#IT WAS A CLASS BELLRINGER

[shiloh-game]

I keep thinking about the time I post a picture of Manfred in a Everskies competition chat and some said he would perish from a Popeyes biscuit and McDonald's Sprite

I COULD HAVE NEVER AGREED MORE WITH SOMETHING THAN THIS

[ravaging-angel]

Me: "Geez I don't know who's gonna be my favorite, they're all so cool and unique! Maybe Chip, or maybe Dave? Maybe it's Misty, or一"

Bellringer: *Likes Boxing*

Me: "ah."

[goldpilot22]

this is Tamzen Bellringer he's a mailman and he has like 3 girlfriends, all of whom are taller than him. he's a polite little guy and the ladies love him for his reliable deliveries

[ultidol]

guess who finished vir ami assignments ✌️

[useless-catalanfacts]

The knowledge needed to be a bellringer has been passed down from generation to generation for centuries. What chimes are played for each holiday, to tell the time, when someone has died, for a wedding, for a baptism, for each mass, what would be played to alert a danger, how to take care of the bells...

The 21st century is seeing many traditional jobs get lost. But not the job of the bellringer. Though the bells that tell the time have been automatized, other chimes are still done manually. Many towns have a strong tradition of bellringing and have been passing down their knowledge, but to ensure that no town is left behind, the Guild of Bell And Carillon Ringers of Catalonia is starting the Joanetes School of Bellringers.

Starting in autumn 2023, every Saturday for a year the aspiring bellringers will attend class in the village of Joanetes (pictured above, in Comarques Gironines, Catalonia) and will be able to practise with the village's Medieval church's bell tower.

[viviennevermillion]

a song for you

notes: listen- we're just uh, not gonna talk about the recent increase in rollo content on my blog. though there's something about the idea of hate-dancing with him that's just very fun to write. i'll probably write another version of this with malmal playing how does a moment last forever on the violin.

prompt: you accidentally catch him playing a song on the piano

contains: rollo flamm x gn!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: glorious masquerade spoilers

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

Song: Someday • The Hunchback of Notre Dame

You wandered the streets of the City of Flowers in the early evening hours. The sun had already set, as days were shorter during the winter holidays. The streets were as busy as always as you and your friend walked along the paths that the heart of the city opened for you. Cafe’s and restaurants were lit up by fairy lights that had been hung inside the shops and buildings as well as on the trees to support the ambience of this historic town at this time of the day. It had rained a couple of hours ago and the streets were still wet; some of the puddles reflecting the streetlights and family homes. 

The distant chatter of people seemed to blend with the sounds of water from the river the more you got away from the crowds. It had become an almost relaxing tune and you closed your eyes for a bit to relish in the atmosphere. Putting your arms on the balustrade overlooking the river, you could see your school from the other side of the waterway. Noble Bell College, as well as the City of Flowers, had given you quite the experiences this year; some better than others. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but smile when looking back on it; despite the bumps in the road.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”, your friend sighed when they noticed your peaceful smile. “Who?”, you asked, earning an eyebrow-raise from them. “Rollo Flamm. Who else would I be talking about?”, they chuckled. 

You hesitated, remembering the way the city had been covered in crimson flowers in October. Your friend, as well as everyone else at Noble Bell College, had no idea what truly happened that night. Who was behind the shock and chaos caused by the plant that had been thought to be extinct for hundreds of years. You hadn’t really talked to Rollo ever since. You didn’t even know what the two of you were. Officially, you hated each other. You had, as one would call it, a rivalry of sorts. Always bantering, always driving each other up the wall. He was driving you insane, in more ways than one. 

There was Rollo, who would point out mistakes in your essays and presentations just to get a reaction out of you. The student body president who made sure he always was at the top of his class; having no problem throwing you under the bus in class to show off. The person who always had a condescending counter-argument ready whenever you expressed your perspective on anything. But if you were to be honest, he hadn’t done these things in quite a while. Most of what he said towards you now were dry remarks you knew were supposed to tease you. And statements that sounded less mean-spirited and more like he was deeply in denial about something. Just like me, you thought but pushed that thought down just as quickly as it came.

And then there was that version of Rollo that made your heart flutter. The Rollo who had given you a small necklace with a purple liquid and stars inside it; mirroring the silk scarf a friend of the kind bellringer was said to have as she captivated the people of the city with her beautiful dancing. He had argued that he had won it at the Topsy Turvy festival and saw no use for it. You would have believed him if it hadn’t been for the blush on his cheeks when he gave it to you.

There was also the dance the two of you had shared at the masquerade ball. Despite everything, Rollo had managed to make you smile that evening. Although his facial expression looked shameful and you had the feeling he couldn’t look you in the eyes that night. 

There were all the times the two of you, despite your “hatred” for one another, had walked to your classes together and talked about whatever came to mind. Although his words hardly spoke for it, you knew in a way he was looking out for you as you did for him. You’d be lying if you were to say that you hadn’t gazed up to the night sky from your bedroom window during the holidays and wondered whether he was thinking of you even slightly as much as you thought about him. 

“I’m not sure what you’re implying”, you finally answered your friend, visibly flustered, “it’s not like I have a crush on him or something.” “Sure…”, they raised their eyebrows in doubt as the wind blew a little harder and you clutched the jacket you were wearing tighter, “that’s his jacket, isn’t it?” You avoided their gaze, clearly pouting. “Listen-”, you protested, “our class teacher sent us out to pick up potion ingredients for the school from the city; it was really cold and he gave it to me because I, and I quote, ‘wouldn’t stop making a fuss about it’. That’s all. It just happens to be very comfortable. He’s not getting it back if he doesn’t ask.” You smirked and your friend laughed. “I don’t even think he wants it back”, they giggled, “like, have you seen the way he looks at you when you wear it? Like he’s one smile away from going down on one knee and promising you his eternal and undying love.” You grimaced and the two of you continued your walk. “I would appreciate it if we could drop the recurring scenarios of me marrying Rollo Flamm”, you said and your friend just sighed, mumbling something about ‘denial’ and ‘stubbornness’. 

You walked for a while before eventually hearing a beautiful piano tune. It perfectly matched the evening atmosphere of the City of Flowers and it seemed so full of emotion and passion, that you couldn’t help but want to stay for a while. The song was coming from a narrow alleyway and you grabbed your friend by the arm, dragging them towards the melody. You entered a small courtyard that seemed to belong to a restaurant, as its backdoor was the only other way to access the place aside from the alleyway you and your friend had entered through. The courtyard was decorated by so many lights being spun from tree to tree. There was a small marble stage in the middle of it; solely meant for the grand piano and the musicians who came and went to play on it. And at the piano was sitting none other than Rollo Flamm, playing the beautiful song you were so enchanted by. You had to admit he looked quite handsome, being dressed in a turtleneck shirt, a long winter coat and a cozy scarf wrapped around his neck. The people sitting outside of the restaurant were watching him play just as you and your friend were.

“Speak of the devil”, your friend took a sip from the coffee they had gotten themselves, “your boyfriend’s good though.” “He’s NOT my boyfriend”, you hissed and shook your head in disappointment. But they were right, he was good. You didn’t even know he could play.

