#The necessity of learning French

[rimaakter45]

نگاهی به نظام آموزشی فرانسه

این  نظام آموزشی کشور فرانسه  یک سیستم بسیار متمرکز است که به سه مرحله آموزش ابتدایی، آموزش متوسطه و آموزش عالی تقسیم می شود.

آموزش ابتدایی

آموزش ابتدایی در فرانسه برای کودکان 6 تا 11 ساله اجباری است. این دوره به دو دوره تقسیم می شود: دوره اول (maternelle) و دوره دوم (élémentaire).

در چرخه مادران، کودکان اصول اولیه خواندن، نوشتن و ریاضی را می آموزند. آنها همچنین در مورد رشد اجتماعی و عاطفی یاد می گیرند. در چرخه élémentaire، کودکان به یادگیری اصول اولیه خواندن، نوشتن و ریاضی ادامه می دهند. آنها همچنین در مورد علم، تاریخ و جغرافیا یاد می گیرند.

آموزش متوسطه

تحصیلات متوسطه در فرانسه به دو مرحله تقسیم می شود: دوره متوسطه پایین (کالج) و مرحله متوسطه عالی (لیسه).

مرحله کالج برای دانش آموزان 11 تا 15 ساله اجباری است. در مرحله کالج، دانش آموزان مبانی دروس مختلفی از جمله فرانسه، ریاضیات، علوم، تاریخ و جغرافیا را یاد می گیرند. آنها همچنین فرصت دارند در دروس انتخابی در موضوعاتی مانند موسیقی، هنر و زبان های خارجی شرکت کنند.

مرحله لیسه اجباری نیست، اما اکثر دانش آموزان شرکت را انتخاب می کنند. مرحله لیسه به سه جریان تقسیم می شود: Général (عمومی)، Technologique (تکنولوژیک) و Professionnel (حرفه ای).

در جریان عمومی، دانش آموزان موضوعات مختلف دانشگاهی از جمله فرانسه، ریاضیات، علوم، تاریخ و جغرافیا را یاد می گیرند. آنها همچنین فرصت دارند در دروس انتخابی در موضوعاتی مانند موسیقی، هنر و زبان های خارجی شرکت کنند. جریان عمومی دانشجویان را برای تحصیل در دانشگاه آماده می کند.

در جریان تکنولوژی، دانش آموزان موضوعات فنی مختلفی مانند مهندسی، کشاورزی و گردشگری را یاد می گیرند. جریان تکنولوژی دانش آموزان را برای مشاغل در این زمینه ها آماده می کند.

در جریان حرفه ای، دانش آموزان انواع مهارت های حرفه ای مانند لوله کشی، نجاری و آرایشگری را می آموزند. جریان حرفه ای دانش آموزان را برای مشاغل در این مشاغل آماده می کند.

آموزش عالی

آموزش عالی در فرانسه به سه نوع موسسات اصلی تقسیم می‌شود: دانشگاه‌ها، بزرگان مدارس و مدارس تخصصی.

دانشگاه ها موسسات دولتی هستند که طیف گسترده ای از برنامه های کارشناسی و کارشناسی ارشد را در زمینه های مختلف ارائه می دهند. دانشگاه ها معمولا برای همه دانش آموزانی که دارای مدرک لیسانس (دیپلم دبیرستان فرانسوی) هستند باز است.

Grandes écoles موسسات نخبه ای هستند که برنامه های بسیار گزینشی را در مهندسی، تجارت و سایر زمینه های تخصصی ارائه می دهند. ورود به دانشگاه‌های بزرگ معمولاً دشوارتر از دانشگاه‌ها است و دانش‌آموزان را ملزم به شرکت در آزمون ورودی رقابتی می‌کنند.

مدارس تخصصی موسساتی هستند که برنامه هایی را در زمینه خاصی مانند هنر، طراحی یا مد ارائه می دهند. مدارس تخصصی از نظر گزینش و شرایط پذیرش متفاوت است.

منابع مالی

سیستم آموزشی فرانسه توسط دولت تامین می شود. دولت برای تمام مدارس دولتی از جمله مدارس ابتدایی، دبیرستان ها و دانشگاه ها بودجه تامین می کند. دولت همچنین برای مدارس خصوصی یارانه می دهد.

سیستم آموزشی فرانسه با چالش‌های متعددی مواجه است، از جمله:

• نرخ بالای ترک تحصیل: تعداد قابل توجهی از دانش آموزان فرانسوی قبل از اتمام تحصیلات متوسطه ترک تحصیل می کنند.

• نابرابری های منطقه ای: کیفیت آموزش از منطقه ای به منطقه دیگر به طور قابل توجهی متفاوت است.

• کمبود معلم: در برخی نقاط کشور کمبود معلم وجود دارد.

ابتکارات دولتی

دولت فرانسه اقداماتی را برای مقابله با چالش های پیش روی سیستم آموزشی انجام می دهد. این ابتکارات عبارتند از:

• سرمایه گذاری در آموزش دوران کودکی: دولت در حال سرمایه گذاری در برنامه های آموزش دوران کودکی است تا به کودکان کمک کند تا پایه ای قوی برای یادگیری ایجاد کنند.

• کاهش اندازه کلاس ها: دولت برای بهبود کیفیت آموزش، اندازه کلاس ها را کاهش می دهد.

• بهبود آموزش معلمان: دولت در حال بهبود برنامه های آموزش معلمان است تا اطمینان حاصل کند که معلمان برای آموزش به دانش آموزان خود به خوبی آماده هستند.

• سرمایه گذاری در زیرساخت ها: دولت در حال سرمایه گذاری در زیرساخت ها برای بهبود کیفیت ساختمان ها و امکانات مدارس است.

نتیجه

سیستم آموزشی فرانسه یک سیستم پیچیده با تعدادی نقاط قوت و ضعف است. دولت اقدامات متعددی را برای رفع چالش های پیش روی سیستم انجام می دهد، اما هنوز کارهای زیادی برای انجام دادن وجود دارد. لطفا به اینجا مراجعه کنید  نظام آموزشی کشور فرانسه   برای اطلاعات بیشتر.

[steelycunt]

adding a new language on duolingo will fix me

[oniongarlic]

like not to be a former special ed kid who learned to write at like, basically age 12, but god damn do i ever prefer visual language over written language

[normal-thoughts-official]

In the remote recesses of the world, north even to the great Maghreb, live a people with a weird and offputting cousine.

The French, as they're called, partake in the consumption of unique, and oftentimes alarming, ingredients, such as snails, frogs, fish eggs, and, on occasion, juice made of rotten grapes.

The most surprising part of this appalling cultural norm is that it is not, as no doubt thought our readers, the result of famine or lack of resources. Although mainly known for their violent culture, in which it is widely accepted to burn other people's cars, (and, before modern civilization made its way to the region, even take off helpless people's heads with a giant cleaver called the guillotine), the French also have access to rich resources often not exploited by the modern world. One such place is the Landes forest, home to the adorable rabbit, which recently has become a choice of pet for those leaning towards the exotic.

No, the French don't eat such slimy, questionable items out of necessity; it is by choice. As appalling as it may sound, they actually consider the foods derived from such ingredients to be high cuisine, and dishes containing them can be particularly expensive in the small region's economy.

With the blessing of my editor, and the guarantee that a medical team specializing in gastroenterology would be at the ready in case of an emergency, I agreed to travel to the faraway region to sample some of the so-called "delicacies". They were prepared by real, native Frenchs, although inspected by a health expert to make sure the hygienization was adequate. I've always been an adventurous eater, but even I must admit that the prospect filled me with aprehension. Would I be able to stomach the foreign dishes without getting sick, or worse, offending our arson-happy hosts?

My anxieties were initially heightened by the conversation with the French who hosted me; as is typical in their culture, he was offputting and rude, often commenting on the mistakes I made on the weird, twisting tongue I was doing my best to emulate. Still, in the spirit of cultural acceptance and not getting my head cut off, I accepted his socially inapt behavior with grace.

