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elliekima · 2 years

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This Love is Alive (Back from the Dead)

Pairing: Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x gender-neutral reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death

Word Count: 2.7k words

Notes: Reader is AFAB gender neutral with they/them pronouns and was adopted by Reginald Hargreeves along with the original seven umbrellas. They have abilities similar to heartrenders in the Grishaverse. Their powers include control over one’s heart, lungs, and stomach, and other major organ systems (although the brain can be rather tricky).

I was blown away by the response to my first tua post, I really don't post my writing much but I just love sparrow!ben so much and this word vomit was the result. I hope you guys enjoy it too <333

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You took in the view of the half-destroyed farmhouse for the last time before closing your eyes and mentally preparing yourself for the next jump. If it was anything like the last one, you shuddered, your stomach may never recover. Of course, at least this time you were using an actual device made for time travel—even if it was weirdly shaped like a briefcase, seriously couldn’t they use a watch or something? It was so much less bulky and easier to carry around, not to mention harder to lose—instead of relying on your brother's dubious time travel abilities.

Klaus’ sudden interruption to grab a hat was dramatic, in the way he usually was, but even you could admit it helped lighten the mood. ‘No matter what happens,’ you thought to yourself, ‘at least you had your family.’ You ignored the pain that came with the thought of Ben, the one sibling you would be leaving behind this time. Even if he died years ago, which left you grieving and heartbroken, you knew he was still around. Unlike the rest of your siblings, you knew Klaus wouldn’t lie about seeing Ben. You even asked him once, about a month after Ben’s death, if you could speak to him or send him a message somehow.

Klaus, his eyes serious and clear for the first time since Ben’s death, responded, “He misses you too y/n, he’s standing right next to you actually. Sometimes he wanders over to check on you and make sure you’re doing okay.” He paused after that, head cocked and you just knew he was listening to Ben speak, which was almost enough to break you until you were suddenly swept into Klaus’ arms. It was unexpected but nice, even if his next words made you want to break down and start throwing things, “He wants you to move on y/n. I know it sounds impossible and crazy but you can’t let yourself obsess over his death and wither into nothing. You were meant for so much more than dad’s shitty plans for us. Keep breaking hearts y/n, never stop.” You laughed at that, hysterical and relieved because Ben was really there with you. You held on to Klaus as laughter turned into sobs because it was only then that it really sunk in, he was gone and there was nothing you could do about it.

You shook your head to clear the thoughts of him, you processed his first death a while back and there was plenty of time to process his second ghostly death once you were back home in your little apartment with plenty of tequila. Finally, Five finished checking the briefcase’s settings and made eye contact with you. He gave you a weak smile, and you couldn’t help but return it. The smile was forced—you’re pretty sure it looked more like a grimace, really—but it seemed to reassure him. He reached for the briefcase and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before the (hopefully) final jump.

The whooshing sound of time travel—and wasn’t that weird? You thought you and your siblings being traumatized child superheroes was as crazy as it got before adding the thought of alternate timelines and apocalypses into the mix—filled the air around you. It was as unpleasant as ever, although significantly less bumpy thanks to the briefcase. You mentally cheered your stomach on for surviving the trip this time around, and hoped it would keep up the good work. Less than a minute later you felt yourself landing on a familiar carpet, thankfully without the need to puke everywhere.

You stood there, eyes pressed shut, letting out the breath you were holding. You tried to force them open, but fear overtook you. For a moment, you wondered if you should even bother opening your eyes at all. You spent the last year or so running around trying not to die, first from the apocalypse, then from the bigoted idiots of the 1960s, and then from another apocalypse. Standing here, in what you hoped was your old house, felt too good to be true.

You could hear your siblings groaning and trying to orient themselves after the jump, but still couldn’t open your eyes yet and risk the chance that something went wrong. So your coping mechanism was avoidance, maybe if you never opened your eyes, you would never see what fucked up timeline you and your siblings landed in this time. You weren’t safe yet, not when you needed to fight again but holy shit you were so fucking tired and—

“What… what day is it?” Luther asked.

At his words, your eyes snapped open before your brain could convince you it was a bad idea and you took in your surroundings. It looked like your old house, but as you scanned the room, your instincts started to itch, warning you that something was wrong. It didn’t seem too bad though, so you weren’t overly panicked yet but you refused to let your guard down. Suddenly, your eyes locked onto a painting. You weren’t sure, since you never really paid attention to the art your father collected, but you could’ve sworn that painting used to be a castle instead of a mountain. Across you, Five scrambled for the newspaper in front of him and his next words shook you out of your stupor.

“It’s April 2, 2019,” he said, a smug grin already starting to stretch across his face, “the day after the apocalypse.”

The rest of your siblings started celebrating but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in your head, the voice telling you that there was something wrong. But Five was already heading to the living room, Allison was crying and talking about Claire, and Vanya’s looked dead on her feet. They all looked so happy, and that was enough to stop you from saying something about it. ‘Let them have this moment,’ you thought. After all, if they needed to run again, at least they had this one moment of absolute relief to keep them going.

You let yourself get caught up in their energy, swinging an arm around Diego and following the rest of your siblings into the living room. However, the good mood that was beginning to bloom died at the sight of the painting that hung over the mantlepiece. Diego noticed it too, asking the rest of your siblings if they could see it too. God, you wish you hadn’t. You stared at his face, one you thought you’d never see again. You couldn’t help but compare it to the last time you saw him, desperately searching the painting for any differences from his last appearance in the theatre in 2019 when Vanya first ended the world.

In the background, you noticed your father rising from his seat in some shadowed corner and your siblings arguing with him. Fuck the old man, all you could do was stare at the man you love so much. Granted, the two of you never really got around to admitting your feelings for each other before he died and other than that one instance with Klaus, he refused to be a messenger for any conversations between the two of you. The hope you’ve been pushing back started to grow again until you realized that there must be a reason Ben’s painting was there. After all, in your timeline, the painting was of Five, who disappeared one day and they all thought was dead. If Ben’s painting was in his place, who knows what could have happened to him. You began to spiral until a hauntingly familiar voice interrupted your impending breakdown.

“Dad, who the hell—” Ben starts, before pausing as he took in the scene in the living room. He stared at you, looking gutted and vulnerable, “…Y/n?”

You turned to stare at him the moment you heard his voice, as if on autopilot. His voice was a little deeper, but you guess that’s what happens when it’s been 14 years since you last spoke to him. You breathed out his name in shock and he started to smile, brittle and hopeful, before your brain restarted. You ran towards him and he ran to you, the two of you colliding in the middle of the living room. Your siblings paused their argument with your dad to stare at the new developments but fuck them, Ben was here and he was alive and that’s all that matters to you. He wrapped his arms around you and started spinning you around, your hair flying around you while you squeezed him back just as hard. You laughed freely for the first time since this whole mess started as you stared at him, categorizing all the changes. His hair was no longer gelled back like when you were kids, instead, he wore it spiky on top and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through it and mess it up. He lost the softness on his face from back when you were teenagers, growing into his features and you felt yourself fall a little more in love with him. He set you down and you buried your face in his chest—that was another change, when did he get so built?—and it was all you ever dreamed about since that fateful mission when you were 17.

Distantly, you heard your family erupt into screaming behind you but all you could focus on was the man in your arms. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him, the detergent mom uses, and—is that some new fancy cologne? Regardless, it was the most comfort you’ve felt in years and you’d rather kickstart another apocalypse than let go of him.

It seemed like Ben felt the same, because his arms only tightened around you and he tucked his face onto the top of your head. Suddenly, you realized you’ve been too busy saving the world to take a proper shower (So what, at least you made it out alive! The 60s had shit bath products anyway,) and tried to pull away. You heard a disgruntled sigh above you before he whispers, “Stop squirming y/n, you may smell like shit but it's the first time I’ve seen you in 13 years. Besides, I’ve seen you covered in blood and other gross shit after missions, you’ve had worse moments than this.”

Your mind was still fuzzy from seeing Ben, but something about his words seemed to alert your instincts. You replayed the moment in your head, it has been 13 years since he died but wouldn’t he have seen you while he was hanging around Klaus? But if he was standing here, alive, then he wouldn’t have died and hung around with Klaus all the time. You would’ve seen each other, grown up together the way you always planned to. The dots were starting to connect, and you hated the picture it painted. You stiffened and tried to pull away again, intent to ask him what he meant, when Diego’s voice cut through the bubble you found yourselves in.

“Woah woah wait, who the hell are you weirdos?” he exclaimed as he stared at the people filing in behind Ben. They were studying your siblings behind you but seemed to glance at the pair of you standing off to the side. The way they stared at you, all wide-eyed wonder and fragile hope seemed familiar. It was the same look you gave Ben, not the mention the look your siblings gave him too. Instantly, the dots fully connected in your mind and your heart filled with dread. You let your arms fall away from him as you stared at him, trying to keep your emotions from showing on your face but failing miserably. “You’re not my Ben, are you?” you asked, voice shaking.

He released you slowly, almost like he wanted to hold on to you and never let go, but the look on your face was enough to give him pause. Tension was building between the two families, making him tense up further as everyone seemed to stare at the two of you. He looked away from the rest of the room and stared at you, brown eyes reflecting your pain back at you as he said, “No, I don’t think I am. You aren’t my y/n either.”

It was a statement, one that almost broke you, but your father’s booming voice behind you gave you enough strength to pull yourself together. ‘We can break down later, once not!Ben isn’t in front of you and you aren’t surrounded by your siblings and strangers,’ you told yourself, facing your father.

