing her an unamused look. “You woke me up anyway, so I don’t think that matters.”

Roseanne hums to herself, looking to the clock on the wall before turning her gaze to you again. “You look tired, why don’t we call it a night? You can take a shower.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great.” You agreed tiredly, hoping that when you’re under the shower water you don’t fall asleep. You take a quick shower, change, and brush your teeth before waking down the hallway to your room. Roseanne’s door was open so you yelled goodnight before shutting your own. Once in your room, you plop onto your bed face first, burying your nose deep in the pillow. Sleep comes quickly.

…

beep! beep! beep!

Roseanne’s eyes snap open in alarm at the screeching sound. Her body stilled, and she waited maybe seven seconds before she allowed herself to calm down. She remembered now; she had a roommate; someone living with her, and just in the room a little ways down and across the hallway.

beep! beep! beep!

She assumed that horrid noise was just your alarm going off— really loudly, at seven in the morning on a Sunday. Roseanne tossed around to lay on her stomach, pressing her pillow to her head. She screwed her eyes shut, planning to fall asleep again, knowing you’re probably awake now to turn it off.

“…”

beep! beep! beep!

Any second now, she tells herself, you’re going to turn it off.

beep! beep! beep!

“Are you serious…” Roseanne murmurs, sliding out of bed groggily. The beep!..beep!..beep! was harsh on her ears, as was the sunlight seeping through her half-open curtains. She runs a hand through her tangled hair, knowing if she were to come across a mirror it’d resemble a lion’s mane. Bedhead wasn’t kind to her, she liked to toss and turn in her sleep.

Roseanne shivered as she stepped into the hallway, the draft of the air conditioner creeping across her skin. She padded to your door, her pajama pants which were pooling at her feet slid against the carpet with each step. She knocked thrice, and when you didn’t answer she knocked twice before coming in, and just as she thought, you were still asleep, oblivious to your alarm going off and still dead to the world.

You weren’t even all the way on your bed, she noticed, you had one leg hanging over the side with one fuzzy sock on the foot outside of the covers, the other leg bent, and your arms sprawled out in different directions.

She has to feel around your bed for your phone, and the task was harder than she’d like to admit. You would roll over and toss and turn, shifting your phone’s position multiple times or burying it underneath your back or covers.

How can someone sleep like this?

Finally, Roseanne managed to find the damn phone and turned off the annoying alarm. You mumbled something incoherently before turning over in your bed. She put your cover back on you before leaving the room, deciding to “fake sleep” for a few more hours since she didn’t want to face the responsibilities of the day yet.

Unsurprisingly, you woke up half an hour later, completely aware you didn’t wake up with your timer. You yawned, stretching pleasurably before leaving the bedroom. It was quiet as a mouse, the only sounds coming from outside the dorm and the air conditioning. You tiptoed to the bathroom, failing miserably at washing your face and brushing your teeth quietly.

You hung out in the living room after eating a few pieces of toast and fruit because you can’t cook. If you really think about it, you’ve been surviving off of simple meals, microwave food, takeout, and Lisa’s cooking. (That’s embarrassing.)

Roseanne enters the kitchen three hours later, toothbrush in mouth as she pulls out a carton of orange juice. She entered so silently you were startled when you finally noticed that she was awake. “Jesus!”

“Good morning?…” She says with confusion, voice muffled by her toothbrush.

“Good afternoon,” you say back. It was twelve-something past morning. She slept till the early afternoon.

Later in the day, after lounging around the dorm with Roseanne you were called by Lisa, who said her, Jennie, and Jisoo were coming over.

Due to this, you and Roseanne had to go grocery shopping for snacks and other things low in her fridge. You got the essentials: milk, bottled water, bread, cheeses, more fruits, etc. (You would both pay for the total by splitting it as it was more convenient.) Then it was time to conquer the snack aisle, and bicker you did; over Oreo flavors.

“The original is the best kind, it’s a staple, it’s what everyone gets. Therefore—”

“Therefore you should try new flavors. Look,” she pulled a few boxes off the shelves, “they have some new flavors, there’s swedish fish, mint, s’mores, rice crispy, red velvet, birthday cake. What about mint?”