I must admit that the rotten grapes were what I was most curious about. The juice derived from them, known as wine, is considered a delicacy, and there are hundreds of different types of it. In French culture, there are even people whose entire job is to appoint the correct choice of wine to go with any given food; such men and women are caled sommeliers and held in high regard by French society.

I quickly learned that the making of wine is something of an art to the native Frenchs. As my self-important host dizzied me with endless descriptions of different wine varieties, I realized I may have gotten too deep into the turbulent waters of the unique region's palate. Out of the exhausting and oftentimes confusing technical detail, however, I was able to extract an important piece of information: the extent of the rot is important in the making of wine.

That's right, dear reader: they actually prefer it when the grapes are more rotten! Spanning not only decades, but sometimes whole centuries, the French's grapes are left to rot in humid wooden barrels - a tradition that's been kept alive since the Middle Ages -, becoming thoroughly ruined so that their juice may be extracted for the making of wine. And the longer they have been left decomposing with their local fungus, the more valuable the juice is.

I was simply too curious to wait. And even more delighted to find out about yet another culinary tradition I didn't know about: the social gatherings known as wine and cheese, in which wine is paired with a variety of solid, yellow, rubber-like wheels derived from fat extracted from cows' milk - the cheese.

Such unique, foul-smelling dishes are a frequent part of the everyman French's life, being consumed by rich and poor alike in a variety of different recipes from all sorts of French subregions. Among them, I found yet another that would delight my intellect and terrify my stomach: gorgonzola. To the reader not quite as deep in diving into the intricacies of French culture, I shall explain: gorgonzola is but a piece of the aforementioned cheese, left to mold.

I could not believe my ears. These people drank rotten grapes and paired them with rotten cow fat, and they enjoyed it. What to us would be a nightmare scenario in a case of extreme poverty, and a surefire way to earn a trip to the hospital, to them was a quite enjoyable meal.

I later learned that gorgonzola is actually from a neighboring nation close to the French - the Italians. Although officially considered a different tribe, Italians share much in common with the French, including the love for wine and cheese, a quite long border, and a language derived from the same roots - the long-dead Latin, ancient language in which their holy book, the "Bible", was once written.

I am happy to report that my experimentation did not lead to hospital trips, and the most I got was an unusually long carsickness. But I have taken with me much more than the curious experience: traveling to France has helped me expand my horizons, meet new people, and connect with cultures other than my own. Although violent and offputting, the French can be quite amorous, and I was even gifted a piece of cheese from a little girl. It is not an experience I would like to repeat anytime soon, but it's made for an interesting story that helped me grow as a writer, investigative journalist, and, most of all, eater.

I can only hope my stomach has taken some good lessons out of the experience, too.

Cremilda Castanho is a writer, cat-lover, and known foodie, with a knack for finding unexplored depths of cuisine across the world. Her book, What Weirdos Eat, was a Folha de São Paulo best seller, and paved the way for culinary exploration in journalism, earning her a Pulitzer prize.

[nebuladreamerrr]

Holaaa can I request another Mbappe imagine where you’re married to Kylian but somehow his family never noticed that you don’t drink. While you’re at his parent’s house and his mom offers you wine you told her no thanks. And she got a mini heart attack thinking you were announcing that you’re pregnant😂

I hope you like it, sweetheart ❤️❤️❤️

Problematic beverage| Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: To commemorate you and Kylian's last night in France you decide to have a farewell dinner, but one drink will set off alarm bells among all the guests.

Warnings: English is not my first language, and I am not a doctor so some medical information might be wrong. 

As I indulged in a tranquil shower and meticulously selected my attire for the upcoming occasion, a sense of gratitude washed over me knowing that the celebration would be held at my mother-in-law's residence. While venturing out to explore new culinary delights with Kylian was a beloved pastime, today, the allure of a cozy night at home held greater appeal.

Since the morning, I had been grappling with slight abdominal discomfort, but it was the violent expulsion of my breakfast that sent alarm bells ringing. A sigh escaped my lips, a reflexive response to the familiar discomfort that had plagued me since childhood. From a young age, I had endured sporadic bouts of stomach pain, often coinciding with stressful events like ballet competitions or pivotal exams.

My mother, recognizing the pattern of discomfort over time and the occasional severity of the pain, decided to seek medical advice. It was then confirmed by the doctor that I was suffering from chronic pancreatitis. Fortunately, this diagnosis did not thwart my aspirations nor impede my plans. Nevertheless, there were limitations imposed by my condition, one of them being the prohibition of alcohol consumption.

I vividly recall the bewildered expression on my face when the doctor delivered the news that alcohol was off-limits due to its potential exacerbation of my condition. Despite having never partaken in revelry or imbibed alcohol, I comprehended its central role in youthful socialization. I anticipated feeling excluded and feared it would hinder my ability to forge friendships. However, fortune smiled upon me as I found companions who reveled in diverse activities, such as leisurely picnics punctuated by impromptu art sessions and beach outings adorned with sunset photography. While occasional forays into nightlife did occur, they were infrequent. Moreover, my aversion to alcohol transcended mere medical necessity; it stemmed from a profound apprehension regarding its transformative effects on individuals, a sentiment that prompted a steadfast commitment to abstention.

I crossed paths with Kylian at a charity gala where young French athletes, each with an inspiring tale to share, were invited to engage with children and organize activities, with the proceeds earmarked for various charitable causes. His speech resonated deeply with me, capturing both his pride and underlying sense of unease at being in the spotlight. His exact words, etched in my memory, were: "It's in these moments that I often feel out of place because, despite many of you seeking wisdom from me, it's I who must truly learn from all of you and your resilience in the face of adversity." Fortunately, I also captured his attention. When my presentation concluded, he couldn't resist approaching me, ostensibly to delve deeper into my world as we leisurely meandered through the buffet arrayed by the gala's organizers.

His heart nearly skipped a beat when I declined his offer of wine, yet my reassuring smile assuaged his concern as I disclosed my health condition, explaining the potential ramifications of alcohol consumption. Eager to learn more about me, Kylian exhibited a genuine interest in every facet of my life: from my ballet classes and training regimen to the nuances of my medication routine and anything remotely connected to me. Thus, a swift friendship blossomed between us, evolving into a profound romantic bond over the course of just a few months—a connection I wouldn't trade for anything in this world.

Four years ago, when we embarked on our relationship, we were both young and full of energy. Kylian, in particular, made the most of his free time by hanging out with friends, often leading to lively gatherings. Despite this, Kylian maintained a sense of discipline and restraint when it came to alcohol consumption. Instances of indulgence were typically reserved for national festivities or significant triumphs for his team or the national squad. However, everything changed when he met me. Suddenly, I became his top priority.

Kylian's transformation was profound. He meticulously documented all of my medications in a calendar, ensuring that I adhered to my prescribed regimen. If he couldn't be present when I needed to take my medication, he set an alarm to remind me. Additionally, he curtailed his social outings significantly, and on many occasions, he refused to attend events if I couldn't accompany him. When we did venture out together, our excursions were brief, as Kylian was adamant about not subjecting me to any discomfort.

On our wedding day, Kylian solemnly declared that his every decision would revolve around me, promising never to take any action that didn't prioritize my well-being above all else.

Thankfully, my illness never prevented me from attending any of Kylian's games. He cherished my presence, considering me his "lucky charm." It was through these matches that I had the pleasure of meeting my in-laws, whom Kylian introduced me to after one such game. As the Ligue 1 season progressed, so did my relationship with his parents, and I couldn't help but feel blessed by the bond we shared. Kylian's parents took immense pride in their son's career, and when I mentioned my occasional ballet performances, they eagerly pledged their attendance at my next show. This promise was fulfilled a few months ago when I took to the stage, greeted by the sight of my partner and his parents in the audience.

The decision to depart from France proved to be a challenging ordeal for both of us. It was a place that held significance for each of us individually; for Kylian, it was where he found trust and unwavering support, particularly during his darkest moments. Likewise, for me, it served as the backdrop for my personal and artistic growth, particularly in my beloved pursuit of ballet. However, I was acutely aware that leaving France would entail a narrowing of job prospects, given that few other nations accorded dance, especially ballet, the same level of priority.