He was ranting about your siblings being crazy assholes in 1963, which was fair because you were assholes to him, but in your defense, he was a shitty father and he looked and acted exactly the same way, how the hell were you supposed to be civil? You couldn’t believe he hated you all enough to just, not adopt you as children anymore. He even changed your name! Where the fuck did ‘Sparrow’ come from anyway? Distantly, you wondered how that affects the timeline but you filed that away for another day. First, you needed to regroup, preferably after a nice long bath.

You steeled yourself to join your siblings’ argument against your father and his new children but a hand brushing yours made you pause. You turned back to face him, you blinking your tears away as you studied him. This wasn’t the boy you grew up with, but you could read him just as easily as you read your Ben. His face was set in practiced neutrality, but you could see his eyes pleading with you to listen. He tugged you back towards him and whispered in your ear, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I watched you die once in my arms and there’s no fucking way I’m letting you walk out of my life again. If your siblings are anything like mine, this won’t end well. I won’t let anything happen to you, never again y/n. I’d sooner unleash the eldritch horrors on the world than lose you again. So please—” he took a breath, eyes meeting yours “meet me at our cafe when this is done?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. The rest of the room seemed to fade around you, all you could see and hear and feel was him, both the Ben you know but somehow not. You knew this was a test, and you were desperate to get it right. He may not have been the Ben you grew up with, but he still was Ben, wasn’t he? Sure, he grew up with another set of siblings—’another version of you,’ your brain supplied—but in the end, he was still the same person. Despite the thousand different scenarios running through your mind, hope started to build in your chest: all-consuming, traitorous, and pretty damn inconvenient. You gave him a tiny smile and whispered back, hoping to all the deities out there that you were right, “On the corner of 9th and 22nd? I’ll be there after kicking your ass babe.”

His growing smile turned into a familiar smirk and he opened his mouth, ready to retort when you quickly tiptoed and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you Squid Boy,” you added teasingly before hurrying back to your family, grinning at his blush. “Bring it on heartbreaker,” he replied with a wink.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you moved to stand next to Allison, ignoring the looks your siblings shot you. Besides, Luther was looking pretty damn smitten with the pretty girl standing near Ben, you’d get them to bully him instead. You grinned at Ben from where you stood, readying your hands together as he unleashed his tentacles, both groups of siblings facing off against each other.

#ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #sparrow!ben x reader #sparrow!ben #sparrow ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves x y/n #the umbrella academy #the sparrow academy #tua

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frameacloud · 2 years

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The above image is an excerpt of pages 172-173 from Kate Bornstein’s book Hello Cruel World: 101 Alternatives to Suicide for Teens, Freaks, and Other Outlaws. New York: Seven Stories, 2006.

I’d describe it as a survival handbook particularly meant for queer teens and other people who don’t fit in and so are fighting for their lives in a hostile, bigoted society. Some of the book’s suggestions for things to do that are better than destroying yourself seem strange or scary. Throughout, though, the book’s one rule is “Don’t be mean.” That’s important context, because that shows this excerpt about being a frightening monster is NOT saying to be cruel or harm others.

I recommend the book to anyone who thinks that sounds useful. Here is the book’s WorldCat listing, which you can use to see if a copy is available at a library near you. Or you can buy it as a print book or eBook directly from the publisher’s site. Or from whatever bookstore you like; bonus points if you can support a small local bookstore that’s worker-owned, feminist, or queer, since those are good community spaces to keep around. I’m not affiliated.

Transcript of the excerpt:

The heading says

“52. BECOME A MORE FRIGHTENING MONSTER THAN THE ONE THEY THINK YOU ARE.”

The icons under the heading indicate that this 52nd alternative to suicide has:

a low-medium difficulty level (as tricky as riding a cow)

a medium safety rating (three hearts, two skulls)

a medium-high effectiveness rating (three umbrellas)

a morality rating of G for General (meaning it’s something you could do in front of your grandma)

“Keywords: mischief, delight, magic”

For decoration, there’s an antique illustration of a costumed dancer wearing a horse tail and mane.

The body text says:

“If people knew the real you, would they run screaming from the room? Well, whatever kind of monster they think you are, it’s probably safe to say, you’re really much more terrifying. Sometimes we like to look freaky. Sometimes we like to blend in. It’s our choice. But shifting from one to another keeps people from figuring out who or what we are.

“The cultural monster here at the turn of the century is the shape-shifter. Being an outsider isn’t what makes us monstrous. We are monsters because we’re so good at either revealing our monstrosity, or keeping it hidden when we want to.

“It’s when we become something the über-culture can’t quite put its finger on that we know we’re being a worse monster than the one they think we are. In this culture, that’s a crime. You have to match your photo ID. So, go ahead. Be a chameleon. Enjoy yourself. Play safe, and try not to scare the little children.

“EXTRA CREDIT: Write an essay, poem, recipe, film or performance piece on this question: if a culture’s monsters reflect its greatest fears, what does it say about über-American culture that its monsters are for the most part shape-shifters and mutants?”

Image description ends.

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keiwook · 11 months

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BUS STOP ༄ TK

synopsis after hanging out with keita, you decided to go home only to see that it’s pouring and you’re now stuck at the bus stop with him

pairing keita x gn!reader

genre fluff

notes this was honestly so cute, thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy this <3 i miss seokeita too :(

masterlist<3

laughing at keita’s jokes and catching up was a great way to spend your weekend. after the laughter died down, he leaned back into the bench “i’m so glad the weather is great today!”

you nod in agreement as the sun shone giving you both a golden tint as birds chirp in the distance. wouldn’t it be such a shame for something unpredictable like bad weather to ruin your planned out day with keita?

as you saw the sun setting, you figured it was time to bid your farewells. “time flew so fast.” keita spoke up, gazing at the beautiful sunset. maybe it was true that time went by quickly with the people you love, when you’re truly in the moment. he got up, offering a hand indicating it was time to walk back to the bus stop. you grabbed his hand, standing up and wiping invisible dust off your clothes.

as you walked back together, there were still loads of stories keita had to tell and he wanted to make sure you got to hear them in person. so he used the periods walking to tell them. they were fun bursts of energy as expected from keita; neverending enthusiasm which you loved.

though you were walking rather leisurely, the day slowly sunk into night and to your luck, you missed the bus. watching in the distance as it drives off. you try to chase it but it already went far.

keita pat your back, thinking of other solutions. but as the light bulb on his head lit up, the sounds of light drizzle became audible. soon, the drops painted the pavement around the small and covered bus stop.

this wasn’t so bad, right? well, none of you had brought an umbrella and was now stuck there. checking your phone to call up an uber, it didn’t turn on as it had ran out of battery earlier. keita looked at you with an empathetic smile, a bit of guilt because he delayed you.

but it was okay, the person with you wasn’t some rando. it was keita, and you’d do anything to spend more time with him. even if it were tricky situations like this. all you could do now was wait another hour or so in darkness, the only lights illuminating were the ones covering the bus stop. though you weren’t alone.

as the temperatures decrease and the moon took over the sun, overlapping the coldness given by the rain. you were freezing, both of you were absolutely chilled to the bone. as much as keita wanted to do a romantic gesture such as wrap his jacket around you; he didn’t have a jacket with him.

all he was wearing was a sweater that you gave him for his birthday a year ago, he cherished it alot. maybe it was his favourite item in his closet, always reaching out to it whenever he could. as an attempt to keep eachother warm; he grabbed your hands, rubbing them with his to spark some heat. you smiled, it wasn’t much but it was something.

the temperature got worse as the rain started to pour even more, causing you to hug yourself in attempt to get even the slightest bit of warmth. keita saw this and was absolutely heartbroken. maybe it wouldn’t happen if he told the story faster or walked a bit quicker.

he wanted to apologise for making you miss your stop and for making you wait in the cold but his mouth was numb. pulling the sleeves over his hands in shapes of sweater paws, he continued holding your hands. it was a bit better than without the sleeves.

he saw your quivering lips, moving his sweater paws now to your cheeks, cupping your face. flushing a cute tint of pink upon his action, using the weather as an excuse for your red face.

yes, it wasn’t the most ideal situation but it was a situation that made you closer to keita. as you wait, head on his shoulder and bodies huddling together to make sure you both got enough warmth and away from any drops of the rain. you’re glad you missed the bus to this.

taglist @bruhiamistake @trashhdez @chxrrymxxnlight @haesunflower @big-uwu-stan @gnwookie @yjhcloud

here, if you want to join the taglist !

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cathalbravecog · 4 months

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if all the cog managers were darkners. what object would they be based on?

gonna get to answering asks today as my inbox has looooooaaaads of them piled up (to me) - starting off with something easy and Very Autistic

honestly, i sometimes forget that darkners are objects in the lightner world in canon. i don't forget *forget*, but i put it in the back of my mind, since in DPAU this idea is changed, and doesn't work exactly as it does in canon.

but, still, it's an interesting idea!

for a lot of managers, i think they even be their drops. but let's think of possible items that could represent them! i'll be going over ONLY the 1.3 managers to save myself some time. if you're curious about anyone else, just ask!!