“Anyway”, your friend patted your back with a mischievous grin on your face, “I just remembered I still have somewhere to be this evening. You should have a good time with piano boy over there.” They winked and were about to leave as you held them back by their coat. “Let me come with you”, you plead. “To drive my grandma with dementia to her foot waxing appointment?”, they raised an eyebrow. “You’re making this up”, you gestured wildly as they pushed you a step closer to Rollo with a chuckle. Just as you were about to continue arguing, your eyes locked with his as he was close to finishing his piano piece. You just looked at each other for a while before you attempted to turn around to your friend again, only to notice they were long gone.

Rollo finished playing his song and then stood up to walk over to you. Oh no, not good…, you thought. “Y/n”, he acknowledged you with a nod, “what are you doing here? Don’t you have someone to entertain with your little magic tricks?” You rolled your eyes. “Charming as ever”, you hissed under your breath and Rollo covered his angry expression halfway by putting his handkerchief over his mouth. “What were you expecting?”, he let out a bitter laugh, “flowers and chocolate?” 

“Rollo…”, you began, left a dramatic pause and then spoke very slowly but clearly, “you of all people should know that I’ve had it with flowers for a while.”

He didn’t answer for a while so you took the initiative to speak again. “I didn’t know you could play an instrument”, you remarked. Rollo shrugged. “Who do you think plays that organ at school all the time?” “That’s you? I loved listening to that”, you exclaimed excitedly, then remembered just who exactly you were talking to and tried to cover it up, “though I’m not sure I still will from now on.” “Well that sounds like a you problem”, he spat back. You regretted your words when he seemed genuinely hurt and didn’t look into your eyes anymore. “I liked the song you just played”, you said quietly, causing him to look up to you again, “it was beautiful.” “Thanks, I guess”, he mumbled with a flushed face.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you, neither of you was quite sure on how to proceed and the longer you remained silent, the weirder the situation got. One of the men sharing a dinner with his family at the restaurant had noticed the tense atmosphere between you and got up to play another song at the piano. Rollo still remained silent for a moment before he spoke, simply listening to the man playing the piano. 

“Would you like to dance?”, Rollo asked quietly. His question caught you off guard. “What?” “I said ‘Would you like to dance?’; goodness y/n, are you deaf?”, he blushed furiously as you grabbed his hand and wrapped an arm around his waist, beginning to dance with him. “This takes me back”, you reminisced, “reminds me of the masquerade ball. That could have been such a nice evening if you hadn’t decided to put the whole town in a state of shock and terror the day prior.” “Tsk”, Rollo pulled you closer and rested his head against yours so you couldn’t see his facial expression and so that only you could hear him when he whispered. “I can’t believe you decided to team up with with those annoying Night Raven College students.”

“Well, I witnessed the whole fiasco and thought to myself ‘I am going to drag this man down from that belltower and knock some sense into him and if I have to do it as a magicless pedestrian’”, you chuckled and Rollo closed his eyes, remembering the dance you shared at the masquerade ball and how intimate it felt emotionally despite how angry you two were at each other. “To be honest, you only made me confused”, he whispered back. “Likewise”, you sighed, admittedly, “so…what’s with this place? It’s pretty secluded.”

Rollo hesitated for a moment. “My brother and I used to sneak out of the house as kids a lot and we’d end up here at night. We came here a lot. He loved to dance, even as a little child, so I’d often play the piano for him while he danced when no one else was around”, Rollo smiled fondly, a tear running down his cheek, “though, I have to admit, I didn’t have as much of an idea what I was doing as I do now.” He let out a quiet laugh as he remembered how many mistakes he had made, playing the piano as a kid. But his brother had loved it anyway. 

You looked at him with a surprised expression, your eyes meeting his again. “You have a nice laugh”, you confessed before you could think about it, “you should laugh more often.” Rollo would have taken your statement as teasing if it hadn’t been for the genuine tone in your voice; making him hope that you simply wanted to see him happy. You continued dancing in silence for a while. Your eyes wandered to Rollo’s lips, as did his to yours. You leaned in closer, waiting for him to make a move. Your suspicions were proven correctly when Rollo leaned closer as well. “Can I-”, you whispered but Rollo interrupted you. “Goddammit y/n, just kiss me already”, he hissed and your lips met his own. Unlike his words, the kiss was gentle. Your lips plucked at his lower lip lightly and you could hear his breath shaking before he leaned in once more, giving you a quick taste of his tongue before pulling back again. He was blushing but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“I really have to go now”, you whispered after glancing at the clock, “I’ll see you after the holidays. Maybe I could listen to you play the piano again sometime.” Rollo nodded. “I’d like that.” “Oh”, you remembered, “I still have to give you your jacket back-” He held his hand up. “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” “Very well then”, you smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek; feeling how soft but cold his skin was under your lips. I could get used to this, you thought before waving him goodbye, maybe next time I should be the one bringing him flowers.

[writingprompts]

This is one of the writing prompts from a new of 30+ prompts that I made for the start of the school year. If you're interested, the set is available on my TPT store.

Here's what I shared over there about this set: This resource includes five different versions of a set of more than 30 creative and engaging writing prompts for the start of the school year. These are the writing prompts that I chose to do at the start of the school year to get to know my class and to help them get to know each other. They served us well in helping build classroom community through students sharing their writing with each other. They have been carefully crafted to be creative, engaging, interesting, and not-stereotypical. These writing prompts are perfect for student writing journals, warmup activities, bellringers, or classroom writing practice.

The prompts or writing ideas are aligned to Common Core Writing Anchor Standards 1,2, and 3.

This digital product comes in five versions!

The prompts are shared in five different formats, so that you can access and share them with students in multiple ways:

Google Slides PowerPoint PDF of Slides Printable workbook Text ony

[squishmallow36]

This was my creative writing class's bellringer today and I felt like it might do numbers here so:

Tag yourself. I'm 7.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Tangle

Title: Tangle

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Slight angst and mentions of depression, post-NWH

Summary: Several years after his memory is erased from the planes of existence, Peter lets himself fade into the background of another holiday season.

A/N: For those who aren’t from there, the “T” is a nickname for the subway in Boston. This fic is also part of @foreverindreamlandd​‘s Winter Wonderland Sleepover. As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. I hope you enjoy! Dividers are by @firefly-graphics​

Slush sloshed around Peter’s boots as he trudged through the streets of Boston. He’d spent most of his day holed up in the library studying for his engineering class. His watch read 6:00, which meant that he only had an hour to get home, change into his work uniform, and head to the restaurant for his shift. If he was lucky, the T wouldn’t be as packed as it was the night before and he’d actually get there on time tonight.

Somewhere up ahead, carolers sang in four-part harmony, something about snowflakes or candles in windows. Their voices clashed with the bellringer at the corner in the opposite direction, worsening the headache that had been creeping up on Peter since hour three at the library.

Peter kept his head down and his hands in his pockets as he walked to the station. All around him, the crowds surged, buzzing with excitement, but he just couldn’t feel it, not this year. The holidays had always been something he’d looked forward to. He’d spend weeks making plans for winter break with MJ, Ned, and May until every moment was crafted to be as enjoyable as possible. The plans usually went out the window once break actually arrived, but thinking back, it was the time he’d spent with his family and friends that he’d really enjoyed, not the plan itself. Years ago, Mr. Stark had taken him out for dinner. No one had been able to know about it, of course, but it had been one of the highlights of that Christmas. It had gotten him into the holiday spirit more than anything else.