Thus, when Kylian broached the idea of a modest gathering to mark the conclusion of a significant chapter in our lives, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. Initially slated to unfold at a private restaurant in the heart of Paris, a venue Kylian frequented with his friends and where he once celebrated his maiden PSG paycheck, the plans swiftly shifted. Sensing my discomfort on the eve of the event, Kylian promptly altered course, opting instead to host the gathering at his mother's residence—a more proximate locale to our abode. Here, I could seek respite in the guest room if my discomfort intensified, shielded from any prying eyes or unwelcome scrutiny.

With a sense of urgency, I hastened to complete my preparations, summoning Kylian to assist with the delicate task of fastening the gray satin dress adorning my frame. His admiring whistle upon beholding me in the garment, accompanied by the endearing epithet "my beautiful woman," served to ignite a flutter of warmth within me, intensified by the tender kiss planted upon my collarbone.

As we stepped into my mother-in-law's abode, she greeted me with an exuberant embrace, sharing how she had procured my favorite appetizers and guiding me toward the others, while Kylian grumbled behind me, visibly "irritated" by his mother's preference for embracing me first. In response, I couldn't resist playfully sticking out my tongue.

Upon crossing the threshold onto the terrace, Kylian's friends extended warm welcomes. Kylian, ensuring my comfort and safety, opted to leave me engaged in a delightful conversation with Melissa and his mother.

"How are you, y/n? I was genuinely concerned when Kylian mentioned you weren't feeling well," Fayza remarked, her tone laden with worry.

"I've been better, but thankfully, at the moment, my discomfort is limited to stomach issues, so things are more or less manageable for now," I responded, seeking to allay their concerns.

"Well, y/n, do tell us. Have you managed to secure a place with any academy or instructor for your inaugural performance in Spain?" Melissa inquired eagerly.

"I've reached out to several, but I've had to turn down many options because they weren't the right fit for me. They seemed more interested in my relationship with Kylian than my craft. However, in recent days, I've connected with one that genuinely seemed invested in me, so let's hope this one pans out."

"Sweetheart, can I get you a glass of wine while you continue telling us about the move?" Fayza asked, retrieving a bottle from an ice bucket.

"No, it's okay. I can't have wine because of my condition," I replied with a smile, which quickly faded when I noticed everyone falling silent and Fayza dropping the bottle to the floor.

"When were you planning on telling us?" Ethan teased his brother.

"Telling us what, exactly?" Kylian asked, attempting to lock eyes with me for an explanation, but my cluelessness only heightened his concern.

"That y/n is pregnant," Fayza blurted out, barely able to overcome her shock.

"What?!" Kylian and I exclaimed, unable to shake off our bewilderment at his family's confusion.

"Yes, it all makes sense now: y/n's frequent vomiting, her occasional dizziness, her abdominal discomfort, and her abstaining from alcohol," Melissa exclaimed excitedly, envisioning her children having a cousin to play with.

"What? No, no, there's been a misunderstanding. I can't drink because of my illness, and Kylian and I... no, we're not planning for a baby right now," I explained nervously, seeking Kylian's confirmation of my statement.

"Exactly, as she said, for now, we won't know for three weeks," Kylian chimed in, attempting to lighten the mood with a joke, but his attempt fell flat when met with my glare of disapproval.

Gradually, the atmosphere returned to normal as Fayza apologized to both of us for her reaction. It wasn't that she didn't want grandchildren; she simply thought we had chosen to keep it a secret and would find out through the media when her son was abroad.

And so, we savored our final evening together, cherishing the memories to bring comfort in times of homesickness. However, Kylian couldn't help but hope that the next time we entered that house, it would be to announce a pregnancy.

[moomeylian]

Every time tankies accuse a Venezuelan of being rich just because they speak English I laugh very hard because it shows how egocentric they are. They can't conceive someone learning a language by themselves because most entertainment and academical papers are in English and they don't have the necessity or motivation to learn another language.

I basically learned it by myself because I wanted to play mystic messenger and since my family didn't have the money to put me in an English academy and I'm incredibly stubborn, I downloaded many grammars and spent the holidays reading them and watching English teacher's videos on YouTube. Then, I was in contact with language through fanfiction and later when I started my degree I also had to read papers in English for my essays and stuff. I'm also a bit of a language nerd so I'm doing something similar with French.

Is it easy? Of couse it isn't.

Would I have done it if I didn't have the necessity? I don't think so, I only learned about my passion for languages once I started learning English because of necessity.

It takes time, motivation and a lot of effort, but it's not impossible. And it is racist, diminishing and dehumanizing to assume people can only learn languages if they have the money to pay for it. It makes it easier, but it's not a requirement.

People have learned languages because of necessity for ages.

[rubyroboticalt]

Minecrafters grab your pickaxes, and catch up on the QBLR QUARTERLY!

what's up guys, you just found the internet's first hellsite smp! what's qblr you ask? well, you see, the explanation is perfectly simple and scientific: my brother you are on qblr. this is the qsmp fan tumblr. some of us made a server. and now, let me learn you a thing about all the events and mishaps that happened on the server this week!

the server opened with players and creatures running around the world trying to survive the first nights on a modded world, to varying degrees of success

as days pass, residents begin to encounter monsters tough enough to warrant better lodging and armor. with these reinforced shelters and better gear, the residents begin to form friendships!

the friends share food, homes, and gear. sounds like communism. are they communist or something? actually, that makes perfect sense what with the minecraft and all.

residents sort themselves into groups mostly by timezone and playstyle. being a server inspired by the qsmp, timezones mean that groups speaking different languages stick together and build together.

the french build a stone circle, form a traveling band, and create an inn providing basic necessities like food and beds.

others make their own homes, and an axolotl pond pops up!

the hispanic folk also have a lovely start, with cozy furnishings and no other reports from this side of the server.

and now, a reading from r/EnglishLivingSpaces. white jacaranda walls. plain spruce floor. circular room, with a 1-wide 2-tall window for each 5-wide edge wall of the circle, two windows total. green bed under the window, facing a log pillar in the center of the room. two stacks of loose papers on the right side of the room. a sign reading "r/malelivingspaces" placed next to the bed. this has been a reading of r/EnglishLivingSpaces.

the server celebrated 4/13 by having a fruity rumpus cult party. festivities included drugs and alcohol introduced by some of the mods installed on the server.

and now, the gubby.

bad boy hooters opened to celebrate all the big booby badboys out there in the wild. i always do appreciate a good use of the expression hooters. and as a safe house from the nightmare stalkers that seem to be thriving on the fear and pain they cause, it gets many a visit.

residents continue to build and decorate, with fun and games in between.

folks play for reasonable amounts of time, with two days played in 5 days of server uptime by one ambitious player.

finally, everyone is building interiors to their houses now, with the dining room being a popular place to take photos.

some late bloomers also complete the exteriors of their -- that's not a house, thats a taqueria.

and the first week on the server closes with absolutely nothing ominous happening.

[bloggingboutburgers]

How/when did you learn English?

At school and online. Pretty much by necessity. Here, and I trust in most non-English-speaking countries, it's a must business-wise to be considered for most jobs, and it's a must socially online to be able to keep up with most things.

Also back then dubbing and subtitling in my language took weeks, if not months, if not years to get released, IF it got released at all, so I started consuming most things in English whenever I could to actually keep up with things.

Also (but very much background considering what I shared above) I'm a translator/localizer/French and English copywriter by trade, so I've been interested in languages for quite a while anyway.

[lucysarah-c]

Hey, could you write a story between levi and reader , where levi has to get married to a girl (because she's a rich girl and he is a ceo of a huge company) but he's already dating reader. So.. in this story reader and levi are just passing their last night together before the wedding?

(BTW I really like your post!!!)