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let's start off with street managers, in order! also, these are color coded just so i personally see them a bit better.

duck shuffler: toy slot machine or just slot machine in general? i'd say duck SOMETHING but he does have a slot machine for his eyes.

deep diver: while she doesn't have one, i think he could be an diving air tank. or, if we go with a simpler approach - just a diving helmet!

gatekeeper: with a simpler approach:tm:, a knight helmet! or a knight toy. (mostly just going with the fact that as far as we currently know, darkners tend to be represented by smaller items that can be picked up easily.)

bellringer: this one's simple - a bell! maybe even a themed one of some sort? i know someone who collects bells from various places, mostly tourist stops. they sometimes come decorated in themes related to the area they were bought in. maybe he's a london based one, since, Big Ben and all. miniature big ben toy, maybe, lol

mouthpiece: an old crank wall phone or a cradle phone! (the type of phone she is! i had to research phones when designing phone-in, her grandkid. i'm no by means an expert and my names could be wrong - but from my old reference pieces here's what those look like because i spent hours on these STILL UNFINISHED reference gathers and i need to show something from them off)

as a bonus, phone-in, aka collin dama, my oc: he'd be a brick phone or a radiophone.

BONUS BONUS, tony trapezoid dama, another oc: they'd be a touch-tone-telephone. (I THINK ITS TIME FOR YOU TO KNOW THE AWFUL TRUTH , THE TRUTH ME AND THE TRUTH ABO - *gets hit in the face with a pie and gets dragged off-stage*)

firestarter: so, growing up in a firefighter family i could probably name some other objects he could maybe be but let's be honest he'd just probably be his firefighter helmet or a firefighter mask but also i fogor anything else because i ams very smarts. or they could be a box of matches.

treekiller: this one's simple as well - he'd be an axe! thought about toy vehicles that destroy trees - but it'd make less sense for him especially seeing as he does have a literal axe on his head. do you guys think spruce would be a trucker type guy in his free time

featherbedder: i think they'd be either a pillow (with an owl print?), or a soft owl plushie! something cuddly you'd keep on your bed and just snzzzznznz....

and now the kudos managers!

prethinker: even out of character i will be frostbite-type mean to brian because it's funny so he'd be one of those fuckass display brains in a jar :sob:. ok in all seriousness either something like that or maybe the smart cap he drops!

bonus, bright spark, another oc of mine's: since she's his sister she gets a mention. she'd just be a lightbulb since she literally is one

rainmaker: little tricky since you can't just have a Cloud - but a plushie one (i own a cloud shaped pillow irl) could work! maybe an umbrella...? trying to give alternative options since "plushie of:" is really easy to do. (works best for animals tho)

witch hunter: he's the mgr i know the least about(im sorry prester fans) so this one's a bit hard for me. a toy cauldron since his mouth is supposed to be one? maybe a stake or a pitchfork? or an unlit torch. or a lit one if you're fancy some arson!

multislacker: the cathal! quite easy - a crt television !! even with my url i cannot think of anything else. he is a crt tv and that's that. they have other design elements i could gush about but sadly, i have no other ideas. i just remembered my old crt that i didnt even use is like in the basement . i am so sorry cathal we'll get you outta there one day

major player: ohh, this is another one i think of when i say they could just be their drops (dave's rose) - but he could also be a cymbal like his hat or just a keyboard. i'd say a piano but pianos are fucking massive. maybe a vinyl disc of rick astley's never gonna give you up

plutocrat: hmm, from just what he wears , a monocle or a cigar. maybe a model of pluto (the dwarf planet). a laundered stash of cash, i dunno! cosmo's a fun character but i cannot think of anything else he would be.

chainsaw consultant: well, he's a chainsaw isn't he? his hat could also work!

pacesetter: oh graham would absolutely be his shredder guitar. no questions asked. maybe his shades? perhaps some other sports equipment - but it doesn't scream "him" as much as the other things. i can't make deeper gram pacer test jokes do i look like i'm american to you all i know r the memes

extra bonus for the crawler, aka crowley cents, another oc: he's based on the centipede family scolopendridae - giant centipedes that people call nightmarous monsters but i love very dearly they are cutie pies thanks for coming to my ted talk!! he'd be a model of one. can't pin point a specific one, he's based on several ones very loosely + has inspo from centiscorch.

...aaaand that's it! i'd go into some others but this is long enough now :p

#[answered]#mgrs

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pynkhues · 9 months

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Were you a Sex in the City fan? I do feel like a show for the girls that are in the early to mid late 20s trying to figure it out. Is kind of missing in the market currently. Anyways if you’ve seen it there was a reboot with a whole new cast. What would your fan cast look like?

I actually watched Sex and the City in its entirety for the first time during the lockdowns, anon! While there are definitely parts of it that have aged badly and is very deserving of criticism, there's a lot that's aged surprisingly well too, and even as a first time viewer, I could see why it was the pop culture juggernaut it was. I really enjoyed watching it! Although maybe not enough to watch And Just Like That, haha (after all, what is Sex and the City without all four women?)

It really does feel like there's a bit of a gap these days in TV when it comes to mid-late 20s/early 30s women figuring life out. I feel like the closest we've had for a while was Broad City and The Bold Type, but even those have both been finished for a while, and are decidedly their own animals in focus, tone and style. While I liked it a lot too, I'd also say that The Bold Type never fully knew where it wanted to sit in terms of audience which really shaped a lot of the components of the story.

But yes! A Sex and the City reboot! I love it when you guys ask me to fancast stuff, haha.

Okay, let's start with Carrie:

I hadn't seen Ashley Park in anything until a few months ago, and have since had the triple hit of seeing her in Joy Ride, Beef and now the new season of Only Murders in the Building, and I just think she's so great. She's so, so charming and funny and I think really nails that complicated mix of high strung but also kind of loose and flirty that Sarah Jessica Parker nailed in Sex and the City. I think she could bring so much to Carrie and add after Joy Ride in particular, I'd love to see her lead something again.

Miranda's kind of a tricky one in some ways - you need someone who can find that middle ground between snark and genuine vulnerability, and I think that's really an area Ritu shines in between The Umbrella Academy and Polite Society. Plus she's delightfully watchable, and I think a role like Miranda could really stretch her skills (especially because I don't think Polite Society let her actually do all that much).

Fun fact: Charlotte's lowkey my fave from Sex and the City. I know a lot of people find her annoying, but I actually think she had one of the most fulfilling arcs on the show (I'm a bit of a sucker for characters who get what they want only to realise it's not what they need), and she also reminds me of a close childhood friend who I don't see as often as I want because we live on opposite ends of the country, haha. I looooved Charithra in Bridgerton, and I think she plays naivety without ignorance, and that sweetness without being saccharine really well. Plus I think she could be a really good balancer between Ashley and Ritu.

Okay okay okay, hear me out: Samantha is supposed to be older than the other girls, and one of the things I think is so ingenious about the original casting of Samantha is how they cast an actress who was basically a jobbing actress who'd worked across TV and genre movies for decades but became famous / a sex symbol for a few roles across raunch comedies. While Jessica doesn't quite have a Porky's on her resume, she comes from a similar background of tv, low budget horror, and a few meatier roles that show she can really act, and I've always had a soft spot for her, and tbh, I think she'd kill it.

The guys aren't as fun, haha, but mmm, I kind of like the thought of John Cho for Mr Big? An older guy with the right amount of suave that you can believe Ashley Park would be on the hook for, and maybe someone like Anthony Ramos for Aidan? I'm less sure about them, haha.

#thank you!#these are always fun to think about haha #it's been so funny seeing ashley park pop up in so many things #she's so much fun #she kind of makes me want to watch emily in paris which is a feat in itself haha #sex and the city #i can't remember how i was tagging these #lets go with:#recastings #welcome to my ama

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 11 months

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Misstep - a Malevolent Fanfic

Hastur comes back from a failed mission in a terrible mood.

Arthur and John playing jazz make it worse.

Written with @sepiabandensis

(Part of the Surrogate series. Takes place after Futile.)

AO3

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There is something terrifying about an empty universe.

Matter without life, minimal heat, barely enough vibration to keep it all from drifting to disconnected atoms. There aren’t many places like this. Hastur only knows of six; timelines where the worst thing went wrong, the ultimate thing went sour, and through volition or happenstance, that universe met its end.

These are places Outer Gods did not go. If there is the barest hope, the smallest reason that keeps them away, he has to try to find it.

This particular timeline is… tricky. It was ended by choice, not chance, and it is not empty. That which ate all things still is.

There is some thing which dwells among these stars, vast and dark and desolate. Some thing which follows an unknowable web as it moves from empty world to empty world, seeing everything, seeing nothing.

Some thing that hungers and hunts, some thing that slew and spiraled and shriveled all until the circus that is life went out.

Everyone avoids this universe. This last thing, this final thing, could be neither comprehended nor fought.

But it can also only be in one place at a time, and Hastur is desperate.

It could have left something of value behind.

Hastur is very quiet. As quiet as he can be, investigating dead planets, digging through rubble of ancient life. He eyes an umbrella with disgust (the fuck was even the point of that thing), finding bones buried so deep they’d been compressed, and in spite of his own will and wards, grows achingly and chillingly aware of how alone he is.

There isn’t anything here he can use, after all.

His hopes fade, and his fear for Faroe grows. There is nothing to wield, or solder into armor, or waft like hideous incense to keep Kayne away.

Faroe. He must keep looking. He has five more years. He must not lose hope—though every failed attempt to find some solution grows that fear like wildfire.

He will check other timelines next, but he is done with this one. With relief, Hastur goes to leave.

With shock, he finds he’s not alone.