You physically recoil and Roseanne gives you a weird look. “Out of all the flavors you just listed, you picked that one?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” With a frown she holds up the Mint Oreo box, genuinely confused.

“What’s wrong with it is that—”

“Ladies,” a man interrupts. The smile on his face looked so incredibly strained, almost like a stretched rubber band. It’s then you realize he’s been standing behind the two of you to get a Oreo box himself since you’ve taken up this section of the aisle. He wrings his hands together, eyeing the number of Oreo boxes you both hold, and through his teeth he says, “Why don’t you just get both?”

“Oh.” Roseanne said dumly, heat creeping up her neck. She turns to you, “Well, let’s get both then.” You agree wordlessly, feeling mortified as well.

After that experience, shopping for snacks was smooth sailing and you were out of the store in record time. You went back to your dorm and put everything in its respective places and Roseanne took care of the snack platters.

And as she took care of the snacks— putting them in organized bowls and arrangements, you watched her with difficulty. She was color coding the candies; lining up the Oreos in rows; making sure no kernels fell in the bowl. When she shifted the charcuterie board’s position for the nth time, you flopped back onto the couch and let out a whine. “Roseanne, that’s the 6th time you’ve arranged it! I swear it looks fine.”

She gives you a withering look, not quite believing you, and her hands fidget at her sides for a moment more before she gives up, plopping into a chair. She only gets like this when she needs something to do. Never does she not have something to occupy her, and when she does it’s so incredibly difficult to relax.

You affirm that the board looks fine once more before unpausing the tv, though a shiver induced by the AC passes through you and you instinctively reach for the cover laying folded across the couch next to you.

“That’s not a blanket,” Roseanne speaks up, making you pause and pull your hand back and look her way. “It’s not?” you question, staring at the soft checkered pattern.

“I mean, it is. But it’s not supposed to be used.”

You blink. “What’s the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can’t be used?”

“It’s for decoration, of course.”

You throw your arms back, amused but slightly exasperated. You’re cold!

“I’m joking,” she says. (She’s not. Its only real purpose was to sit there and look nice.) “You can use it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

An obnoxious pattern of knocks sound at the door and you flinch. You’ve come to know that it was Lisa becuase of what you heard earlier. Roseanne gets up to answer the door.

You hear the voices of Lisa and Jennie along with a new voice and sit up, smiling as they walk in. “Hey guys,” you greet and they return. You tilt your head at the brunette. “Jisoo, I presume?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/n).” You just about say the same before falling into conversation with them.

“You won’t believe what we saw in the hallways on the way here— some guy was running around butt naked in desperate need of something to cover up. I bet he got locked out by some friends or something.” Lisa says, plopping down next to you.

You grimace. “I would be mortified. I wouldn’t show my face ever again.” Roseanne scrunches her nose up, agreeing with you. “Well, now that we’re all here let’s eat snacks and play some games. And by games I mean Poker and whatever else I have.”

You’re all seated around the glass coffee table in front of the couches, snack bowls at one end of the table up for grabs anytime and cards laid in front of you. You’ve dragged a beanbag chair into the room and occupied it. Lisa and Rosé sit adjacent to you on opposite sides of each other and Jennie and Jisoo sit with their legs criss-crossed on the other end.

Uno turns out to be a disaster. Everyone was making up their own rules and confusing the reverse and skip cards. Charades was the funniest thing you’ve ever witnessed. And Poker, it turns out, was fun.

It turns out to be much easier to understand than you anticipated. Three cards are face up on the table, followed by another and the following, as explained by Roseanne. Jisoo and Lisa chime in with some pertinent facts and other oddball observations. A stack of plastic chips is placed in front of you when you demonstrate that you have a reasonable grasp and pledge to ask for assistance if necessary. They all promise you that betting is far more enjoyable. Lisa appears delighted that she won't run out of chips first. Lisa is quickly running out of chips and Jisoo and Roseanne have exhausted all of their chips, you all turn to look at the large stack in front of Jennie.