"We gather here today,"

Four words pronounced before the most antagonist events ever. It's as if you could hear them as he crossed the door of your flat. Dark raven locks stained by the little snowflakes from the outside reflected under the yellowish light of the candles, as night had set in long ago. You had wished he was right there, right now, multiple times during the past two weeks since the news was delivered. It made you wonder if it was another dream, another specter from your wildest fantasies. Because that's the only thing you had been doing since—coming back to your place after work, pouring yourself a glass of any alcohol you had, and waiting. Waiting at your bed, sitting down on the couch in the living room, or on the kitchen floor, pacing around the room. Crying and falling asleep, but only shortly, because insomnia was as natural as the desperation at this rate. Red eyes, tears making your skin puffy and dry each day, each moment.

"We gather here today to say goodbye to a beloved…"

Your heart stopped for a split second as he turned around to face you while he closed the place you two used to call your own. The deep green French trench coat with the wings of freedom behind it. The split second that you caught a glimpse of his face after all this time and probably for the last time, you couldn't help but tear up. Which you hated, because it clouded your view, and the last thing you desired was to lose a single minute of this. It was a necessity, a demand, a right, a desperation. Quick steps on the wood planks echoing, probably neighbors underneath cursing your name in this instant. Combat boots rushing to you, his hands picked you up in a hurry. Your hands had memory and necessity on their own, quickly they gripped his face and hair. Tugging from it, trying to imprint in your touch the memory of it as a blind person learns the touch of Braille.

Desperate lips colliding against each other, mouths prying open to breathe each other's breath away for a million times that night but the last for a lifetime. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as if your life depended on it as his enveloped your legs around his hips. You two could have done it there, in the middle of the living room or perhaps on the kitchen countertop as that time you two got a little too handy while preparing dinner. He would blame that time on that cute sundress you had on. But not this time, this required the classic setting of a bed and the intimacy of a bedroom.

Your nightgown rising up as he carried you around the place he knew like the back of his hand. Softly placing you on the mattress.

"I…" Levi broke the kiss for the first time, speaking up. His face seemed conflicted, and his eyes hurt.

But the hand that was holding his face ran a thumb through his parted lips as the endearing sight was enough, "Shhhh don't say anything,"

'Don't lie to me, don't tell me the truth. Don't remain quiet, do not raise your voice, but above all, do not ask me for forgiveness,'

It was passionate, slow but needy. As if you two were back to being teenagers losing their virginity, not trying to rush it, covered in love but also eager to finally be intertwined all night. Under the milky light of the moon, your body shined by the sheer sweat of it, hair falling backward like a waterfall. Who cared if someone could see it from the street, someone returning home late or perhaps running from it. Turning the lights would break the moment but you needed to see him. See his frown expression as he forced himself to not lose a single detail, his tinted cheeks, his dark hair sticking to his forehead as his parted lips gasped your name. Fingers sinking into the flesh of your hips as your hands sank their nails into his shoulders for leverage but also for possessiveness. Somehow both of you wished the marks you left on each other would remain forever, like a permanent tattoo.

"I love you," his voice shook with emotion. Is there a worse curse in this life than forcing someone to never say those three words again?

"Life is so unfair," what we all think when something forcefully parts our ways in life, leaving us devoid of explanation but filled with only one answer: learning to live without it.

It's dead, and that night was its funeral. Perhaps that's why your black attire, as you heard from the last seat of the avenue, "We gather here today…

to celebrate the union of these two souls,"

You promised yourself not to cry as someone promised to never drink again after a wild night. Both oaths done after the consequences but never upheld. Perhaps you should have dressed in red, to send the message. 'I fucked the groom, I'm fucking the groom, I'll fuck the groom,' but she didn't deserve such humiliation and petty acts. It wasn't her fault; she has been dragged into this as much as him. And it felt petty to be angry at someone who looked at him so full of hopes. The most important day of her life, the day she had been dreaming and promised of since she was a little girl. Her eyes glittered with naive hope that perhaps, despite the circumstances, he would be the prince in shining armor she had been sweet-talked about.

It offended you and also raised the most utter adoration out of him. His integrity. Because you knew, you knew as the sky was blue that it was over. Because Levi would never look at another woman, he would never betray his wife even if this was arranged. He was simply that noble. What captivated you about him was also killing what you two created.

What postmortem activity it was, observing the death of you two by coming to his wedding.

I hope you liked this little piece!! Thank you so much for requesting this, I had a great time writing it. I hope it was good enough! Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[g0blintears]

[Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

Summary: You are a mystery to both the survivors and killers within the fog. A servant of darkness, a creature created by the entity itself, you are the shadow behind the scenes that provides the survivors with the necessities they need to survive, while also assisting killers with the weapons they need to sacrifice. You are a servant void of humanity, but not one that seeks out despair. An empty slate that perhaps just needs to be taught a little bit of hope and empathy to help the survivors escape once and for all.

Seven. Dark Sense

Time worked differently in the realm. Sunlight didn’t exist, and the sky was always painted a dark, inky black. Nothing was ever overgrown, and the survivors never knew when they were going to be summoned into a trial until they found themselves alone with only three other people in the middle of an abandoned campfire. If it wasn’t for the entity’s servant, who would often have a routine schedule for meal time, they wouldn’t have ever known when it was the appropriate time to eat and sleep.

Now having woken up from his rest, Felix, along with all the other survivors, found themselves sitting at various tables with their trays of plain bread and baked potatoes placed in front of them.

Currently, Felix sat in front of his childhood best friend, Élodie Rakoto. Wearing a loose fitted, long sleeve crop top that complimented the pendant wrapped around her neck, and dark black jeans that fitted for comfort, said woman with coily black hair and dark brown eyes was someone who usually carried herself with a smile of confidence and a face that always looked like she was coming up with mischief. However, as he whispered to her the current theories some of the other survivors had previously talked about, the woman couldn’t help but look at her blond friend in worry.

“You guys are planning to, what?” She asked in a whisper shout. Her eyes darted both left and right as she made sure to keep her voice low from wandering ears. “Are you guys actually doing this?”

“Well, the plan isn’t really in motion. We still want to gather more details and see if this is even worth working out. But, if they do show any signs of being capable to evolve, we will plan this out more thoroughly.” 

Élodie looked at Felix, dumbfounded before scoffing. With her fork, she dug into her potatoes. "You guys are crazy. So crazy." She muttered, her thick French accent seeping with each syllable. Stuffing her mouth with the unseasoned potatoes, she continued, "But if this plan of yours works, make sure the servant of darkness learns how to season. This shit tastes awful."

Felix sighed, “We’re being serious.”

“And so am I!” She exclaimed, pointing at Felix with her potato still attached to her fork. “Look at this! It’s not even cooked all the way! Last week Ace’s potato wasn’t even cooked! He and David ended up playing hackysack with it.”

Ignoring her words, Felix frowned. “I actually thought you’d be more optimistic about this.” 

Ever since he met Élodie on Dyer Island, Felix knew that she was someone who was stubborn and assertive. Élodie was always down for an adventure, someone who was willing to take risks. A troublemaker if you will. So imagine his surprise when his usually devious friend looked at him the way he usually looked at her whenever she had something crazy planned. 

Rolling her eyes, Élodie placed down her fork and sighed. “Look, we all want to escape, but trying to escape through the entity’s servant? That’s crazy! What if it backfires? We don’t know what happens to people that step out of line. It hasn’t been recorded. Hell, we don’t even know what happened to the people that were in this realm before us. All we have is that journal.” She then motioned to the book under Felix’s arm.

At her words, the man subconsciously gripped the leather binder. 

“And it hasn’t really been as helpful as we had hoped.”

Felix pursed his lips, “I know. But it’s a start, don’t you think?” The male’s grey eyes clashed with his friend’s dark brown eyes, his stare bored into her with desperation. “How long are we going to be here? How many more deaths are we all going to be forced to endure? If there is another way to escape this hell, why not take it? What exactly do we have to lose?” 

“We don’t know-” She began to answer, but was cut off by the blond.

“Exactly! We don’t know. Élodie, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been one to never shy away from the unknown. Back in Dyer Island, you were the one to encourage us to step out of our comfort zone. You were the one to tell us to accept ourselves, but to also be open minded to chance. You lead us to grand adventures, and that in itself should show how incredibly clever and brave you are. So why not take one more risk?” Although desperate, Felix’s words held his truth as he reminded his friend of their days back in their youth.