He had no reason to travel home for his Christmas break this year, even though most of his classmates were. He didn’t have the option, really, because his boss had scheduled him to work both Christmas Eve and Christmas. Even if he was able, however, Peter wouldn’t have gone back to Queens. There was nothing there for him now except the memories he’d made and a lot of pain. Three years had passed and grief still ripped through him with every thought of his life in New York, both good and bad. Lately, he’d had to bury himself in working and studying to keep from getting caught up in the memories of Christmas past. They were an ever-present knot in his stomach, like the Christmas lights he and May would have to untangle every year.

A wave of heat hit the center of his chest and Peter stepped back, forced into the person behind him by a body against his front. The woman grabbed onto his shoulders, shouting a much-too-loud apology into his ear as she tried to regain her footing on the slippery sidewalk. Instinctively, Peter’s hands went to her waist, holding onto her through her wool coat even as her cup of hot cocoa seeped into the fabric of his favorite sweatshirt.

“I am so sorry,” she apologized again, this time clutching the lapels of his open jacket. After a second, she released him and stepped out of his grasp, taking in the damage she’d done. The woman winced, then met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I slipped. I can give you money for dry cleaning, that looks expensive…”

Peter shook his head and forced a small smile. “It’s not, and it’s fine, really.”

“I know, but I—” She groaned. She looked pained, like she was the one wearing the piping hot hot chocolate. “I just feel really bad. I’m trying to be a better person, you know, with the holidays and all that, and this kinda ruined my streak.”

Unable to help himself, Peter snorted. The woman frowned and froze, looking a little offended. He lifted his hands in an apology of his own.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but it ruined your streak?”

She crossed her arms. “Yeah, it ruined my streak. I’ve gone three whole days without knocking someone over.”

It was endearing how upset she was about the whole incident, but it was hard to have any kind of conversation in the middle of a city sidewalk. Peter didn’t want this to end, so he reached out for her elbow and gently guided her towards a storefront, away from the flow of traffic.

“Three days, huh? I must be bad luck,” he replied, sticking his hands back into his pockets. His chest was warm from the hot chocolate, but his fingers were freezing. He needed to buy a new pair of gloves. The old ones had gotten frozen to a fire escape last night after he’d tried to stay warmer while stalking out a bodega. He’d spilled water onto them without realizing and the gloves were completely destroyed by the time he got himself free. Peter made a mental note to improve the fabric of the suit next time he remade it so he wouldn’t be as cold. Each winter he’d spent here seemed to be colder than the last.

The woman shrugged with a small, shy smile. The Christmas lights in the window beside her lit up her face and Peter could’ve sworn that he knew her from somewhere, but then she shifted and the shadows moved, and it was like she was a completely different person.

“You’re not so bad.” She paused, smiling at him for a moment longer before pulling her gloved hand from her pocket for him to shake. “I’m Y/N.”

“Peter,” he replied, shaking it. He stuck his hands back in his pockets right away. “I think I owe you a new hot chocolate.”

“You don’t owe me anything, but if you really want to give me something, you could give me your number.”

He blinked. She was still smiling and from the brief time since he’d met her, he hadn’t sensed anything dishonest about her, but it was weird having someone being so forward with him. The only people who had been upfront with him lately had been angry customers, and the only thing they wanted from him was his resignation, a refund, or new food. The knot in his stomach relaxed just a little.

“My number?” he repeated, unsure if he’d actually heard her correctly.

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, if you want. You just… seem nice. And you’re cute.” She shrugged and glanced towards the people walking past. A little girl with her hair in two little buns was pulling her dad down the sidewalk and her smile brightened as she watched them pass by, then disappear down the street. Y/N looked back at him. “I’ve been trying to find someone to go with me to this Christmas thing for work, but all of my friends are busy. I thought about dating apps but… I don’t know. There’s something about you that I can’t place, but you seem like an honest guy.”

“Wait, so you’re just inviting me to this thing even though you don’t— Sorry.” Peter quickly stepped away from the door to another store, moving into Y/N’s space. She didn’t back away, she only smiled at him and nodded for him to continue. “Even though we just met?” he finished.

Y/N shrugged again. “I guess. It’s just ice skating and hot chocolate, it’s not anything fancy. There’ll be lots of other people there since it’s a public rink. The only reason I’m really going is because our boss is nicer to us if she sees us at company events once and a while. I’ve gotta hit my quota for the year.”

Again, Peter snorted. She had a thing for setting little goals for herself, it was cute.

“Are you laughing at me, Peter?”

He froze, his smile instantly wiped off his face. The small smile she tried to hide, however, was enough to tell him that she’d only been teasing. His heart cracked a little as a memory of MJ and May’s teasing slipped past his usually ever-present defenses, but he managed to keep up appearances long enough to dig out his phone and hand it over. She traded with him and he quickly typed himself to her contact with red, frozen thumbs.

“I’ll text you later, okay?” she asked, and he nodded. “Bye, Peter!”

Y/N disappeared into the masses, leaving him standing alone in front of the Polish deli. Inside, the lights shone warmly down onto the customers and employees alike, and the evergreen garland bordering the window screamed that it was almost Christmas. The weight of it all didn’t feel so heavy now, however, and he found himself smiling a little when laughter from the two men behind the counter echoed even out onto the street. String lights blinking beside him in the window reminded him once again of his recent lack of cheer, but the knot in his stomach didn’t feel as tight anymore. He had room for a little celebration now. Ice skating and hot chocolate sounded like the best way to do that.

His watch beeped and Peter groaned. He didn’t need to look to know that he was going to be late for his shift. His pay would be docked again. It wasn’t the first time, and he’d get by without the money, but he needed his boss to like him. He didn’t want to work at the restaurant forever, which meant he needed a good recommendation. Every stepping stone was important, even if he didn’t like it. All he needed to do was stay on this one until one of his internship applications was accepted.

A week later, Peter waited on the edges of the crowd at the outdoor ice rink. The speakers blared Christmas pop music overhead, but he’d tuned it out as he people-watched. He’d gotten to the ticket booth earlier than he’d expected. Thankfully, there was an open spot on a wall nearby that he could lean against until he was supposed to meet Y/N.

“Peter! Hey! Sorry, am I late?”

At the sound of her voice, he straightened and turned, searching for her. When he finally saw her pushing her way through the people loitering outside the entrance, he shook his head.

“I was really early,” he reassured her.

She finally popped out of the crowd and into the empty space beside him, smiling. “Okay, good. How long have you been standing here? It’s freezing out!”

Y/N was decked out in the same winter jacket as the first time they’d met. She’d added a beanie, scarf, and a different pair of gloves now that Boston’s winter weather had really bared its claws. Peter shuffled a little, tucking his hands back into his pockets. The cold bothered him less than some, but tonight it bit at him like it had teeth. Even so, her presence was like a warm beam of light, and just joining her made him feel a little more optimistic about the days ahead. He wasn’t sure how she made him feel better without even doing anything, but he didn’t care.

“Not too long,” he replied, though it had been almost an hour since he’d arrived. He hadn’t wanted to be late, and he knew that if he’d gone home after his shift he’d fall asleep. His boss had been ruthless since he was late again last week.

Appeased, Y/N nodded and looped her arm with his, pulling him towards the entrance to the rink. “I have to admit,” she said, glancing at him as they joined the end of the line, “I’m not actually good at this.”

“At what?”

“Ice skating. I haven’t been in years, not since I moved here from New York.”

Peter paused, pulling his gaze away from the skaters he’d been watching to focus back on her. “You used to live in New York?”

Y/N nodded, smiling a little as she hummed in confirmation. “Yeah, I grew up there. I moved here for college, but I ended up withdrawing last year. MIT just wasn’t for me.”