The some thing that ate it all is tiny, and quiet, and so sudden and so much that he has no chance to comprehend his looming end.

He gasps, and is consumed.

Not consumed

Held

Floating

In terror

Let him go, Jon. Can’t you see why he’s here?

I see. I’m hungry.

You still won’t eat me, though.

How, how can there be fondness in a nonplace like this, in an ocean of horror, in—

Never. I will never eat you.

I know. Let him go. He’s here for love. Even I can see that.

All right, all right. For you.

Thank you.

The things I do for you…

And Hastur is spat out.

He comes to in his own domain with no memory of crawling there, sprawled in his magic field like a dropped cloak.

He is in absolute shock that he’s alive. Absolute shock that he’s sane. Absolute horror that he was unconscious.

He has never been unconscious.

How the fuck do mortals handle it? It’s terrible. Darkness, being unaware, the incomprehensible loss of memory. It scares him as much as that sea of fear he’d been caught in, like a trap. It was…

Not too different from feeling Kayne’s ire, actually.

Who the fuck had that been in there, anyway? People? Consciousness? In the eaten timeline?

This throws all theories about that timeline into chaos, torquing them into unrecognizable tangles. He has no idea what this means. What the shape even is of this new and tortured knot.

He decides in an instant that he won’t be the one to unravel it.

Maybe he was eaten a little. His torn edges, the places where John was ripped away, feel worse than ever tonight—freshly sore and harried, burned and reddened anew. Hastur is shaky, ill; he feels his incompleteness sharply as he enters his palace late at night.

He needs…

He needs to advance the plan with John. He needs—

(To hold Arthur.)

—to find John and see how the seeds he’s planted fare. He needs to be whole. He needs to spend time with them, whether they’re awake or not, and—

Instead, he finds his Composer and his Piece have not gone to bed, but, inexplicably, they are busy at the keys.

The sound that floats from the music room is suspiciously unlike one of his jubilees, unlike any of the smaller compositions his Composer has put together for Faroe, and unlike any music Hastur has ever heard. Piano notes dance in the air, playing back and forth with an enthusiasm that makes him go still and silent to listen.

What was this? It was wild. Enrapturing. Unpredictable. It felt like life.

He’s so engaged that he nearly startles when the piece ends abruptly and chaotically with a run of the piano, and he hears laughter.

John's laughter.

“You’re getting quite good at this!” Arthur says. “I had no idea you’d take to this so well.”

It’s a hidden talent, the Piece says, voice dripping with self-appreciation. Though I had an excellent teacher.

“Oh, stop it,” Arthur says. “I’m serious, though. We’d be one hell of a dueling pianos act, if you had your own body.”

What?

Dueling pianos? The Piece says, questioning. A few notes dance along the piano’s lower register.

“Ah, it’s a type of performance where two pianists work together to improvise a piece,” Arthur says. “One trades off, back and forth, with their partner. Sometimes you wrest control of the melody, others you work together to create something more.”

Heh; like a play-fight for dominance, John purrs. I see.

“I never did one myself,” Arthur says. “The places I frequented only had a single piano.”

The Piece is silent for a moment, leaving Hastur to grapple with this horrific scene.

This isn’t how this is meant to develop. This is not what his Composer is meant to do. This is not how the Piece is meant to act.

…Would we be big, do you think? In Arkham? The Piece says, and Hastur tries to still the rage that rises in him like a tide. No need to lose his temper. This is fixable. He could—

“Arkham?” The Composer laughs. “We’d be big in New York City, John!”

You mean that?

“You’re really bloody good.” Arthur says. “If we were back home, we’d take it by storm. We’d be the greatest piano duo—”

Home.

Duo.

Two.

Them.

Hastur snaps.

He surges into the room like boiling oil, bypassing walls and entering like a landslide, his fury scorching the air with the crackle of barely-restrained magic and the reek of ozone. Arthur reacts instinctually, tumbling over the piano bench and staggering backward as the Piece struggles to describe what is happening in time.

He just appeared, Arthur, and he’s—

Even he doesn’t know what he’s reaching for as he lunges. Tentacles out, power flared, roar rattling the sconces on the walls.

To crush Arthur and hurt him for taking the Piece away.

To crush Arthur and hurt John for being taken away.

To grab them both and not crush but sway and make them love him.

That last thought shocks him so much that he changes direction and smashes the piano instead.

The violence of it is barely satisfying; it’s thin wood, no real substance, lacquer and very little metal, but at least he can snap the piano wires, and that is satisfying, and pulling them between his arms and forcing them to stretch and break gives him something he can feel that is not—

That is not… whatever… that last thought was.

And then all too soon, it’s over, there is no more piano left to smash within reason, and Arthur is huddled against the far wall doing his panicked whimper—the one where he voices every exhale, his arm over his head, resonating absolute terror through the mark on his soul.

Which… is impossible.

Hastur tells himself that he’s the one who reached, that he’s feeling Arthur because Hastur had a rough day, and it was just a subconscious grab for what is his, because Arthur can’t send things through it, so he didn’t, and that’s that, and—

What the fuck is wrong with you? bellows the Piece, and between that and Arthur’s (broadcasted repeated distressing distress), Hastur realizes what he’s done.

He’s just ripped up the plants he spent months tending with his own stupid hands.

There is a moment of precipitous silence.

You fucking asshole, John snarls, left arm gripping Arthur tightly as if it could possibly protect him. You just can’t let us have one fucking thing. One thing that’s not yours.

Arthur is shuddering from the force of John’s yells, now; John still doesn’t understand that of late, his anger hurts.

Calm (Hastur is not calm), he tries to consider the situation.

This plant (to continue the metaphor, because he is fucking calm) sits in his massive hand, roots intact, not yet dead.

He can fix this.

The key to John is Arthur. It’s always Arthur.

And the key to Arthur is always Faroe.

Right. He—the Unspeakable, the Prince of the Great Old Ones, will now foment a plan. “Arthur,” he says, and plays one of his most dangerous gambits. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? John sounds, if anything, even more offended.

But to get to John, Hastur must focus on Arthur. “Not for this. I am sorry about Faroe.” Hook, line—

“Faroe?” Arthur’s voice is strained as he raises his head above his arm, lured.

—and sinker. “Kayne is going to come for her in five years. Did you not wonder why, at such a crucial time in her formation, I would be gone so often? I am trying to find a way to protect her. I… thought I had found one such means tonight, but it failed. I failed.”

Had he come on too strong? Was it too much? He watches the Piece, watches Arthur.

(Wants to rage and smash and scream.)

(Wants to gather Arthur up like Faroe and hide him completely from sight.)

(Wants to go to war, maybe, though he doesn’t know with whom.)

“You… you were trying to do that?” says Arthur.

He’s a fucking liar, Arthur! The Piece is not on board yet, but that will come soon enough.

“I was trying to do that.” Hastur creates a sound, a sound specifically meant to entice Arthur further: the sound of him taking in a deep, wavering breath. “I am. It is… difficult. Alone, I am attempting a thing that has never been done in all of existence.”

He is damned lucky Arthur is broken. Oh, the man is better, sure; aggravatingly so, some days. But still broken. He still hasn’t really processed everything.

Certainly not Kayne’s words during the mess that started all of this. “He… I thought he was leaving her alone,” says Arthur.

“No,” says Hastur. "She shines too bright. Her safety is not sure."

Arthur is breathing too fast again, but now for different reasons. Hastur knows he’s overwhelmed him; the shock of attack, the risk of danger and adrenaline surge, the grief and horror of the destroyed piano, the fear of harm, all of it—and now, threat against Faroe.

That overwhelmed state is crucial. It’s soft soil, ready for planting. “I will replace your piano,” Hastur says as though struggling to find his pride, to cover it all over. As if he realizes he’s… erred.

(He’s going to have to destroy something tonight. Something bigger than a damned piano.)

(He wants to go after the Piece for daring to think it could be John and Arthur, Arthur and John, off on fucking adventures some day like some… homemaking… human… book series.)

It takes more will than he likes to keep calm.

“Why… why did you… break the piano?” says Arthur.

Damn. He’d been hoping that wouldn’t be asked. All right: truth, weaponized. “Because I ache. I fear for my daughter. And I hurt because I am not whole.” And he abruptly decides he will go for it, and twist the knife even as he replants in fresh soil, never mind mixing metaphors. “And I come here to find you happy and unconcerned, and John happy and unconcerned, and I… I felt…” Abandoned? Too cheesy. Like the only one looking out for Faroe? Too over the top. “Alone.”

John is already bristling. The hell are you talking about? You’re hurting worse? Why?

Now, that was an interesting statement. “You have an artificial system to keep you from fully feeling the loss of yourself. I do not.”

That stuns John briefly silent.

“I…” Hastur pauses (masterfully, he thinks). “I am trying to save my daughter. I understand this is outside your purview. You cannot help me. Not as you are. It is all on me, to find a way to defeat, or defend against, an Outer God. I am…” Like the word hurts: “Sorry. About the piano.” He added that last bit as though trying to cover for something more.

The key to John is Arthur.

And Arthur… has always been a sap for a heartfelt apology.

Arthur is uncurling. His breath wavers still, hitching with the last pulses of adrenaline, but he’s calming, face slowly morphing from the wide-eyed terror to suspicion and, now, to disquietude. He swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing, and Hastur can feel his heart softening.

Such a weak point, that. Even when John hurt him to the point they were hitting each other (quite the show, that had been), Arthur forgave him the moment he apologized. Absurd.