As he looked at his friend expectantly, Élodie chose to ignore his last question and instead crossed her arms over her chest and rose an eyebrow at the male. “Trying to use your flattery skills on me to get on my good side now, huh? Very sneaky of you, Ritcher.” 

For a moment, the male didn’t know how to respond. But as soon as he caught a glimpse of her smile, the male shook his head and let out an airy chuckle, “But it’s working, right?” 

Élodie hummed, “Very tempting, but I still think it’s a bad idea.” She then looked at Felix with a grimace on her face. “Plus, I don’t know how I can be of any help. You should know better than anyone that my memories and yours aren’t all there.”

Felix’s brows furrowed, the once laid back attitude he had with his friend diminished as he mulled over her words. 

“I know, but I still think you could help me explain some things to the others better. Unlike everyone else here, we at least grew up knowing of the entity’s existence before arriving here- especially you. You have at least some knowledge of creatures similar to the entity and its servant. That’s why we wanted to let you know what was going on. You can give us some more insight from your own experiences.”

Élodie looked around once more. Speaking of you and the entity made her skin crawl, almost as if you were listening to the two of them speak at that very moment.

“I don’t know…” She trailed off. Although she was unsure, Felix was right. They couldn’t go on like this. The pain of dying was agonizing, especially in the most brutal ways. At this point, she wanted to die and just stay dead. But of course, that wasn’t an option. So if they had to resort to wild theories, maybe it could possibly lead to somewhere better than here.

But there’s still a chance that this could end badly, very badly. She couldn’t think of what could possibly happen. Afterall, they’ve endured it all. What if there’s more though? Something worse? What could be worse than death in a form of recycled torture? 

She didn’t know. 

She wanted to take the risk, but at the same time, she felt hesitant. The last time she went into something without a plan, she had led her and her friends' parents to vanish. Her memories were foggy. She couldn’t remember much of that day, but she did remember that she was the reason the entity took them. She remembered the distraught and regret she felt once she exited that lab, but not with her parents. She remembered the spiral of obsession she went through trying to find them, all of it leading to where she is now. 

Into the unknown.

This plan, if gone through, could end badly. And she wasn’t sure if she could endure another incident like that again. Her once obsessed mind was now beginning to heal after all those years of guilt. Could she really go through it all again? Squeezing the fork in her hand, the woman shook her head. She couldn’t.

As though reading her thoughts, Felix reached out his arm from across the table, and squeezed his friend’s hand. Instantly, Élodie was brought out of her thoughts and gazed over at Felix with wide eyes. 

“I know what you’re thinking, and I promise we will be careful. You don’t have to help if you don’t want to, but I know your strengths and I know you could help us plan this out.” Giving the top of her hand one last squeeze, the male sent her a wink and a small smile. “Afterall, The Pariahs are smart and fearless, remember?”

Reminding her of their childhood friend group name, the woman instantly regained her confidence. She chuckled and shook her head, “Alright. Alright. I get it.” Pushing his hand away, Élodie went back to eating her now cold food. “Fine, I’m in.”

Brushing back his blond hair, the male grinned at his friend. “Good.”

Looking around for a bit, Felix watched as most of the survivors dispersed after their meals. One after the other, they all walked their separate ways until finally Dwight, Feng Min, Yun-Jin, Zarina, and Adam joined Felix and Élodie at their table.

Once the group was together, Felix spoke to the group.

“Élodie says she’s in.”

“That’s great! The more the merrier.” Zarina exclaimed, then clasped her hands together before gazing upon the group. “So, how’s this going to work?” 

“Well, we should figure out if this plan has the possibility of even working.” Adam interjected, “We don’t want to be too hopeful. We could be unintentionally screwing ourselves over by feeding the entity if we do so.”

“Mm, good point.” Min hummed, “Does that mean we shouldn’t tell the others?”

“Probably not.” Dwight muttered, and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “We don’t want to give false hope to the others and as Adam said, feed the entity. So let’s try keeping this to ourselves.”

“Okay, so don’t tell the others and don’t be too hopeful. What else?” Min quirked an eyebrow, looking at the group that turned to Dwight and Felix.

Dwight cleared his throat, “Well, since Élodie‘s agreed to help us, we can review what we do and don’t know.” His gaze then went over to Yun-Jin who was sitting at the far end of the table. “Especially since we have a newcomer in the realm.”

All eyes went to Yun-Jin, who brushed back her hair to hide her discomfort.

Élodie nodded, “Right. Sorry, I never introduced myself.” She then sent Yun-Jin a brief smile and a curt wave of her hand, “Élodie Rakoto, occult investigator.”

“Oh!” Yun-Jin’s eyes widened at this new piece of information. That explains why the others were so adamant on scheduling another group meeting but with Élodie involved. “So you’re familiar with all this stuff?”

“Yes. Both Felix and I have a bit of knowledge on the realm since we both grew up together, me a little more since I decided to make a career out of it.”

“Wait, you two knew each other outside the realm?”

Élodie snickered, “Yes, our parents were part of the same group called Imperiatti.” She then rubbed her temple in thought. Her eyes screwed shut as she tried to recall any of her memories, but as always, came back with nothing but static.

“Honestly I wish I could tell you guys what they did, but as most of you guys know, neither Felix or I have any memories of our lives that involve the entity or its servant. We just know that our parents were part of some sketchy ancient council that had something to do with the entity.”

“It wasn’t like worship, right?” Yun-Jin cut in, eyes wide as she stared at Élodie. She didn’t mean to sound judgmental, but from her perspective, if the two grew up worshiping the entity, she knew she could not trust them. “You guys weren’t part of a cult, were you?”

Élodie turned to her with a frown, “No. Well, we weren’t at least. I can’t speak for our parents, but I highly doubt it. When our parents were taken, I remember how scared they were for us. They fought off the entity. I just don’t remember what they did, but they ward it away long enough for us to escape.” 

Min groaned, “So we don’t know anything other than the basics from the journal. Great.”

“Journal?” Yun-Jin repeated, just as Felix raised up the book for her view. A dark leather bound book with yellow tinted pages was in full display as he placed the book in the middle of the table.

“It’s a journal written by a past survivor named Benedict Baker.”

Yun-Jin’s breath hitched in her throat, “Wait, what do you mean past survivor? There were others before us?” She then focused her eyes on Dwight, “People were here before you? I thought you, Meg, and the others showed up here alone?”

“We were alone.” Dwight confirmed, “When the four of us— me, Claudette, Meg, and Jake, when we arrived here, we were here alone. No other survivors. Just us at the campfire with the servant to greet us.”

Yun-Jin brought her hands to cover her mouth, “Oh my god. So there is a way to escape? Right? If there were others here before, where did they go?”

The group looked amongst themselves. 

“We don’t know.” Zarina interjected, her voice soft as she gazed down at the journal. “The journal just stops after ten entries. He claimed that it was becoming too much. His sanity was slipping and his hope shattered, so he left the journal behind. He apparently wrote more, but pages have been torn out.” 

Fuck.

Yun-Jin ran her fingers through her hair. Just as soon as she felt the sense of justified hope, it all came crashing down. “So we don’t know what happened to them?” She whispered.

More silence ensued.

“Well, from what Benedict wrote, with each "death" we become weaker. Little pieces of our souls get consumed by the entity. By that alone, we can only assume that— well...” Adam struggled to find his words. His leg bounced from under the table as his mind jumbled as to what happened to those past survivors. 

Fortunately, Adam didn’t have to finish his sentence as Feng mumbled under her breath what they were all thinking.

“They were devoured.”

Yun-Jin wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and throw a tantrum. She thought that there was no possible way to escape, but apparently there was, but it wasn’t as good as their own predicament. 

“…what happens if you’re devoured?” She asked, her voice hushed as she glanced at the group with red teary eyes.

Élodie sighed, “We don’t know…we could be met with peace— no longer feeling pain or joy since we would seize to exist, or we could be sentient and still feel every single pain of every life force the entity has consumed. But from my own studies on dark magic, I would place my money on the latter.”