He smiled back. It was the first real smile he’d had all day, and it felt good. Life’s burdens suddenly felt a little bit lighter knowing that they have something in common. The knot unraveled even more.

“I grew up in Queens,” he told her. “You?”

Her smile grew wide as the line stopped, and she let go of his arm to face him fully. “No kidding! Me too! Where’d you go to school?”

“Mid—”

“Midtown Tech?” she finished, grabbing his arm again with both hands. “Me too! Wait, when did you graduate?”

The lump in his throat returned and Peter swallowed thickly. He tried to keep his face neutral, but he felt his jaw clench against the tears that welled up in his eyes despite his best efforts. He looked away from her then, staring back at the rink bordered by string lights and families crowding around the benches.

“Um, I ended up just getting my GED. There was a lot going on my senior year and I just…” He trailed off as the lump choked him, and Y/N’s grip on his arm turned gentle.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

He nodded, grateful for her empathy, but a little embarrassed nonetheless. 

“I graduated three years ago,” she chimed in. “You know, that year with all the Spider-Man and Mysterio stuff? I remember that everyone’s projects that year were about that. Someone even started a club to try and figure out his identity. It was crazy. It did get old after a while, though.”

So that was how he recognized her. She’d been in his chemistry class. Y/N had been the girl who always sat by the window, first by choice and then by instruction. They’d never talked, though he’d always admired the projects that she did.

Scoffing lightly, Peter forced a small smile. “That sounds crazy. That’s the year I dropped out. That must’ve all happened after I left.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Y/N’s voice was soft and she didn’t say anything more as the line moved up again. They were next, and when they reached the booth, Peter reached for his wallet. Money was tight, but he knew that May would be chewing him out if he didn’t at least offer to pay.

Y/N shook her head at him and turned to the teen behind the counter. She handed him cash and he passed them their skates without another word. It was odd that they had to pay for a work party, Peter thought, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe she had to pay to bring him as her plus one, and he didn’t want to make her think he was ungrateful that she’d paid. He wanted this to go well.

Once on the rink, Peter realized that Y/N truly hadn’t been lying about her skills. While he hadn’t been skating since he was a kid, it felt a lot like swinging from one of his webs, and he picked it up after only a few minutes. Y/N, on the other hand, wobbled and tripped her way around each lap. She didn’t improve even after several trips around the edge of the rink.

“I’m really sorry,” she laughed as he carefully guided her with both hands.

Peter skated backwards, his senses on high alert as he helped maneuver her around the other couples and the kids skating at full-speed.  “It’s okay,” he answered. She almost fell again, but he helped steady her, crouching down with her as she regained her center of balance. “It’s not your fault they chose ice skating. Have you seen your boss yet?”

“Who?” She glanced up from watching her feet, met his eyes, then looked back down again as one of her feet started to turn out a little too far. “Oh, right. Um, no, I haven’t seen her.”

“We could take a break. Maybe she’s by the hot chocolate stand.”

Her expression was nothing but relief and he laughed as she let go of his hand to hang onto the thick wooden wall. “You’re an angel, Peter, truly. An angel sent down from heaven.”

He laughed and after a moment, he switched to skate beside her and continued leading her around the ice until they reached the exit closest to the small snack bar. After taking off their skates, they made their way over and joined the line. Peter stayed quiet so she could focus on looking for her boss, but Y/N simply checked the time on her phone, pulled out her wallet, and looked ahead at the menu.

“Any luck finding her?” he finally asked.

Y/N ducked her head down, suddenly interested in aligning the ends of her scarf, and Peter felt suspicion tighten in his chest. “Huh? Oh. Um…”

“Y/N?” he prompted, and she sighed.

“I lied,” she replied, lifting her head. She winced and clutched her phone and wallet against her coat, drawing in and away from him. “I’m really sorry. I don’t actually have a work party here tonight.”

All of Peter’s senses dialed up to high alert and he frowned, glancing around. “Then why ask me to come with you to one? Why invite a complete stranger to a fake party? Is this just for fun, so you can tell all your friends and laugh about me later?”

“No! No, I would never laugh about you, Peter! You’re great, I just–” She let out a frustrated growl and stepped forward as the line moved, then quickly shook her head and stepped out of the queue. Peter followed her as she pushed her way through the crowds toward the edge of the cordoned-off area. Y/N stopped near the barrier of evergreen trees that separated the temporary ice skating rink from the rest of the city.

She turned to face him, sighing heavily and dropping her hands to her sides. “You were cute, okay? And I really wanted to ask you out on a date but I had just spilled hot chocolate all over you and I panicked. I made up a story in the hopes that it would make you feel bad and come out with me instead of saying no.”

Peter stared at her for a moment, his hands shoved in his pockets, then looked around. This area of the rink was less crowded. A trash can near the corner of the makeshift cafe and an unoccupied picnic table dulled the Christmas cheer, making the world feel a little colder, a little grayer, and Peter suddenly felt a little less like being out and about. If he hadn’t been so excited for the date with Y/N, he would’ve gone home and studied some more to distract himself from the holidays. He had friends from class, sure, and people that he talked with at work, but his past and his present made it hard for him to celebrate like he used to, like he wanted to. The knot tightened again, slowly tangling around itself and making his stomach clench with grief as he tried to find the words to say.

“So you wanted a sympathy date?” he finally asked, his voice quiet.

Y/N fervently shook her head. “No. No! God, no.” She held her gloved hands up, her phone still held against her palm with one thumb. “No, I wanted a real date with you, Peter. I just don’t normally ask out strangers and my mind went blank. I didn’t even really process what I’d said and done until after we’d gone our separate ways. I am so, so sorry. If you want to go home, I totally understand. I’ll buy you a hot chocolate and whatever else you want and we can part ways and you’ll never have to see or hear from me again.”

Her embarrassment wasn’t subtle and, ironically, Peter felt his gut twist with sympathy of his own. He understood what it was like to not know what to say or do. He felt that way all the time—most of the time, actually. He stared down at his shoes for a minute. The slush created by the outdoor heaters has left a wet shine on his boots, and he’s thankful that May raised him to buy a good pair of shoes that would keep up with all his walking. His feet would be cold and sore by now if she hadn’t drilled that thought into his brain.

“I think I’ll take you up on that hot chocolate,” he said after a few moments, and Y/N nodded. Her eyes were glossy with tears and Peter could see the reflection of the string lights on the evergreens in them. His stomach dropped a little further. The knot rolled to the bottom, heavy and filled with too many twists and turns for him to unravel alone. 

“We should get back in line then,” she murmured.

Peter nodded, following her. They joined the end of the line, keeping some distance between them, and both of them kept their hands in their pockets as they stood together in silence. All around them, the cheerful activities continued on, but the joy didn’t quite reach Peter’s heart.

Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and he turned to look at her. “Do you want to go for a walk after this?”

Y/N lifted her head, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. “What?”

“Once we get our hot chocolate,” Peter nodded towards the cafe, which was now only a few feet away, “Do you want to go for a walk? One of my co-workers said that there’s supposed to be a bunch of cool lights nearby. It’s supposed to be one of the best light displays on the east coast. It won like four Guinness World Records.”

She blinked, frowned, and then shook her head. “Wait, you actually want to stay? You’re not just going to go home after all this?”

Peter shrugged. He didn’t know how to explain everything going through his head. It would take too long and reveal too much, and he’d never talked to anyone about what had happened at the Statue of Liberty all those years ago. So, he’d start with the small stuff: work, classes, Christmas. Hot cocoa. Christmas lights. Midtown Tech and New York City.