"Shark! She's a shark!" Lisa gripes, folding her arms and throwing her cards down on the table as she loses another hand.

"I haven't played before!" Jennie protests. "It's not exactly hard!"

"How are you winning then?" You whine, being in the same position as Jennie as a newbie. She’s a much better poker-newbie than you.

"How the hell do you do that?" Lisa asks exasperated.

"Math," Jennie says simply.

"Math?" Jisoo wonders aloud and Jennie turns to her.

"Yes, math. It's all a matter of probability. Isn't that how you do it?"

Your jaw has fallen to the floor, much like Lisa’s and Roseanne’s.

Jisoo looks at her with drawn brows. "Poker...and math?"

“Hah— you voluntarily do math outside of anything school related? I’m not surprised, smartass,” you say exasperated. Jennie is a law student after all, she was probably the smartest person in the room. Jennie laughs at your comment, quieting down when she feels a brush against her knee.

“That’s actually amazing to me Jen,” Jisoo says, smiling at the cat-eyed woman. “I really admire that about you, you know.”

“It’s really nothing,” she replies, grinning sheepishly. At their prolonged eye contact, Jennie blushes, and just knowing the rosey color was blooming on her cheeks, she looked down, letting her hair fall like a curtain over her face. That grin of hers transformed into a wide and gummy smile.

“Another game?” Roseanne says, eying Jennie with mischief. Jennie looks up and meets her eyes and the mortified expression she made was comical to Roseanne. She wasn’t subtle at all, that was something Jennie knew— something everyone knew…except Jisoo.

…

“Bye guys! This was fun, let’s do it again sometime.” You say sending off everyone.

After everyone leaves, you and Roseanne have the unanimous decision to clean up. It was a comfortable silence, you and her shuffling about with the low hum of her speaker’s music. You took the liberty of packing up the poker chips and cards into its box and clearing the table of any dishes. Roseanne was in the kitchen wiping down the counters and throwing away empty soda liters and takeout containers.

After you fixed up the pillows and dragged the beanbag chairs back into the closet you met Roseanne in the kitchen.

“Need some help?” You asked, eyeing the amount of dishes sitting in the bubbly water. You make a mental note to buy paper plates and cups.

“That would be nice. I could wash and rinse them and you could dry? Or vice-versa.”

“I’m cool with drying,” you say, moving around her to the other side. You leave out the part that you’re terrified of soggy food underneath your fingernails. It doesn’t look like she has any gloves either. You both begin the tasks then, and after she washed you dried the dishes she handed to you. Occasionally, your arms and elbows brushed together.

You finished drying while Roseanne hopped in the shower. You were startled awake, having fallen asleep on the couch, by a tap on your shoulder. Your roommate gave you an apologetic smile. “You can get in now.”

You nod, dragging yourself up. This was why you weren’t a night owl. The drowsiness you felt at night was a crazy difference from how you were at the crack of dawn.

You get out of the shower, towel hanging around your neck, and Roseanne slides past you. “Goodnight,” you say, stifling a yawn as you stumble to your room. You lean on the doorframe as you wait for Roseanne to finish brushing her teeth. She comes out and heads to her own room, pausing in the doorway much like you. “Good night, (Y/n).”

Your doors shut with a click and you plop down ungracefully on your bed, lazily kicking your sweats off. You're out like a light in five minutes. On the other side of the hallway, Roseanne is at her desk, where she pulls out her ragged camcorder. Sleep doesn’t come easily to her and when it does it isn’t the peaceful kind, hence why she stays up as long as she can. That is because she is afraid of her dreams.

She sets the camcorder on the surface in front of her and simply stares at it: the gray, nineteen-eighties camera her stepdad gave her for her twelfth birthday that still works till this day. It was the camera that saved her once, and in the end it will be what kills her.

Would you like to continue?

#biscuitblinkeu #blackpink x reader #fanfic #blackpink #fem reader #rosé x reader #rosé x fem!reader #park chaeyoung x reader #park chaeyoung x fem!reader #Tragedy.Biscuit

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