But that growing acceptance feels… very good.

Arthur. The Piece growls. He is full of shit. Listen to me.

“I can… I suppose I can understand, maybe, where you’re coming from,” Arthur says, his voice making a valiant attempt to be firm even in its pathetic (adorable) wavering.

Arthur! A snarl, and Arthur winces. Listen to me!

Oh, ho, a rift? An unexpected benefit. He had to nail the landing on this. “I feel perhaps we have come some way toward understanding one another, at least in regard to… attachment.”

“Love,” Arthur challenges, which is exactly what Hastur hoped he’d do. “The word you mean is love.”

Hastur hesitates magnificently. “If you wish.”

“It’s love.” Arthur can’t quite stand. He’s better, he is, but this was a bad shock, and he feels shaky as hell. “You love her.”

“I do.” No hesitation there.

“I believe you.”

And that, monsters and murderers, is one hell of a step forward.

(Hastur is not calm.)

John is growling now. It’s such a tiny sound, compared to his. What, you’re done? Just like that, you’re done. He fucking smashed the piano, covered you with splinters, and just like that, you’re done?

“John,” Arthur starts.

I don’t believe a syllable of what you just said, John snarls at Hastur now. What are you after here? What are you trying to do?

The Piece thought this whole thing was part of a plan?

Hastur laughs.

He didn’t mean to, but there it is: he’s impressed John with his intelligence and strategizing to the point that John thinks smashing the piano like a lunatic was part of a greater plan.

Hastur!

“No, no, I’m invested now, John—what, exactly, do you think I was trying to accomplish? I lost myself in fear, took it out on an inanimate object, and you happened to be the catalyst. Where is the grand plan in that? Hm?”

John stammers.

“How would you use this situation to your benefit, then?”

“Stop it.” Arthur stands, finally. “Both of you.”

Arthur! You are covered… in… splinters!

Hastur reaches through the mark. It’s true. How odd. Arthur’s distress, he’d felt, but surely, if Hastur had been subconsciously reaching to know what Arthur was feeling, he’d have picked up on the physical pain, as well?

Hastur shakes that thought off. “Let me see.”

Don’t you touch him! John snarls like a child.

“Very mature,” Hastur says, dry, and picks his composer off the ground.

Arthur flinches.

Hastur sighs. “Why are humans so fragile?”

“Fuck if I know,” Arthur quips, a single frond of attitude poking up from the soil.

Well. That was probably a good sign. To someone else. “Be still.” He will use magic to get the wood out.

“Ow. Ow!”

“Be still.”

John smacks a tentacle with his left hand. Be careful!

(He still wants to… to…)

(Maybe not start a war, after all. Hastur feels better.)

(And it is not because he is holding Arthur.)

It should not be peaceful, extracting wood from a human. It should be annoying, mending a thousand tiny wounds as small as the tips of his tentacles.

It is not annoying. It is peaceful. In spite of stupid human skin, which seems to serve very little purpose beyond keeping their organs demurely from view. His hide took no damage, thank you very much.

No one says another word about the ruined piano.

The jazz.

The duo.

But Hastur is thinking it.

John is thinking it.

Arthur… is thinking about Faroe.

Unexpected, this benefit: he’s got them on two different trains of thought, and he could use that… but not now. A plant could only handle being ripped out of the soil so many times before it died.

The plan to be whole is still on track. It is.

It had to be.

“Concert grand next time,” Arthur says.

“What?”

“That was only a medium grand. You’ve been adding more instruments. I need a concert grand to be heard over everybody.”

Hastur sighs. “Very well. The spring rite is in two weeks, anyway. Perhaps it is time for an upgrade.”

“Spring rite?”

“Yes. I have specific requests for that night. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Faroe’s birthday is in two weeks.”

“The day after the rite. It will not interfere.”

Arthur is tired. “Sure.” He’s worried for Faroe. He hadn’t realized she was in danger now.

Maybe Hastur exaggerated the situation. Maybe it was worth it.

Fucker. You could’ve killed him. John is still fixated on Hastur’s misstep.

“I would not have. I dare not harm him. You would never forgive me.” Except he almost had. If not for the mark’s pull, he would have. What a close call this had been.

I hate you, John mutters, and it is a lie.

“Rinse the blood off. Your piano will be restored tomorrow.”

“Can we…” Arthur hesitates.

“Speak, child.”

“We… we’re doing that again. So you know.”

It’s barely audible.

“Playing your… music?”

“Jazz. Yes. We are.” Barely even a whisper.

Arthur…

No. “I see.” No.

Fuck. Hastur’s not sure where his stab of envy is pointed. At which of them.

John, of course it’s John, it has to be pointed at John—

It’s not. Fuck.

John growls again. Fucker.

He puts them down in Arthur’s room, gently, though despite himself his grip… lingers. “It was good. Your music. You have my permission to continue.”

We don’t NEED your FUCKING permission to MAKE MUSIC TOGETHER!

Arthur winces, hurt by that bellow. He takes a moment to recover, then rests one hand on the tentacle around his waist. “Good.”

And John sees that touch, and can’t feel that touch, and groans like he’s been stabbed.

Arthur does not know why. “John?”

And it feels—

Hastur’s exhale is slow. Measured.

He no longer feels like he has to smash anything tonight.

Fine. I’m fine.

Arthur’s brow knits.

Hastur decides they can work that one out on their own. “Rest well.” He leaves.

Tenses once he’s out of sight.

Curses himself out. Because this should not have happened at all.

He resolves never, ever to go near that particular creepy timeline again.

And he crosses off yet another potential way to protect Faroe from danger.

Thank hell Kayne didn’t care about her now. They still had time. They had time. He could do this.

He will keep her safe.

And he will get John back.

He is going to have it all. It’s just going to take more patience.

---

NOTES

Okay, it's sort of a weird Magnus Archives crossover, but not really?

Hush. My brain did the thing, and I said yes.

#surrogate series #malevolent #malevolent fic #malevolent pod #malevolent podcast #king in yellow malevolent #hastur malevolent #arthur lester #john malevolent

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cheapcigarbunnies · 2 years

Text

Having incoherent thoughts and emotions about the idea of Rose and Kanaya getting up to chaotic gay adolescent hair shenanigans during the meteor trip.

Rose—steeped in insomnia and boredom—comes creeping out of the bathroom with buzzer in hand, less regretting what she’s done and more regretting the fact that the idea of “2am” does not hold water in a sunless void and thus she’s been robbed of fulfilling the impulsive teenager stereotype in full. She’s managed a rough approximation of an undercut, but alas seer powers do not extend to the back of one’s own head, and so things have gone pear-shaped.

Solution #1 is committing to a full shave, which is appealing in its own right beyond being an option that can be enacted alone. Solution #2 is soliciting help from a very short list of potential assistants—Kanaya, the only person on that list is Kanaya. The trolls all grew up cutting their own hair, and of those remaining, she’s the only one who learned to approach it with any kind of finesse.

Kanaya, for her part, is always very pleased to be sought out for aid in all manners of tasteful personal expression, and excitement wins out against nerves when she opens her door to a pretty alien bearing a coyly sheepish expression and a work-in-progress haircut.

So then it’s the two of them posted up in front of the bathroom mirror—a laptop set on the counter open to various reference photos of beautiful women with intriguing hairstyles—mapping out flattering lines and pinning back errant strands. Conversation is a little tricky over the din of the buzzer, but when Kanaya procures a pair of shears to neaten up the remaining soft cascade of blonde, Rose makes a joke about the barber surgeons of old Earth fitting in well with Alternian culture. Kanaya is confused by the idea that Earth ever retired the idea, it’s much tidier to keep all your trustworthy and licensed blade-wielders under one professional umbrella.

Of course, undercuts don’t maintain themselves. And while Rose would probably get the hang of it pretty quickly, it seems much more likely this becomes something of a scheduled rendezvous. Lord help them if they figure out how to alchemize hair dye.

#homestuck #rose lalonde #kanaya maryam #rosemary #cheapcigarbunnytext

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azeez-unv · 6 months

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Psychology: six life occasions where silence is the answer: mastering the art of silent communication

Have you ever experienced a moment when words seem to lose their power, and silence becomes the most eloquent response? There are times when silence can speak volumes, and mastering the art of silent communication is an important life skill that can shape our relationships, our decision-making process, and even our self-perception.

Take, for example, the witness account of a friend of mine who found himself in a heated quarrel with his spouses. The tug-of-war of words reached a point of rupture, where any further conversation would only add fuel to the fire. In the heat of the moment, he chose silence.

“I simply stopped arguing and looked at her. It was as if time stood still, and I could see the rage draining out of her face. The silence was deafening, but it was also healing.”

Sometimes, not responding with words but just listening can diffuse tension.

His experience demonstrates how choosing not to retaliate with words can transform a hostile situation. It’s a clear reminder that we have the option to pause before we speak or react, allowing us to navigate difficult conversations more effectively. In these moments, silence isn’t about winning or losing an argument—it’s about understanding and respect.

So how can you tell when it’s best to hold your tongue? It might seem tricky at first, especially if you’re accustomed to expressing yourself verbally. But let’s delve into some signs that suggest it might be time for a tactical retreat into silence.

1. The escalating argument

Ever found yourself in a heated argument that continually rises in temperature? It’s amazing how each retort can stoke the flames, bringing about a conflagration of words that scorch the air. In these situations, choosing silence instead of another fiery comeback can significantly cool the atmosphere. Silence not only prevents the situation from worsening but also allows for a moment of reflection and understanding. It provides a pause in the heat of the moment, giving both parties a chance to de-escalate and find common ground, ultimately leading to a more productive resolution.