After a moment, Y/N nodded, her expression still slightly unsure. “Okay. I’d like that, Peter.”

“Me too,” he replied.

The knot loosened.

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[sunny6677]

RAMBLE ABOUT MY DAY

Morning was the same as usual. Humid out, beautiful looking view. I didn't see my friends cat today tho.

The bus arrived, I rode on it and drew the usual stuff (drew the Tom stuff, and then another redraw cuz I forgot to). Got dropped off at school a little later and took this while on the bus still.

I packed two colas for lunch this morning since I wanted something different from Gatorade, and just drank some cola while making a bunch of polls and watching tiktoks til it was time for Psychology.

In Psychology, we discussed addiction and some people chimed in with their own experiences or questions about it. My teacher also approved of a suggestion I made so I got happy. Then I made test corrections during Advisory, and played Roblox when I was done.

And then in Spanish, we took notes about a story over a really sweet heroic dog named Wilson who they lost while searching for missing children in Colombia. It was pretty heart breaking the whole time as I was listening, and most of my classmates seemed pretty upset about Wilson possibly being dead. We're gonna analyze a Spanish song tomorrow because we didn't get to today like we usually do for Wednesdays.

In Chemistry, we did our bellringer and then took some notes over chemical properties. There was also an ant in my journal. Someone ended up squashing it for me though and I felt really bad afterwards.

In Technology, we practiced animation, and I finished pretty quickly with a slightly choppy 24 frame animation of a ball bouncing. And I just kinda spent the rest of the class watching random stuff on YouTube and playing Roblox til we had to go. I also got hugged twice by my friend today so my touch starved ass is feeling great./lh

Then at lunch, nothing much really happened—I played roblox, with one of my friends joining in as I played Natural Disaster cuz we added eachother on there yesterday. And we all kinda joked around the whole time, with one of my friends randomly sitting in my seat when I went to throw my food away, and I just saw them saying "HI I'M [REAL NAME] I'M A LESBIAN AND I LIKE SPOOKY MONTH THATS IT" in a heavy ass accent. Made me giggle even after lunch was over lol.

Then in English we read a little more of our book which.. kinda had some slurs in it?? It was said by a really immature brat of a character so it's obviously not normalized in the book but still jsndsnns. We played Blooket afterwards though and I kept laughing while stealing from other people—and I was also doing pretty good already cuz I'm good with English anyway.

In Theater I sat with my partners from yesterday, and we went over plans for the skit. It's basically gonna be like a peaceful salonist doing a Karen's nails only for her to get pissy cuz she lost her job, then a happy go lucky customer walks in and it turns out they're happy cuz they happened to take the woman's job jsnsns. I also complimented one of them because they had a trans flag on their backpack and he said he made it himself.

And then in Geometry, it was just kinda boring but at least a little more quiet than yesterday. I think I did somewhat better on my assessments online today, so that's at least good.

And finally for World History, I worked on annotations and reading and writing for documents regarding the Noah's Ark flood. This one dude kept complimenting me the whole time cuz of how fast I write and how well I read. And he kept calling me smart. It felt nice but I wasn't sure how to reply so I was kinda quiet the whole time jdndns. That's kinda it tho. We were able to finish before the bell rung luckily so no work for me tomorrow I guess unless we do something.

Other photos I took today

[the-wolfbats]

Thoughts on The Sable Quean

This is definitely the least interesting of the books I've reread. Not the outright worst (Bellmaker) but I still have all these notes. 

Once again, there is a new chapter art style I totally forgot about. I like the shading but the eyes are lifeless on the creatures where it's not meant to be. One of the chapter art is an otter and it reminds me of the style of The Great Redwall Feast picture book that came out in 1996. 

The names are very interesting this time around. I like them. Tura, Tassy, and Thwissle should probably all be related being squirrels. 

We have a second family of hares who don't talk like the stock types or even fit Salamandastron naming conventions. Knowing that the cartographer in 23 was a hare maiden, hares were really shaping up to be more varied than they had been in literal decades in this series.  Ironic that Diggs is the best hare since Florian. 

This is also the second recent book (at least off the top of my head) where otters have other roles at Redwall other than warrior , Skipper or fisher or random citizen (Fumbril here and Toran in Loamhedge)

I thought the Flitchaye were tiny squirrels but they're tiny weasles?

As soon as I saw the names of Buckler's brother and sister in law, I realized I had been mistaken the ending of this book for the ending of Eulalia. So I don't remember anything about that book. I've started it again and I remember really liking Maudie, but that's another post.

Is this the first mention of cauliflower?

Does anyone else want to hear The Bellringers Burial? 

liars. If I believed ye, I’d finish both of ye right now just t’save any poor beast the misery an’ shame of havin’ the like of you as fathers. Is quite possibly the best drag in any redwall book.

There's more species and social class specific quirks. 

The river’ogs are another concept that's rare, but allus welcome. Trajidia is the best. 

Chapter 9’s art is the tapestry of Martin. It shows the Late Rose, something I don't remember any other book mentioning, but it's possible I simply missed it. I remember it being a stained glass window but maybe that's a TV thing. I know it's an actual rose on the grounds but it's mentioned rarely after Martin the warrior 

This one leans harder into the socialization aspect of fretful females and fighting males than nearly every other book in the series. The only exception is Flib. 

though I recall, your voice sounded rather different.” the rest of the scene plays out and confirms; while animals are possessed by Martin, he also changes their voices to his own. Kind of creepy. 

I'd rather hear about the adventures of Oakheart and Marjoram as children than the rest of the story. 

Forgot that it took 16 books to get a second fighting mole (I consider Arula one) and the first capital Warrior in the series ever. 

And 21 books to have a female badger get the prophetic dreams to go to Salamandastron. Also I knew the name Ambrivina but I forgot who had it. 

Three animals are killed and it seems to be rushed through by the narrative. Lessens the impact. 

This entire concept just has no steam behind it. The children are missing but there's been little to no established outside communities in mossflower in the series so where did these children come from? Are they all orphans?

Some characters are so uninteresting that we’re constantly reminded of their relationship in proximity to the main characters bc they have nothing else. It's very bad regarding Clarinna and Clerun. I will say the scenes with Clarinna and Buckler in the end are very endearing. 

Vilaya has a title and a maid but nothing makes her special besides being the third female antagonist and also a sable I guess. 

[moominpopzz]

We have free write fridays as bellringers in my Eng class and today I yapped ab Ashe’s backstory and I just desperately needed everyone to see the drawing my teacher did of her☹️

I LOVE IT SO MUCH

[rancidpancakebatter]

Drop In-Chapter 4 [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader

Summary: You like Peter, and Peter likes you. This should be simple, so why isn’t it? Well, maybe it’s because you were already friends? Maybe it’s the stress of senior year? Maybe it’s because someone had to get bit by a spider? Who’s to say?

Word Count: 3k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijuana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying,

( Previous | Chapter List | Next )

Chapter Summary: Homecoming is coming up, but who cares?

A/n: When describing Peter’s friends I felt like I was making a dating sim Also, the texting isn’t very 2013 but like, I wasn’t really texting in 2013 so you get this

You had made it three weeks into your senior year, and so far, you couldn’t complain. Your course load wasn’t too insane, almost as if your teachers knew you were practically out the door. This gave you an unfortunate amount of free time, however. You’ve been trying to get into new hobbies: writing, painting, and most excitingly to Aunt May, crocheting.