“Oh god, what if we get devoured by going through this plan?!” Yun-Jin shouted, her eyes glanced at the group in alarm.

“Keep your voice down!” Min hissed, “We don’t want you-know-who to hear.”

“How do we know they’re not listening right now?” Yun-Jin scoffed.

“I’ve already checked with them and they’re preparing for the next trial with the killers.” Dwight answered, “So we have nothing to worry about.”

Yun-Jin frowned, “How do you know? I thought they were like— I don’t know, otherworldly? How are you sure they aren’t eavesdropping right now?”

“They may be a cosmic being, but they are far weaker than the entity, so they do have their limits.” Élodie reassured, “We’ve since learned that their omnipotent abilities aren’t as vast as we had once thought. My guess is that they can hear and see all, but they don’t truly hear and see everything. Like when looking at a picture for a moment, do you truly see all of the details in the work? Every paint stroke and sponge mark? Or when you are in a crowd in a city, you can hear bits of every sound, but not every conversation to its fullest extent. Since being in this realm, that is at least the conclusion me and a few others have come up with for their abilities.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Yun-Jin frowned, “Well, okay then, what if we get devoured, huh?” Yun-Jin snapped in frustration. “I thought you guys said that there was nothing to lose.”

“There is nothing to lose,” Min commented, sitting up straight and crossing her arms over her chest. “We get devoured if we go through with another escape plan or not. Might as well take the risk.”

“And we don’t know if those past survivors were devoured or not. For all we know, they may have escaped.” Zarina pointed out, easing the tension of the others.

Yun-Jin slowly nodded. Although she was still overwhelmed with all this new information, she at least could feel her worries ease as she was reminded that her survival was probable, she just needed the others to help.

“Fine then. What now?”

All eyes turned to Dwight. 

Said leader felt his face flush in embarrassment, but he covered it up by coughing into his fist. “Right. Well, now that we got most of the basics covered we should see if there is even a slim chance of the servant caving into an emotional connection.” His eyes then ventured to Élodie. “Is there a chance for them to rebel against the entity? Or at the very least, help us out?”

Élodie pursed her lips in thought, “Honestly? Yes, but a very slim chance. Back when I was collecting artifacts for my employer, he let me read up on ancient manuscripts, some of which described ancient gods called The Elder Ones. They were different forms of gods, some of which created the very concept of life and death. World eaters and realm creators. These gods would often create various sub species to play different roles.”

”One example of this being this really grotesque monster race that were built to be mountains of sorts, kinda like a living castle but with multiple mouths on its body. It was tanky, and at the very center of its core was where some of The Elder Ones would reserve their life force. They were usually seen as lower beings, and, well, they eventually gained consciousness and rebelled against The Elder Ones because of their lack of respect. Now it’s said that they peacefully reside as illusions of mountains and feed upon anything that stumbles across their backs.”

Élodie nodded to herself. Having read many manuscripts of different religions and tales, she often thought that maybe some of them were simply made up. However, being placed in the realm of the entity, having spoken to other survivors that come from vastly different times and worlds, she could undoubtedly say that it’s a possibility that some of those manuscripts told real lore of otherworldly places.

She just wasn’t sure how they could have possibly traveled from one realm to another.

“That’s just one example of the servant defying its role. There are many of these stories of creatures that would turn on their creators because they’ve either found a new purpose or were tired of the mistreatment.” Élodie bit her lower lip, “However, these creatures were always shown to be more…expressive than what we’re currently dealing with, so that’s why I think this theory can work to a certain degree.”

She then gazed up at the group, her eyes meeting Felix’s warm grey eyes.

“So you’re saying there is a chance?” He asked, eyeing his friend with a growing smile.

Élodie looked upon the group, all of them staring at her to give the final judgment. 

“Well, if there’s nothing to lose, I say let’s see if we can get a little expression on them.” She then grinned, the thought of this theory working actually sounded more and more real the further she thought on it. “If we can sway them enough, see if they have the capability to feel or even think to themselves, I think we have a pretty good shot.”

Looking at one another, the group found themselves feeling a wave of an emotion they haven’t truly felt in such a long time. It was a surreal feeling, and one that they all knew to be dangerous, yet they latched onto the feeling with an iron hold, refusing to let the emotion slip away into the entity’s grasp. 

They were going to get close to you. They had to.

The next trial was approaching, and so far, you hadn’t seen or heard from the killer who was supposed to be next to hunt.

Standing by the empty campfire, your dull [eye color] eyes watched as the flames of the fire pit flicker and dance. The crackling noise of the campfire burned as time went on, but it never once lost its flame. It continued to burn. Emitting a heat that you knew was nice for the mortals, but for yourself?

You took a step forward, your hand barely reached out to touch the flames.

It burned at your skin, but you couldn’t feel that. Instead, you watched as the fire engulfed your hand, not burning it and not causing it pain. Your fingers merely touched the flames, as though it was touching open air.

You couldn’t feel it. 

Suddenly, you put your hand down. Barely audible, you could hear breathing. Soft and scarcely present, but you could still make it out. It approached from the darkness of the forest. Despite knowing the intentions of the killer, you didn’t bother to move. Instead, you kept your eyes focused on the flames, awaiting the killer’s next move.

As quick as a shuddered breath, you could feel a presence loom behind you. One arm wrapped around your torso, and another holding out a knife in hand over your face.

The presence didn’t speak, but you didn’t need to see who they were to know who was behind you.

Your eyes glanced at the shining silver blade. A mirror image of yourself was present, along with the masked killer with a ghoulish appearance.

It was Ghostface.

[boltlightning]

# 30 for norribeth or just James and Elizabeth. Pretty please?

30. one more chapter request me a drabble!

The captain’s quarters in the Empress are hastily patched. The cannons from the Dutchman had struck above the waterline, and with the ship lightened of its burdens by Davy Jones’ crew, the Empress sails quick and easy towards Shipwreck Cove.

James is bundled in swaths of silk and wool upon the lone bed. His sleep is uneasy, incomplete, a thin veneer over the plunging depths of his pain. This is the fevered rest of a man barely tethered to life. The rise and fall of his chest is shallow, but even, and Elizabeth watches it with anxious intensity. 

She had questioned the necessity of so much bedding—surely, if his skin is running as hot as Hell itself, he would wish to be cool?—but she has learned to trust her new crew; they had kept James alive against all odds, after he was impaled, tossed unceremoniously overboard, half-drowned, and hauled gracelessly from the churning sea. He had been stabbed with a piece of wood torn off the Flying Dutchman, and the cold of the water had nearly killed him before the infection could, but by the tenacity of the crew, he lives. Elizabeth had seen men succumb to shock and cold in much more favorable conditions and could no longer doubt their medicinal methods. 

The throes of James’ fever had not released him yet. In his few moments of wakefulness, he has not been completely lucid, and does not seem to register Elizabeth’s hand brushing his burning forehead at all, much less as comfort. His tenuous fate does little to settle her nerves with the congregation of pirate kings fast approaching. 

She thumbs the token Sao Feng had given her, kept secure around her neck. It would not do to sit idle and will James to wellness.

Elizabeth peruses the chests left after Sao Feng’s death. She uncovers weapons, elaborate clothing, gold, jewelry, unfamiliar herbs and jars of preserves. Of most interest to her is an impossibly heavy chest filled with books. There are several titles in English and French she recognizes. Much of it is philosophy, Locke and Voltaire and their like, but some literature is present as well. Chaucer, Defoe, Milton, Shakespeare…

Elizabeth selects the latter. She prefers the tragedies and had never read his sonnets. She does not think she can handle another tragedy now.

Careful not to disturb James, she sits on the edge of the bed with the book in her lap. The quiet in the cabin is not true, only the sort that a ship can offer: the creaking of the planks, the susurrus of the water, the lyrical murmur of the crew, and immediate to her attention, the rasp of her closest friend’s breath. Elizabeth draws a breath of her own and begins to read aloud, if only to give her ears something else to hear.