2. The unproductive discussion

How about those frustrating conversations that go in circles, like a ropy whirlpool of disagreement? Here, silence could serve as an anchor, pulling the discussion back to the center and providing a much-needed reset. By staying silent, you allow the opportunity for others to express their thoughts without interruption. This can break the cycle of unproductivity and lead to a more focused and effective exchange of ideas. Silence, in this context, becomes a powerful tool to steer the discussion in a more productive direction.

3. The moment of disrespect

Then there are those times when you’re confronted with disrespectful remarks. The verbal jabs sting, don’t they? Instead of launching grenades of your own, perhaps standing silently can shield you from the further onslaught while preserving your dignity. Silence in the face of disrespect is a display of self-control and strength. It sends a clear message that you refuse to engage in disrespectful behavior. It can also prompt the other party to reflect on their actions and potentially lead to a more respectful and constructive conversation.

4. The emotional overflow

Emotional outbursts can be like a sudden downpour. The words drench everything, leaving you soaked in feelings. Silence, in these instances, can be akin to a sturdy umbrella — providing respite and allowing for emotional clarity. When emotions run high, speaking impulsively can often lead to saying things you might regret later. Silence allows you to regain composure and assess your feelings before responding. It offers a moment of self-care, helping you communicate more effectively and empathetically once the emotional storm has passed.

5. The uninvited intrusion

Have you ever felt someone inch into your personal boundaries during a conversation? It can feel unnerving, right? Perhaps, here, silence can be your fortress — protecting your personal space and deterring unwelcome visitors. Silence serves as a boundary-setting tool. It conveys that certain topics or intrusions are not acceptable. This can help maintain your comfort and security during a conversation, ensuring that your personal boundaries are respected.

6. The encounter with ignorance

Sometimes you stumble upon perspectives that are fueled by ignorance more than knowledge. It may feel like talking to a brick wall, doesn’t it? Rather than throwing yourself against it, silence can be your ladder over it. In the face of ignorance, silence can be a strategic choice. It allows you to preserve your energy and mental well-being by not engaging in futile arguments. Instead, it can prompt self-reflection in the other party, potentially opening the door to more informed and constructive discussions in the future.

Silence is a potent tool to navigate certain challenging conversations. It’s a way to exercise control, maintain respect, encourage understanding, and foster healing.

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glorialawnyc · 7 months

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Unveiling the Power of L1 Lawyers in New York

In the bustling prison landscape of New York, navigating the complicated terrain of immigration regulation may be daunting. When the stakes are excessive, and the future unsure, having an L1 lawyer by means of your facet could make all the distinction. In this comprehensive guide, we're going to explore the position of L1 Lawyers in New York and the way they are able to assist individuals and agencies alike reap their immigration goals.

Understanding the L1 Visa: A Gateway to Opportunity

The L1 Visa: An Overview

The L1 visa is a non-immigrant visa class that lets in multinational agencies to transfer employees from their overseas offices to the USA. It serves as a critical bridge for worldwide organizations looking to amplify their operations to the American marketplace. This segment will provide an in-intensity expertise of the L1 visa and its diverse subcategories.

L1A vs. L1B Visa

Diving deeper, we will differentiate among the L1A and L1B visas. While each fall underneath the L1 umbrella, they cater to awesome roles within an agency. We'll explore the qualifications, benefits, and application techniques for each, supplying readers clarity on which one fits their particular needs.

The Role of L1 Lawyers

Navigating Legal Complexities

Immigration law is a multifaceted subject, and L1 visa packages contain tricky felony tactics. L1 legal professionals are experts in maneuvering thru these complexities. They provide priceless steering on visa eligibility, record education, and compliance with USCIS policies.

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For agencies trying to expand their presence in New York, L1 lawyers can be strategic companions. We'll delve into how these felony specialists help groups develop immigration techniques, making sure a clean transition for their personnel even as adhering to U.S. Immigration laws.

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Whether you're an government, supervisor, or an worker with specialized understanding, L1 lawyers can assist in securing your visa. We'll discover the particular ways L1 lawyers cater to man or woman immigration wishes, making the method less daunting and extra doable.

A Conversational Style with a Professional Edge

Engaging the reader is critical, and we're committed to turning in this statistics in a conversational but professional way. We use the lively voice to preserve readability and brevity, ensuring that the content material stays clean to digest. Throughout this newsletter, we're going to include rhetorical questions and metaphors, making the material each informative and engaging.

In Conclusion

In the world of immigration law, L1 lawyers play a pivotal position in shaping the goals and aspirations of people and agencies in New York. As we conclude our exploration, we'll mirror at the questions raised within the introduction. The complexities of immigration, the advantages of L1 visas, and the significance of felony guidance will all be addressed. Our aim is to provide readers with a complete know-how of L1 lawyers and the way they can be the important thing to unlocking new possibilities within the vibrant landscape of New York.

#l1 lawyer new york

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mundifinis · 1 year

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Hey there! Follower of yours from SW who’s having to go through the hell of uni applications in the near future, and has no clue what they what to do lol. If it’s not too much trouble — what’s it like studying poli sci? What do your days look like, what’s the courses/degree like, would you recommend, and what… exactly is poli sci? Pros and cons/advantages and disadvantages? I could ask the internet, but I’d just really love to have a reply from someone who’s currently studying it, rather than like a website’s course overview:/. Also— what is international relations, and what’s that like?

No worries to reply at all! Only if you have the time and you don’t mind. Feel free to delete this

omg i love this question! it's a bit lengthy so it'll be under the cut

first off, i do want to say i do go to community college and not like an actual university so i would say my experience (e.g. my days as you mentioned) isn't a common one but political science is essentially just studying the way politics have shaped our lives. for example, last semester i took an intro to international relations course which basically went through the world and politics. we learned about colonialism, different wars, different systems (e.g. bipolar system) and theories, geopolitics, and other stuff that falls under the similar umbrella. i also took a political philosophy course which just required us to read famous philosophers and their works (plato's the republic as well as the communist manifesto and other works) and analyze how they viewed politics and government.

the 4 year uni i'm transferring to in the fall allows us to pick a certain concentration but i assume it's like that for at least a few other places. because there isn't an "official" pre-law major in most universities (at least here in america) some people looking to go to law school may major in poli sci and their courses will be dependent on "law" stuff. because i want to have a concentration in international relations (and to answer your question-- it's essentially the study of interactions between different nations) i would probably take courses about different conflicts or different countries and how they interact and such.

as for advantages, a lot of people shit on poli sci and other social sciences (such as history and cultural anthropology) because "what can you do with it besides teach it?" but because it's a social science, the ability and skill to understand social behavior (yes-- even if you do take poli sci) is heavily needed in the workplace. i know people who have studied poli sci and make 6 figures a year working in HR. obviously, that's not for everyone but i'm just saying, the job field is wider than most people think.

as for disadvantage, i can only think of one and i'm gonna copy and paste it from politicalsciencenotes because it sums it up perfectly "The greatest difficulty is with regard to the changing, ephemeral, ambiguous, subtle, and coercive nature of politics. It cannot be comprehended easily by ordinary and even advanced minds. A political theory which once was regarded empirical and 'scientific' becomes unrealistic, historical and fanciful today." it's continuously changing and nothing is definite. there's not always an answer to everything and it can be very vague. unlike most STEM fields that always have an answer to everything, political science is tricky because it's studying people interacts and people don't fit in one mold and act the same way they do all the time.

i love studying it though but it's not for everybody and that's perfectly okay. i wish you luck for figuring out what you want to do and thank you for asking this question!

#ashla answers asks #politics #ashla.txt

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vintage-blo · 2 years

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How to Explain Your Dream Gown Ideas to the Designers

A wedding dress is nothing but a reminder of your big day, so always think about choosing that one in the right manner. Although it’s not particularly simple, you can discuss your ideas and designs for your wedding dress with the designer. Before you even met your fiance, you started having dreams about your wedding gown. It’s challenging to put into words the colour, design, material, pattern, and everything else in your thoughts. Only the most talented designer can accurately identify your wedding theme and design your wedding dress.

Wedding designer boutiques are all around the corner, but finding the best is one of the most difficult tasks. Get in touch with the Top Wedding Dress Designers in Kerala to design your dream wedding outfit. Book an appointment and express your feelings about your attire for the big day. Demonstrate your love for your dress in the form of choosing the wedding material, color of your saree/gown, pattern, overall design, and more. It is difficult to express in words. Rather than that, you can show them a picture of the entire gown/saree or the neck portion design, sleeve designs. All of the concepts we are explaining here are well-known, although not everyone is familiar with their names.

SILHOUETTE GUIDE

It’s very wonderful to start the wedding dress quest! It can be challenging to choose from the many various silhouettes available. We are here to assist brides in selecting the ideal gown! It’s crucial for brides to feel beautiful and secure in their attire. That is when silhouettes can be really useful. The design and style of a wedding dress play a significant role in the entire process.

A-LINE

This skirt’s typical “A” shape is created by the way it flows out from the actual waistline and fitted till the waist. Because it hides the lower body’s parts, such the hips and thighs so best suited for almost all figure types.. Variety of necklines can be introduced to highlight the silhouette.