Making friends had always been a little harder for you. Your father raised you to be unabashedly yourself. You didn’t know how to be anyone else. Peter was much better at camouflage. You had seen him start to come out of his shell a bit and you were very excited for him. He had made a few friends in his new classes.

That is what brought the both of you into a very interesting predicament on this Wednesday afternoon. Since getting these new friends, he no longer walks you to your classes.

You can’t say you mind all too much. You see him almost all day so to be upset over missing five minutes between classes was ridiculous. You did miss the proximity though.

A gaggle of boys came through the door to Mr Stringer’s class with boisterous laughter. Only one grabbed your attention, it’s airy and its raised pitch cuts through the air.

You give Peter a small wave as he makes his way to his desk, which he returns with a small smile. You continue working on your bellringer, feeling grateful that you wrote down the question as Peter has now blocked your vision of the board as he continues talking to his friends. He had introduced you to them before.

Silas was a stringy boy, similar to Peter in a lot of ways. Much to Peter’s dissatisfaction, Sy had a few inches on him, standing at a solid 6’2”. He also had curly blond hair that often fell into his kind blue eyes and a grand smile. He was pretty chill all things considered.

Nicholas was a bit shorter than his friends, closer to your height. He had black hair, pin-straight and short. You could see evidence of gell pushing his hair into a point on his forehead, a common style that he wore well. Peter had met both of them in his advanced calculus class.

Michael was a kind boy with wavy brown hair he wore long, grazing his shoulders. He had mesmerising green eyes, flecks of gold sprinkled throughout his irises. He was just as tall as Silas, with a much stockier build. He was a junior and friends with Silas though you weren’t sure how.

You’re favourite was Miles. He was a freshman, full of energy and hope that you were slightly jealous of. You were also unsure of his connection to this group but never questioned it.

You tried your best to give Peter space with his friends, letting them talk and sticking to your task, but something was said that caught your attention.

“No, but really are you asking anyone?” Michael was leaning against Peter’s desk, arms crossed, while the rest of the boys crowded around him. Peter only shrugged in response but Silas refused to let it slide.

“Oh, come on Parker. You can’t say you ‘might go to the dance’ and then say you’re not taking a date. What? You gonna show up solo?”

Now that was interesting. Peter had never said anything about wanting to go to homecoming but here his friends were saying he did.

Michael gives him that winky nudge thing before asking “Well, are you talking to anyone?”

Peter sounds confused, “Talking?”

Miles cuts in then, “Yeah, ya know, talking”

You watch as Peter blushes and you wish you could save him but you don’t know how to do that without forcing him into a narrative. You felt eyes on you as you continued your work.

“Yeah, I’m talking to (Y/N) (Y/L/N)” You look up when he says your name. Peter then turns in his seat to face you with a hand extended. You grasp it and he shakes viciously, it’s jerky and his grip is too rough.

“How are you (Y/N)?” You look at him confused

“I’m…doing well…uh how- how are you?” You fumbled out the response not knowing what else to say. Peter claimed he was talking with you and as much as you wanted that to be true you knew it was just a panic response. His awkwardness could simply be written off as anxiety and not him being awkward, so much, to or about you.

“Good. Good to hear.” His smile was tight but there was a softness in his eyes that kept you level.

His friends all laughed and started nudging each other saying things like ‘called it’ and ‘atta boy, Parker’. You felt your own flush start and let go of his hand, the handshake lasting much too long now.

You brought your head down and continued to do your work wanting to remove yourself from the conversation, but the implication remained heavy on your mind. Maybe he had meant it. You raised your head to see he was already looking at you, he gave you a small smile and you returned it.

Like many other things that happen between you and Peter, neither one of you mentioned it again. You had work tonight but offered Peter a ride home after school. As you clocked in you couldn’t get Peter off your mind.

You tried busying yourself with tasks and that worked for two hours but Wednesday nights are dead. You wanted to address what he said though the idea of him rejecting you to your face was brutal and you couldn’t imagine a situation where it wouldn’t thoroughly decimate your heart.

You pulled out your phone. You had gone back and forth over how to handle what Peter said. You had decided to help him get a date, so his friends would get off his back. You typed and deleted characters for what felt like aeons. This was going to be harder than you thought.

(Y/N): Hey! If you need help getting a date for the dance I can help!

You cringed at the excessive punctuation and the formality of your texting. You hoped he wouldn’t think much of it. You sat there staring at your messages for five minutes before you saw the typing bubble.

Oh god, he was responding! Of course, this was the logical next thing but you hadn’t prepared yourself as much as you thought you had. You watched the bubble come and leave with no message coming through. You wondered what it was he was typing.

Pete: Thanks! Did you have anyone in mind?

You felt your heart hammering in your chest. Of course, you had someone in mind but you weren’t sure if that was who he had in mind. You wanted to scream, shake him aggressively until he came to his senses. Instead, you bit back tears.

(Y/N): I didn’t have anyone in mind but if you tell me who you like I can be a sort of wingman for you

You heard someone clear their throat and looked up to see an older man with an empty popcorn bucket. He asked for a refill and you shovelled the over-buttered kernels hastily into the paper bucket before pushing it toward the man. He frowned but walked away. Your nerves were too fried for good customer service. You looked back at your phone to see Peter had responded.

Pete: A wing man huh?

Your fingers were shaking as you typed back. You felt embarrassed that this was so important to you.

(Y/N): Yeah like you tell me who you wanna ask and I go in and talk to them. Hype you up ya know?

You watched once again as the bubble danced in and out of the chat. You hadn’t noticed your fingers drifting to your mouth as you chewed on your nail bed.

Pete: Well I was going to ask you to the dance

You laughed. Your brain went fuzzy and it felt like you were floating. Peter wanted to ask you to the dance. It’s just a school dance but still. He wanted to ask you. Last year when prom came around you mentioned that you wanted to go but Peter showed no interest.

Instead, he offered to spend the night with you and you were so infatuated with him that you agreed. You spent the night watching horror movies, smoking, and gorging out on Pizza. You were so wrapped up in thought that you almost forgot to respond.

(Y/N): I would love to go to the dance with you :))

He responded quickly this time

Pete: Cool :))

Since then nothing had really changed. Not in private or in front of his friends. You have to keep reminding yourself that he asked you because you’re really the only girl he knows and he felt pressured to ask someone.

It was ten days later now, Saturday, and you sat on his rooftop. Your shirt was bunched up against the rough shingles as you gazed at the afternoon clouds. Peter was nearby, his warmth was felt though you ignored it. You focused instead on the sun’s rays soaking into your bones.

Peter had other plans. He threw his arm across your stomach, his elbow pressing lightly into your skin, to grab your attention. You wanted to take a flamethrower to the butterflies that dared to erupt in your gut from such a simple, absurd action.

“Did you hear this year’s homecoming theme?” You said nothing, trying to calm the subtle anger that had been culminating throughout the week.

“It’s fairytale themed,” Peter continued, “but like ‘modern’ fairytale. I think they were really inspired by that ‘Beastly’ movie.”

You gave a non-commital “Hmm” and Peter was much too high to notice that you were upset.

Which you were glad for, because how would you explain to him why you’re upset? How would you tell him that you wanted nothing more than for him to ask you to the dance, but now that he had you were just more upset that it didn’t mean anything to him? It wasn’t exactly rational, and you were trying not to take it out on Peter.