His condition does not improve over the journey. Elizabeth continues to read, telling herself that if he dies here, she has at least given him a comfortable bed in which to do so, with poetry as his accompaniment. The thought makes her stop abruptly mid-stanza. She closes the book and breathes deeply, enough to steady her to stand and set it in the latched cupboard beside the bed.

From the other side of the bed, James stirs. He mumbles something that could plausibly be her name slurred into two syllables, the end lifted in a question. She drops the book in haste and scrambles back to his side.

“Oh, thank God you’re alive,” she exclaims, forgetting herself.

“Barely,” he croaks.

Elizabeth reaches over to brush damp hair from his face. He is cooler than he has been, and his eyes are clear, if bright with pain.

“What can I get you? There’s—well, it’s not brandy, but it’s this clear concoction that's just as strong, and—I can put tea on, just—”

“Water, maybe,” James suggests hoarsely. “No, ah, don’t get up yet.” He shifts to sit up, then hisses at the pain. 

Elizabeth gently pushes him down by the shoulder. “Stay there. What do you need?”

“One more?” He flicks his eyes towards the sonnets, which slide page-down across the floor with the tilt of the ship. “Please. It…it keeps the dreams away.”

He lifts a hand to set it to her arm. He looks nothing like himself, the fever and pain having wasted him away; even his expression is uncertain, vulnerable as she had never seen before. Yet Elizabeth looks into his face, and recognizes him, and feels relief as certain and true as the moon’s tides.

“One more,” she agrees. When she looks away to pick up the book, it is with reluctance.

[superconductivebean]

#1015: aesop sharp headcanons - 2

Aesop Sharp: ask 1 || >>>1 Mirabel Garlick: >>>1 Dinah Hecat: >>>1 Victor Rookwood: >>>1

Once again raising my head from the Brainrot fog to share some character headcanons with the world. Brainrot is a fic I’m working on.

Tags: @endeavour12345 @thriftstorebabayaga @mrs-sharp @caramel-hufflepuff @catohphm and @hogwartslegacyreactions2 for the inspiration!

Aesop has a bit of pettiness to him;

Brainrot: the snark runs in the Sharps' family blood. You could say, he is inherently resentful or even spiteful, in fact, you will be right. If he is given the chance to mutter his frustrations out while no one sees or hears it, he will be the most annoying person at the dinner table;

Brainrot: exactly why he isn't invited to somewhere very often; his well-pointed snark is a weapon against formalities he may not like, preferring to stay nose-deep in research. He blames Eleazar on nourishing an inner child in him;

Brainrot: he has always been like this, however. At school, he could afford a snark because he was a child and an adolescence. At the Office, formalities and upholding an attitude and an image wasn't a 100%-of-the-time necessity, he could afford to be a fool around colleagues, especially around his partner. But when he came to Hogwarts as a teacher, he realised his usual character -- a goof with a strict eye -- isn't suitable for working with children with a weird inclination to cook themselves in cauldrons, or sticking their wands and equipments to the ceiling, or exploding half the class;

In order to satisfy it, he 1) reads an awful amounts of potioneer magazines and other periodical literature -> 2) in despair and anger composes well-worded, eloquent, most insightful commentary on everything and everyone he has a disagreement -> 3) signs as Expert Anon but those familiar with how he usually writes Suspect These Oddly Specific Opinions is him;

He never admits to has been committing petty crimes against the potioneer community sanity;

If anything, it helps him to outsource the research force, he is the Hogwarts teacher, a miserably busy man;

As you can see, he puts SLY in Slytherin;

Brainrot: in his first of Hogwarts tenure, he came to know Hector Weasley, Garreth's older brother. Hector was on the forefronts of his year, 7th, and was the most critical person of Aesop in the entire castle. He thought new teacher will impede his chances on getting up to the standards of the French institutions. The boy was uncharacteristically ambitions for a Gryffindor, in Aesop's opinion, but he said, "Okay";

Brainrot: he gave him Hell (and fell to there himself, too, being an inexperienced teacher, only beginning on his new career);

Brainrot: to have their mutual commiseration a worthy testament, Hector wrote a several feet long scroll; he wasn't able to finish it still at school, he had to send it around Christmas after graduation;

Brainrot: when the new crop of the 6th years come to their first Potions lesson of the year, they see the classroom layout changed. All stands are aligned in a straight line and cleared of any book, instrument and cauldron. Aesop comes in with the scroll and asks to pay attention at the stands;

Brainrot: for a few long seconds the scroll runs on the line like a table runner cloth, margins adorned with a simple design;

Brainrot: Aesop then announced, upon signing up for the next two years, they will be befallen Hell. He thinks, better students learn how to research and structure while still at school than at work or in training for St Mungo's internship or for the Office's training programme.

[saturniandevil]

May 2024 Important Dates

AKA my notes from The Astrology Podcast's May Forecast.

April recap: on the 8th we had the solar eclipse in Aries that covered much of the United States, during a Mercury retrograde and right before a Mars-Saturn conjunction--all also in Aries! In international news this connects to Iran's retaliation for Israel's strike on its Syrian embassy. A tragic eclipse story is of astrologer Danielle Ayoka, whose death after a mental breakdown was sensationalized by the LA times as part of modern-day Satanic Panic. Our hosts urge the wider astrological community to learn more about how to support others who may be going through a mental health crisis and extend sympathy to the affected families. The inflammatory reporting also connects to a larger story of backlash against astrology as Saturn approaches a conjunction with Neptune in Pisces and the latter leaves the sign.

On April 10th we had an exact Mars-Saturn conjunction in Pisces, which a previous forecast predicted would correspond with issues of contaminated water, maritime warfare, and flooding. On the day of the conjunction, the EPA issued the first national limit for forever chemicals in the water. Saturn signifies both the restrictions and the longevity of the chemicals. There was also torrential flooding in Dubai, Russia, and Kazakhstan.

Jupiter conjoined Uranus in Taurus on April 20th; these planets only align every 14 years. Jupiter-Uranus indicates uprisings and revolutions: the last one corresponded with the Arab Spring, and there was also one in 1968-70 during Vietnam War protests, as well as the French and American revolutions. The student protests at Columbia (and later other universities) calling for divestment and ceasefire in Gaza are a direct connection here (the current encampment was directly inspired by student protestors doing the same thing in 1968 to protest the Vietnam War). These protests began on April 17th and saw a boom in media coverage when the conjunction went exact. The 1969 conjunction was in Libra; in Venus-ruled signs this alignment signals uprisings of "we don't want to be at war!" If these protests did start right at dawn on the 17th, this would have the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction (already exact by degree, but not minute) rising, fitting for an action that has sparked events across the nation.

Another Jupiter-Uranus story includes Congress passing a bill wrapping together military funding for Ukraine, Israel, and Taiwan with a probable TikTok ban. A historical connection here is the passing of the Lend-Lease bill in 1941, a precursor to the US entering WW2. With the US Uranus return coming up (which corresponds to the Civil War and WW2), Chris is nervous. Other conjunction stories include the restoration of net neutrality on April 25th (Taurus ruling basic necessities and resources), the Department of Transportation mandating airlines to give refunds (the Wright Brothers flew under a Jupiter-Uranus conjunction), the FTC put a ban on employer non-compete agreements, and a VW factory in Tennessee successfully unionized as part of UAW--one of the first unionized auto factories in the South! These regulation stories also fit with Saturn bringing rules and regulations.

We're entering the month of May right as Mars enters his domicile Aries, freeing us of the Saturn conjunction, Mercury stationing direct, and Venus in her home sign of Taurus.

May 2nd - Pluto stations Retrograde This occurs at 2 degrees of Aquarius and will see Pluto backtrack into Capricorn for the final time this summer. Retrograde stations intensify the significations of a particular planet in that sign, and this particular one occurs with a square from Venus in Taurus and copresence with the Moon. Pluto in Aquarius developments include developments in AI & technology, and with Venus signifying the arts we can expect AI image/video developments. On a personal level Venus-Pluto can indicate deep, transformative relationships as well as control, manipulation, and power dynamics. Venus in Taurus also activates the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction, especially in the realm of our relationship to the natural world & differentiating what is real from what is fake. On a more positive note, this is a good time to indulge in creative projects, and with a retrograde especially, returning your idea to its original state. Venus-Pluto also relates to issues of women's rights and bodily autonomy (ex. Roe v. Wade).