FIT AND FLARE

The fit and flare silhouette combination of fitted torso till the knee and flares our from the knee to the floor. Sometimes people confuse this silhouette for an A-line. The fit affects the outcome. A fit and flare dress suits best for an hour glass figure and a triangle figure. This highlights a bride’s exquisite form .

BALL GOWN

Are you looking for a dress that exudes glitz and style? A ballgown is a classic option. Here the upper bodice is fitted and the flare starts from the actual waistline in the form of an open umbrella. This siluette is best suited for almost all figure accept an inverted triangle figure.. The skirt’s flare can feel more romantic the more pronounced it is.

FABRIC

Choosing the type of fabric that you want is a tricky one. Most of the time, choosing a fabric that suits your body type is one of the best options. If you are on the plus size, then go for medium flowy materials such as thick bridal georgette, soft tulle nets, satins. Moreover, if you are thin then go for fabrics like thick duchess satin, semi soft bridal satins, bridal jacquard satins and even raw silk that gives more of a structured look. Book an appointment with the Best Wedding Designer Boutique in Kerala to design your beautiful attire.

NECK PATTERN

There are numerous ways to create a distinctive neckline for your wedding gown. Since they contain the dress’s essence, necklines truly convey the beauty of the entire outfit. Here are some neckline designs that you can use on your dress.

V Neck Pattern: It creates a V shaped look at the front and back of your gown’s neck.

Sweetheart: Creates a heart-shaped bodice and is frequently used in strapless dresses.

Scoop Neck: Gently scoop down the neck to create a U shape.

Straight: This straightforward neckline crosses the bodice directly.

You might change your thoughts about the ideal gown for your special day by considering all of the aforementioned criteria.

Most brides today opt for white wedding dresses for their ideal day. Vintage Blossom the leading White Wedding Dress Designers in Trivandrum, Kerala, TamilNadu are here to design your dream dress in an aesthetic way in accordance with your preferences. We would bring up the complete attitude of any bride through perfect stitching and designs. For more information connect us in +91 62389 31660.

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vintageblossomboutique · 2 years

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How to Explain Your Dream Gown Ideas to the Designers

SILHOUETTE GUIDE

A-LINE

FIT AND FLARE

BALL GOWN

FABRIC

NECK PATTERN

V Neck Pattern: It creates a V shaped look at the front and back of your gown’s neck.

Sweetheart: Creates a heart-shaped bodice and is frequently used in strapless dresses.

Scoop Neck: Gently scoop down the neck to create a U shape.

Straight: This straightforward neckline crosses the bodice directly.

You might change your thoughts about the ideal gown for your special day by considering all of the aforementioned criteria.

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sunfish-studies · 3 years

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Cogs

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous: ‹ VS Umbrella › | Next: ‹ Celebration ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Last day of summer training camp is here!

For the first time, you’re kind of reluctant rising from the warm and comfortable futon you slept on. However, once you’re mind began to work and realizing yourself that you’re still in the training camp, you jolted awake almost instantly–removing the blanket and began tidying up.

Gathering your facewash and toothbrush to freshen up, you found yourself yawning in between–it’s not just you fortunately, because Yachi did the same.

“I’m sure you’re pretty tired, Hitoka-chan, [Name]-chan,” Shimizu giggled at both of you. “Are you two okay?”

“Yes! We’re sorry!” Yachi was quick to apologize for the both of you.

“Today’s the last day, so let’s do our best.”

“Right!” this time, you’re the one who answered her.

Yachi said she was going on ahead, and that left you still tidying up–you’re thinking of just packed everything because in the evening, you’re already be on your way back to Miyagi. That and Takeda-sensei informed the managers about something so you would have no time to pack freely. After you finished everything, you finally could freshen up and start the day.

Descending downstairs towards the women’s bathroom, you bumped into Kageyama who went to fetch on something he left behind.

“Oh, Kageyama-kun, morning.” You greeted.

“Morning, [Name]-san.” He replied with a nod.

“You seemed energetic, weren’t you practicing with Hitoka-chan the night before?”

“Oh, about that,” you could see the excitement glittering from his eyes, he definitely had good news to present because for the past few days the boy was frustrated. “The tosses finally worked. Coach Ukai gave me some directions and it worked.”

“Really? That’s great!” the excitement was infectious, alright. You knew Kageyama had been working extremely hard to make it successful and after days of failure, he finally nailed it–you were incredibly happy for him. “I can’t wait to see it!”

“If that dumbass could keep up that is,” the raven-haired boy them grumbled underneath his breath.

“Don’t worry, Shoyo-kun changed,” you assured him. “Him, you, and the whole team too. Even Tsukishima-kun. That’s why I can’t wait to see this new Karasuno and the new quick.”

“We will make that quick happen,” Kageyama stated without hesitation. “Because we want to go to the nationals.”

You smiled at him. “I have no doubt.”

“Uhm, not to be offensive, but,” you found your shoulders shook violently from you tried your best to withstand the urge to burst out laughing and rolling on the floor–it practically costed you your whole will to hold it. “Why are you drooling, Kageyama-kun?”

Yachi watched from the sidelines–you approached Kageyama to gave him his water bottle and from whatever you’re talking about with him, he seemed to be extremely embarrassed. Then the raved-haired boy proceeded to lean closer and whispered something beside your ear–which made Yachi squeaked.

“[Name]-chan and Kageyama-kun is quite close these days, right?” Shimizu suddenly said.

“Yes,” Yachi answered almost immediately. “[Name]-chan said Kageyama-kun asked for her advices and Kageyama-kun usually walked her home after club when it’s too dark.”

“Do you think something else happened between them?” Yachi couldn’t help but feeling fire engulfed her face instantly from Shimizu’s (not-serious) speculation.

“WHA-NO-HEEE!?”

“I’m just kidding, Hitoka-chan!” still, Shimizu pretty much enjoyed the extremely flustered girl’s reaction. “Oh, [Name]-chan, what did you talk about with Kageyama-kun?”

After distributing half of the water bottles, you jogged back to where Yachi and Shimizu stood. You tilted your head before snickering underneath your breath and answered. “He asked something about barbeque this afternoon.”

“How did he know!?” Yachi yelped because mainly the info was shared only between the coaches, who arranged the whole thing, and the managers, who’s in charge to prepare all the ingredients.

“Sawamura probably accidently eavesdropping the coach,” Shimizu pointed out, smiling. “By the way, Hitoka-chan shouldn’t you give the other half away?”

“I-I’M SORRY!!”

Final match for Karasuno was against Fukurodani–even from all the losses, the boys were still in high-spirits thanks to Sawamura’s short speech. You knew they wouldn’t be disappointed even though they loss so many matches because now they earned several new weapons for the preliminaries.

Through the match, you understood how Fukurodani is called a powerhouse–the players are skilled and knew the opportunities to score even when their receives a bit off. That and Akaashi truly lived up to his name as a setter in the line-up. Also, Bokuto’s insane angle of spikes were sights to see every time.

“That’s an insane cut shot,” Sugawara commented which made Yachi looked at him questioningly, thankfully Shimizu was ready with an explanation.

“Hitting at a sharp angle against three blockers is really tricky. It can be hard on your shoulders if they’re not flexible, too.”

“[Name]-chan, [Name]-chan! Did you see that!? Did you see my awesome cut shot!?” Bokuto called out way from the other side of the court, looking at you expectantly after he pulled-off the move. You glanced towards Sawamura in search of his approval to reply to the excited owl-captain, to which he nodded.

“I saw it!” You replied with a smile. “It’s amazing, Bokuto-san! Do you think you could hit like that again?”

“ANYTHING FOR [NAME]-CHAN!!”

You almost laughed at Akaashi’s look of disapproval, both at you and the owl captain and clearly sent the ‘don’t encourage him’ message to you indirectly. Surely, today’s match was filled with many surprises–Hinata’s feint attack, Kageyama’s unexpected dump, and even the one you’ve been waiting for; Hinata and Kageyama’s new quick. Both you and Yachi instantly screamed in pure glee–hugging each other in excitement.

“You did it! You did it!” Yachi even cheered and jumping. “Nice kill, Hinata! Kageyama-kun!”

“Nice toss, Kageyama-kun! Nice kill, Shoyo-kun! You two are amazing!” You added, grinning widely–the two have been practicing hard for three weeks, and those three weeks of cold-shoulder towards each other too. It was putting quite a strain but now, the two were finally back in action.

The two thrusted their fists to you and Yachi in reply–you two were probably the happiest ever currently.

And the excitement only lasts for a few minutes because they nailed it one time, but not so for another. Probably just luck, still it’s happiness though–they needed to practice more, however it wouldn’t be a problem for the two.

This also could be count as Karasuno’s lucky day–Nishinoya and Azumane’s back attack pulled off perfectly although it’s still out. The libero, of course, was very much frustrated. The synchro-attack worked and you swore Tanaka was crying out of happiness and relief because he could score comfortably.

“Tanaka-san, nice kill!” you cheered, which made him perked up and then laughing in victory.

“Thanks, [Name]-chan!”

From all the matches you’ve watched, Karasuno clearly made a difference in this one–they’re in their top shape. When the score reached 18 for either team, a technical timeout was commenced. Both you and Yachi immediately worked on distributing water bottles and towels.

“Good work, Tanaka-san, Nishinoya-san!” you said, handing them their water bottles.

“Ryu!” Nishinoya suddenly gripped his chest tightly. “Our manager just praises us!”