“Who should we go as?” You paused for a moment in your spiral of self-deprecation, turning your head, looking at Peter confused.

“I know that most of the time people just ignore the theme but like, this one could be fun. Un-unless you don’t think it would be fun and then we can just figure out something else.” You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

“Well…what would you wanna go as?” Peter’s face held mild hesitation, he chewed on his lip before answering.

“Well, I always thought Flynn Rider was kinda cool and you remind me a lot of Rapunzel.” He said with a shrug, looking back up to the sky.

“I remind you of Rapunzel?” You couldn’t fight the smile on your face, nor the wings starting to sprout from your heart.

“Yeah, you’re kinda spunky. You’re really smart and also a bit of an introvert. Like, I imagine little (Y/n) was kinda jealous of Rapunzel's tower full of books. You’re very determined and creative. You’re loyal and kind. Oh! And you know the scene where they end up in that tavern full of, like, thugs? And Rapunzel ends up, like, charming everyone and getting everyone to sing and dance? I feel like you could do that. Like, you just are so…sweet and you- you just…”

Peter turns his head once again to look into your eyes. In his you see honey-dipped crystals, gleaming at you.

“You have this ability to light up any space you occupy. Every room wishes you were in it, because every room is dull without you.” He spoke softly, his sweet praise floating off his tongue and gently flitting through the air. Your mind was spinning as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

His arm on your stomach felt heavy now. You moved one of your arms from behind your head and intertwined your fingers with his, giving them a soft squeeze as you mumbled out a “Thank you.”

Peter pulled his gaze away once more, hoping you didn’t see the blush start to creep its way onto his face. “No problem.”

He wondered for a moment if you had somehow disguised a nine-volt battery as your hand. That was the only explanation he could imagine for why it seems every nerve in his body is responding to your touch. He can feel every cutaneous sensory receptor announcing, screaming your presence. As if he didn’t already know that you were holding his hand.

“We should rent that movie. For research of course.” You snickered at Peter.

“It’s okay to admit you wanna watch a princess movie, Pete. No one here is gonna think poorly of you.” He lets out a dramatic fake laugh and you can’t help the genuine one that bubbles up.

You make plans to rent it, encouraging Peter to hold movie night at your place, after all, you always watch movies at your place. The dance is next Friday and you don’t have much time to plan.

Peter laughs as you explain to him the pain of finding a dress. You consider arson when he tells you he can pretty much go anywhere and find a tie to match whatever colour dress you chose.

The following Monday you text Heidi and ask if she can cover one of your shifts this week. She says no but tells you to ask Mags. You beg him and he says he can cover your Tuesday shift, but in return, you owe him a shift and his food court dinner tonight.

After work, you made your way to the Family Video and found a copy of Tangled. You texted Peter a picture and told him movie night was tomorrow and that he was responsible for snacks. You didn’t really expect him to pull through but you knew he would want to participate in the preparation.

Your father welcomes you home with a warm hug and your comfort meal. You’ve noticed he’s been trying to be around more. You chalked it up to his baby bird growing up, leaving the nest at the end of the year. You couldn’t say it upset you. You had missed your dad in these past few months, neglecting him for the shiny, new guy in your life.

Your father was finishing up a funny ER story, the both of you were chortling and snorting as he regales the tale. “And this poor nurse was running around the room with some tupperware chasing this frog, while the kid and his whole family is screaming.”

Your father was a remarkable storyteller, something you realized at a young age. The way he speaks, his cadence carrying the tone, draws you in, places you in the room.

“But the kid wasn’t screaming when the frog was up his nose!” Your lungs hurt, and tears threatened to spill. Your father was in a similar state and it felt like years before you could both breathe again.

“Well, that’s enough about me. What’s going on with you, honey?” The food in your mouth suddenly felt tough. You felt a weight in your chest, a twinge of guilt, that he didn’t already know. Had it really been that long since you guys caught up?

“Life is good. My classes are going well. I um, Peter and I are going to homecoming together, so I’m looking forward to that.” You could have fooled him.

The way you were pushing your food around with your fork and speaking in a low flat voice was not very indicative of joy or excitement. Your father tried to swallow his concern and shock, instead trying to focus on being level-headed, being the adult you needed.

“Oh? When did this happen?” You could see your dad playfully smirking from your peripheral.

“Peter and I were talking- texting last Wednesday and he said he wanted to go with me.” You shrugged putting more food in your mouth. Much to your dismay, your pops sat quietly waiting to see what else you would say.

“He’s coming over tomorrow to watch Tangled with me. The dance is ‘Modern Fairytale’ themed and Pete wants to go as Rapunzel and Flynn.” Your father nodded his head in thought and you wanted to evaporate from existence.

You hate talking about Peter with your father, not because of anything he’s done, but rather, because you used to tell him (almost) everything. You would gush over every phone call and text, every sweet word and kiss.

Your father was well aware of how much you liked this boy and he was completely aware of how badly he had broken your heart. Your father was so excited for you and you almost feel like you’re letting him down being stuck in…whatever this is with Peter.

“Are you guys doing a full costume or what? When’s the dance? Do you have enough time?” You almost giggled at your dad’s rising concern in his questioning.

“We’re probably just gonna match the colours, kinda like Disney Bounding. I’m not sure how Pete’s gonna pull off the blue vest and brown pants but he’ll figure something out, I’m sure.” Your father seemed a little more relaxed now that he didn’t have to panic-stitch a costume together with you.

“Have you got a dress yet?” You told him you hadn’t had the chance yet and he grins.

“Good, we can go shopping together! Unless…you’d rather go with your friends.” His smile tightened and you felt grateful that your dad was willing to make such sacrifices, to let you do things on your own and come to him on your own. You grabbed his hand resting on the table and gave it a short squeeze.

“No chance. Besides, a friend wouldn’t foot the bill.” You and your father chuckled and it felt nice. Talking to your pops is one of your favourite things and you really have missed this.

Tag List: @andrews-lovr @brinaslittlefreak @cherriescherriesred25 @defrosting-strawberries @djdre92 @drunkangels @fanfics-intead-of-depression @heejinw0rld @ilovemoonknight @jedisstark @negasonic-teenage-asshole @preciousbabypeter @princesskittycatofmeowland @qualitybeliverflower @rudy-the-winged-wolf @wannapizzamymindposts @whoreforklitz

[bretongirlwrites]

The asks for Julianne

for julianne i went for the general and background questions...

Name: Julianne Traven

Associated game/era: Oblivion, born in 3E 392

Race: Breton

Sexual orientation: very ace

Class (or a general description of their skillset): mage, specialising in alteration, alchemy and restoration

Background

Is this character from their race's home province/territory? If not, what is their relationship with the region? Do they feel a connection to it?

julianne, her sister and her mother are all from anvil, which is her very favourite city in the world. her father's family moved from high rock with the usual excuse: to escape the petty politics and oppressive societal norms. julianne has visited daggerfall a handful of times - the first time perfectly under the illusion that she'd immediately feel an affinity to it: so she was startled when she did not. found herself lost among dark timber frames, and a dialect she'd only ever known second-hand

Where did they grow up? A city? A village? Isolated, in the wilderness? What was it like to leave?

the traven's house is right in the centre of anvil, a pretty affair near to the mages' guild: and while julianne has spent most of her life now living in the imperial city, she misses anvil intensely, and often goes back, - far less hurried; much more friendly; and the dank and close rumare fog is a far cry from the infinite liberated sea breezes of home

What was their childhood like? Who raised them? Do they have siblings?

hannibal and myriam traven were always decent enough parents, - a little on the strict side perhaps; and always encouraging the best of their children; but kind and adoring, and attentive to their budding interests...

julianne taking to magic at a young age, she was often taken to the mages’ guildhall to watch the other mages at work; and being fond of reading, had more books than you could shake a stick at. it was only natural she’d follow in her father’s footsteps: she has always looked up to him, and he was always her most ardent teacher

her sister corinne is less academic; but that does not mean they don’t get on. indeed when julianne’s life starts to diverge from corinne’s - and in some cases quite drastically, when the latter joins the city watch and the former joins the thieves’ guild - julianne misses her, and feels nostalgic for their joint upbringing

If they are an adventurer, why did they choose that life? Did they choose it at all?

‘i am an adventurer in spirit,’ julianne might say: and indeed her imagination wanders far and wide, even when her daily walks only wind over city isle or the gold coast clifftops. when however she finds herself in truly dangerous situations, she is quite out of her depth: only knowing battle-magics theoretically; and finding the reality of endless forest and damp socks to be perfectly unbearable, compared with dreaming in an armchair with a nice mug of hot chocolate

Do they worship any gods? Who? How do they feel about the gods in general?

in theory, julianne favours julianos, as the preferred god of mage-scholars; in practice, it’s more because she’s named for him than anything else. really she is a bit indifferent towards the gods - believes they exist; but is mostly religious out of cultural tradition, going to chapel on special occasions, but not often thinking about it otherwise. her ventures as an occasional bellringer in anvil were all out of love of music, and nothing out of association of that music with dibellan theories of art

it’s only during the daedric (and aedric) interventions of the oblivion crisis that she really starts to question the beliefs she’s never really bothered with... the influence of marianne, who despite being the grey fox is fond of the aedra (especially mara and zenithar), also tilts her a little towards more regular chapel-visiting, if only as a gesture of acknowledgement

What are their interpersonal relationships like? Are they close with many people?

she is gregarious when the occasion calls for it; and indeed may be seen by some as perfectly sociable; but in truth has a small circle of close friends, and finds it difficult to make new ones out of acquaintances

her best friend at the university is tara-lei, a brilliant but rather more sensible mage who helps keep her from becoming excessively distracted. marianne is also one of her greatest friends - a partner in crime, you might say, who fills a little of the gap left by childhood antics with corinne

What guilds do they join? Are they committed to those guilds, or are they mostly in them for the benefits?

the mages’ guild is her life and love - she never anticipated becoming arch-mage; but really it’s the perfect role for her, since she has ever been so devoted to it. devoted enough, indeed, almost to die for it, when mannimarco threatened all that she held dear... it’s an admirable aim, to make magical resources and instruction available to all: that is what has stuck with her ever since she first read the guild-charter. when she visited the original guild-hall in firsthold, she almost fainted from excitement

the thieves’ guild is a more occasional occupation: but that does not mean she is not committed to it. she admires the grey fox more than most of the cyrodiil nobility, and almost romanticises the robin-hood-esque mission of the guild. while she rarely undertakes any actual thefts, she becomes essential in the legwork for them - in researching, in enabling, in training. and then when it’s done there’s a warm hearth in a strangely cosy little house on the waterfront; friends of value infinitely beyond their means; and life lessons to be learnt, always

[leaguepremsinfo]

name: hopeful agnes jones age: twenty-one nationality: american location: nomadic, moves across the country occupation: nun. muderer family: portia agnes jones, mother, bellringer, babysitter. orson jones, father, caretaker. mona jones, sister, deceased. judd jones, brother, training to become a reverend. paul jones, brother, pianist. denzel jones, brother, butcher.

hope's upbringing was that of a typical member of an evangelical family in the south. the family's world was very much centered around church, with her three older brothers totally immersed in the goings on at all points; one played piano, one helped with the bells, one trailed after the clergy. her father was the caretaker of their church, her mother a bellringer who ran an after-school babysitting service for local families. they were upstanding, though not without tragedy; the shadow of what would be the eldest child hung over the family and was spoken about with empathy by all who knew them. mona would surely be married with children by now.

yes, the family was upstanding, though plagued with further upset as hope grew. pets would be found dead and mangled, her brothers would get wrapped up in silly accidents, her mother accidentally ingested things she shouldn't have and became sick more than a few times..

in school, hope flew tragically under the radar, never wanting to make a big song or dance out of things. sure, she had passions, sure she had opinions, but she would never voice them, never speak about them unless directly called upon and pressed. her grades were good, her work was neat - if you asked teachers or alumni about hope jones, they'd struggle to remember the girl who sat smack bang in the middle of classes. she was forgettable, something that would serve her well at a later date.

when hope turned eighteen and wrapped up her education, she found herself called to the church, much like the rest of her family - having always worshipped with zeal, she was excited to finally dedicate her entire being to the Lord and packed her bags to become a nun. at last! she'd be a sister! it wasn't easy, she tried scouring to find a good fit for her and found it in an isolated spot somewhere far more rural than their own little village.

st catharine's was run by a group of strict elders, who offered to help young women gain their theology degree, help build their skills and experiences and give them practical work along the way. it was all a little unorthodox and her mother was not best pleased when she did a little more research and found out that they were their own denomination, that they weren't going to be helping her daughter follow in the path that led to a spot among their own ranks. she especially didn't like the look of father hartnell, the man who oversaw the entire convent. father hartnell who'd phoned hope out of nowhere one day and offered her a place, apparently hearing from someone that she was looking for a post.

not much is known about st catharine's, there's no real paper trail, there's nothing much the locals know, authorities barely knows it exists. they never link the disappearances of local young men to the ramshackle convent, never noticed that the speight of missing young men across the state and then country could be directly linked back to the group.. they never could do the research or ask the right questions, chasing shadows and false information, so never found out about how hope was found to be the holiest of women in their ranks, how she'd been plucked from the convent by the father himself and packed off in his car to serve at various churches all over america. they never heard of how more and more people were heading down to that awfully rural little spot to set up shop, build small houses, settle their families in.

hope's a killer, there's no way around it -- she has murdered men who are deemed unholy, she has heard the lord talk to her (was it the lord? she was unsure), felt his hand guide her weapon.. she's felt his presence in those moments, in the moments where father would preach at others' churches, where he'd put her on the street to bat lashes at the same men whose blood would be spilled later that night. they're doing god's work, she's sure of it.

she's not spoken to her family in three years now.

[toomanyeggs2003]

Been thinking about anxiety a lot lately, and I think one of the main things that helps me cement that fact that everyone has it, and that everyone is going...fucking around and finding out is the fact that: in high school, we went to the doctor and got me meds. I had to miss the last school period because of it.

The next day when I came back, a girl sitting next to me - who was popular. She talked to everybody, she had lots of friends, and she was pretty - turned and asked where I had been. Frankly, a little starstruck, I mumbled out that I went to the doctor, and explained why, and mentioned the new brand of meds I was on.

Lo and behold she turns to me with the brightest smile and says she's on it too.

She fist bumped me and we moved on to our bellringers assignment like nothing happened.

She talked to me a bit more after that and it did help me participate in class more, knowing that someone else understood, someone popular, who spoke out, who RAN FOR STUDENT GOVERNMENT!!!

I doubt she remembers it now, but I think about it a lot. Thanks, girl.