“I’m feeling blessed, Noya-san!” Tanaka replied, mimicking the libero–and here you thought the heat maybe started getting into them. You panicked for absolutely no reason and then decided to excuse yourself.

“Good work today, Tsukishima-kun,” Tsukishima nodded and muttered a thank you in reply, taking the water bottle from your hand.

“…Is there a way to make your finger stays in place while doing one-touch?” now you’re surprised because he made an attempt to ask first, however you didn’t let it show because you knew how it would piss him off.

“You could tape it to made it stiff enough to receive one-touch,” you suggested in the end. The taller boy hummed in reply before giving you the water bottle back so he could return to the match.

The next match wasn’t going well–for the other team that is. You noticed how Bokuto seemed to be agitated and rash with his moves–he almost hit his teammate with his serve, demanding tosses from Akaashi, and finally, third time’s the charm, when he failed scoring from hitting the net instead. Another score for Karasuno, who managed to turn the match to their favor for the leading score of 20.

“W-was that a block?” Yachi questioned.

“No…” Shimizu replied, rather taken aback by the event. “It didn’t seem to make it over the net, so it was spike miss,”

“Bokuto-san, I mean #4’s movement is also unnatural,” you commented, making the two managers turned to look at you. “He’s been rushing things and has been on the edge ever since the time-out.”

“Now that you’re talking about it…” Shimizu nodded in agreement.

“Akaashi, don’t toss to me anymore!” Bokuto exclaimed, which sounded extremely out of place in the middle of a volley match. Sure, it not only confuses you but your whole team even Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei.

“Do you know about this, [Name]-chan?” Yachi asked and you shook your head immediately.

“No, this is the first time I’ve seen Bokuto-san acts like that,” you answered. “And it looks like the team’s already used to this.”

True to your words, the team played like usual as if nothing happened–Bokuto only stared and follow the ball dazedly while the other working to attack and defend. What’s more amazing, with the lack of Bokuto’s participating they’re just as strong–something you would expect from a powerhouse school.

It caught your team off guard for a bit, however on the other hand, Tsukishima also wasn’t fazed a bit–could be seen from how he managed to shut out an incoming spike from #7. If Karasuno scored another, it would be deuce and a chance to turn the tables.

“Nice block, Tsukishima-kun!” you exclaimed, earning a glance and nod from the said boy.

When Asahi went for a usual serve rather than jump-serve, you understood he didn’t want to mess up their chance at winning. Fukurodani’s libero received in cleanly and Akaashi immediately went for a high-toss. Noticing how Tsukishima rushed towards the left, you knew your team lowered their guard.

“The left! Don’t let it open!” you yelled almost instinctively. Yachi’s soul jumped out of her body from your sudden loud voice, even Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei was taken aback for a few seconds. Bokuto blew the blocker away because they’re only 1.5 block, it’s not even enough to had a one-touch. He killed it with a straight shot down the court and Fukurodani won with two points leading.

Disappointment flared in your team–from the ones on the court, the ones watching from the sidelines, even Takeda-sensei. Coach Ukai could only sigh, Shimizu resumed with her notes, and Yachi felt her shoulders slumped. You smiled bitterly at the turn out events.

“Whoo! Ace!”

“You’re so cool!”

“Nothing beats the ace in the end!”

Fukurodani’s team members started throwing compliments and it made you blinked in confusion–moreover, Kaori and Yukie even jumped in to join.

“Birds of prey!”

“Your hair’s like a great-horned owl!”

Was that supposed to be a compliment…?

“Otohaku-san…!” the call was in a form of a hissed whisper and unexpectedly came from Akaashi himself. The message he sent to you was clear, ‘please, help us this time’–you replied indirectly with pointing to yourself with a look of disbelief present on your face.

‘Me!? What should I say!?’

‘Anything. Just praise him.’

Probably taking a bit pity for the setter, Sawamura nodded to your direction and gave you a smile of reassurance. You wanted to cry from how compassionate he’s being–bless his beautiful soul. That and the look of doneness and a little pleading from Fukurodani’s team was extremely hard to reject.

“Y-You’re amazing! Nothing less from top ace of Japan!” You wanted to slap yourself from the poor excuse of praise. Thankfully it seemed to work magic because Bokuto was instantly revived back to his cheerful and boisterous persona.

“I’m the best afterall!!” he cheered, laughing in victory. “Hey, hey, hey!”

Meanwhile, Akaashi took his sweet time to get off the court to fetch his drink and towel. Although, he did give you slight a bow of gratefulness. In the end, it’s losses all the way for Karasuno, however they acquired several weapons to fight on the national court–it’s not overall a loss because they also gained something new in exchange.

“[Name]-chan! I’m the best, right!?”

“You sure are, Bokuto-san.”

“Stop bothering Otohaku-san, Bokuto-san.”

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iztarshi · 3 years

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Identity and Hua Cheng

I’ve been trying to write this one for a while only to be stymied by the fact that Hua Cheng deliberately obscures his identity to such an extent that it’s difficult for readers to get a solid grip on. Hua Cheng’s identity, as he presents it to the world, is smoke and mirrors. He’s a shapeshifter who doesn’t use his true form, all his names are equally false, and his insincere smile and presentation of himself as acting on a whim obscures what he actually means seriously. Hua Cheng is a butterfly trying to hide that he was ever a caterpillar and to that end anything that relates to his past in any way comes with layers of misdirection.

What he hides, though, is who Hua Cheng is, not that he is Hua Cheng. His symbols and colours are consistent enough that everyone meeting him usually knows who he is. For instance, in the gambling hall they’ve never seen his true skin before but find it unremarkable he’s wearing a new one. Nor does it give them any difficulty in recognising him.

It’s only around Xie Lian that he actually tries to disguise himself and even then it doesn’t seem as if he’s trying very hard. He’s just trying to be non-threatening and that’s tricky if you present yourself as a ghost king.

Xie Lian

Hua Cheng’s love for Xie Lian is at the core of who he is. As a ghost it’s his driving obsession, even as a human it shaped him. Xie Lian once told Hua Cheng “live for me” and Hua Cheng took him precisely at his word.

It’s not something Hua Cheng advertises, though, at least not before Xie Lian himself is back in the picture. If he decided to make it obvious then, given his general level of subtlety, everyone in the three realms would know. It’s not that he’s ashamed to love Xie Lian, although he might feel like Xie Lian should be ashamed to be loved by him. Mostly, I think, it’s just too close and vulnerable a thing for Hua Cheng to let other people near. He Xuan and Yin Yu seem to know, but before Xie Lian’s visit to ghost city (where Hua Cheng was not subtle at all) that seems to be it.

Despite keeping it to himself Hua Cheng does surround himself with symbols that evoke Xie Lian in ways discernable only to him. The coral pearl. The butterflies for someone seeking a flower-crowned god. The scimitar because Xie Lian said he should use one. The red umbrella because Xie Lian once gave him one.

He also acts on Xie Lian’s words - perhaps because they had so few interactions he tends to put a lot of weight on every one of them before getting to know Xie Lian as more of a person. Someone else’s meta suggested that Ghost City is at least partly a reaction to Xie Lian saying that things like the ghost lanterns should be sold in a specialised place to people who know what they’re getting - and Ghost City very much runs on those lines. Hua Cheng’s approach to the 33 gods he challenged was likely not just revenge but because Xie Lian said they were bullies who didn’t deserve to be gods.

Maio Heritage

There isn’t much attention drawn to this in the book - I think MXTX was worried about the implications? - but Hua Cheng’s use of silver jewellery points to this. Some of the motifs he uses, like the butterflies, have roots in maio culture as well as symbolic connections to Xie Lian.

It’s a shame we don’t get more of this, because it’s implies a choice on Hua Cheng’s part to reclaim a heritage he seems to have lost his connection to as a human. The jewellery is part of his ghost king persona, part of the self he crafted and chose to be.

Red

An important colour for Hua Cheng and one he seems to have reclaimed after people reviled him for his red eye. The eye itself is turned into a weapon, its curse into something under his control (... somewhat, E-ming is a wilful sword). The colour is worn almost as a warning, reclaiming the implications as well as the colour itself. Yes, seeing him probably is going to fuck you over. Yes, he is evil and demonic. He’s a ghost king! What are you going to do about it?

Wealth and Beauty

Hua Cheng is rich. He has a ridiculous amount of things which he doesn’t seem to care about at all beyond having.

Hua Cheng’s forms are always beautiful, to the point he’s referred to as appearing as “a seductive woman” despite having zero intention of ever seducing anyone except Xie Lian.

These are also the things he lacked as a child. Things he was ashamed of lacking - he hates the ugly, wretched child he used to be.

Lone Wolf?

This is one where he says he is but he is not. He grew up with no one on his side, ostracised by everyone, and it’s made him determinedly self-sufficient. He won’t let anyone have power over him and he keeps people at a careful distance, but he doesn’t actually like being alone.

With the ghosts of ghost city his bark is decidedly not worse than his bite but he does always bark before biting. They can mess around with him as much as they like up until he says “scram” - and then they are gone.

Having He Xuan in his debt seems like a way to keep the power balance on his side in a relationship that’s a bit more friendly than he intended to let it get. I strongly suspect he’s not getting paid back.

While Xie Lian’s not snarly about it, he’s also inclined to claim he’s fine on his own when he actually doesn’t like being alone at all. Put them together and no wonder they’re incredibly clingy.

#tgcf #tgcf spoilers #tgcf identity meta

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