May 7th - New Moon in Taurus

At 18 degrees of Taurus, the New Moon forms a sextile to Saturn (17♓), and soon approaches the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction (orb 3) just a few degrees away. Jupiter-Uranus themes will become more pronounced collectively and in our personal lives, likely bringing new chapters in the stories discussed in the recap. Also in Taurus is Venus, who's slowing down after her zip through Aries and emphasizes relationships as she brings us back down to earth. Meanwhile, Mars in Aries doesn't make many aspects to other planets this month (even copresent Mercury is moving away from him), making him a bit of a renegade, but also not interfering with other planets. On the 25th Mars will reach the degree of the eclipse (18♈), so those affected by the eclipse, especially night charts, will definitely see extra focus in this part of their lives, while day charts can expect some challenges.

May 12th/13th - Sun conjoins Uranus (not pictured) This Taurus season sees the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction continually activated. Rather than the usual relaxation, we'll hear the bells of rebellion tolling over and over. (Another date to watch is May 18th, when the Sun hits Jupiter.)

May 13th - Mercury enters Taurus He exits his retrograde shadow before this ingress and at the same time Venus sextiles Saturn, clarifying conversations. We'll feel like we're finally done with some hassles. Mercury's ingress into Taurus also focuses the solid majority of our energy in this area, rather than splitting it with Aries. However, he squares Pluto immediately upon entering, so before smooth sailing we'll have to deal with intense focus, digging up the past, and uncovering secrets. This might deepen conversations as Mercury treats the same issues Venus brought up with her square to Pluto earlier this month, but now with more distance and calculation than the tender emotions, or it can amplify those issues with a microphone.

May 14th - Electional chart for the month (not pictured)

May is actually one of the best months for electional astrology all year, free of Mars retrograde and most outer planet tensions that will overshadow the later part of the year. This selection is for about 12:30PM local time. This should give Leo rising, and the Ascendant ruler the Sun is in Taurus within 3 degrees of a conjunction to Jupiter in the 10th house. Venus is also in Taurus, squaring a Leo Moon in the first house. This is a great chart for 10th house matters like career, reputation, and public image, with the Ascendant ruler fully bonified by Jupiter and supported by both benefics. With the first house connection Diana suggests this is also a good time to update your work wardrobe or possibly website in ways that may seem unexpected. It's a good time to do something unique or innovative with Uranus placed so prominently. It's not as good for ninth house matters like foreign travel, as Mars is there in a day chart.

May 18th - Venus conjunct Uranus, Sun conjunct Jupiter Venus conjoins Uranus (23♉) at the same time that the Sun conjoins Jupiter (28♉), bringing us optimism and excitement. It's extremely buoyant and can be disruptive simply by virtue of so much happening at once. It's a Saturday, so a great time to have fun, but be prepared to sleep in late the next day. We can find new relationships that begin quickly but burn out fast too, and run into unexpected good luck.

May 19th/20th - Mars conjoins North Node (not pictured) The next day the Moon enters Libra and opposes this configuration, activating it. Mars takes the place of the Sun in an eclipse, reactivating the stories that these Aries-Libra eclipses have been pinging in our lives. Mars's anger may be in response to people crossing our social boundaries represented by the Moon in Libra. With the Moon bringing in the South Node and Mars's severing associations, we may become aware of things we need to relinquish or cut off. Picking fights can lead to consequences you really don't want.

May 20th - Sun enters Gemini This ingress foreshadows the stellium of planets in Taurus shifting to Gemini.

May 23rd - Full Moon in Sagittarius, Venus conjunct Jupiter, Jupiter sextile Neptune, Venus enters Gemini

This Full Moon is opposite the Venus-Jupiter conjunction (29♉), both of whom sextile Neptune (29♓), and when the Moon exactly opposes the Sun it sextiles Pluto. This is a more positive and optimistic lunation than what we've been seeing so far: the best of the night sect with the best of the day sect. Agreements made during this time will have staying power, and it's a good sign for peace in world events. Neptune connotes idealism in these accords--sometimes you need ungrounded hopes and dreams to go on. Venus-Jupiter conjunctions can also bring too much of a good thing, so be careful not to overindulge. This is also a good time to enjoy material and sensual comforts. It's the perfect day for a picnic!

Venus joins the Sun in Gemini soon after.

May 25th - Jupiter enters Gemini Jupiter spends about a year in a sign, and we'll be shifting from slow, grounded Taurus to mutable, airy Gemini. He'll be trining Pluto in Aquarius while here, accelerating technological advancements like AI and innovations in transportation. Diana uses the image of lots of busy bumblebees trying to collect lots of different information very rapidly. It might be overwhelming, and we could see heightened allergens. This also sets up the next month, where we'll have lots of activity in Gemini...all of which will square Saturn in Pisces! It'll be a lively air and water show with changes in short-term travel. In our personal lives, the combination of Venus & Jupiter will alleviate some of the issues we've been feeling in mutable signs, where places we've felt weighed down and restricted will receive some levity and buoyancy. Whichever house Gemini occupies in your chart will see some smooth sailing for awhile. Use this positive support in Taurus and Gemini to make hay while the sun shines!

May 31st - Mercury conjunct Uranus Mercury is the last planet to ping Jupiter-Uranus conjunction; in general there is a lot of planetary activity in Taurus this month, really activating whichever house that falls in for individuals. Mercury brings a megaphone to the final blast of energy from Taurus. Surprising news, unexpected communications, and conversations with unlikely sources are in order. Uranus-Mercury can open up possibilities that you never could have predicted, and are good for thinking on your feet. Both planets are associated with the nervous system--it's a good day to be cautious with your caffeine consumption.

Whether you need to be active or just rest, take advantage of the stability and help this month!

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 25/?

Prev | Next

Jason finds a new hobby; Jazz starts thinking about her future. Danny isn't completely miserable at school.

Danny didn’t want to admit it, but he was having fun at school.

Three weeks after starting school, Danny had settled in.

He had made a small group of friends. They could never replace Sam and Tucker, but they were fun. His dad had been right. (Not that he would ever tell him that.) Even if the courses were a bit boring sometimes, being around people his age was nice.

Still, he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

It helped that the school he was enrolled in taught differently to the American education system. Plus, he was learning French.

The school had a more hands-on approach to learning. He built machines and diagrams. Reading out loud could have been more exciting, even if they read at a more advanced level. During those times, he usually zoned out.

Danny found out he loved to draw. The most he had drawn back at his home dimension had been basic things or schematics of his inventions once he was older. Here, the school took time to get the kids engaged. They put different things in front of the kids and even let the children model for their classmates if they didn’t like drawing.

Right now, the teacher was teaching them how to make bracelets. It was nice to do things with his hands.

So, yeah, maybe his dad and Jazz had had a point, and school was good for Danny. That doesn’t mean he would tell them.

____

Jason had been bored during the day for the last three weeks.

Ever since Danny had started school, Jason had more time in his hands than before. In Gotham, he slept during the day after a long night of patrol, ruling his criminal empire and giving out necessities to the children and homeless in his territory.

Now, he would wake up, take Danny to school, and teach Jazz defensive moves and how to use knives and guns. That only lasted three hours. By ten o’clock, he was done and bored. Jazz refused to let him take care of Ellie the whole day.

“Go out, Jason. Find something to do, and stop trying to take my baby from me.”

So, here he was, walking around the little village.

That’s where he saw her, a 1967 red Mustang. The car had seen better days, but Jason could tell if he put in the time and effort, he could restore her. He jogged up to the little auto shop.

An older man was sitting on a rocking chair and chewing tobacco. His teeth were yellow, and he had wispy white hair. The wrinkles left deep trenches on his face. He smelled of car oil and tobacco.

“How much for the Mustang?”

The older man looked at Jason and spat the tobacco into a bucket. His greasy shirt read Hank.

“You sure you want that old junk, son? It hasn’t been used since 1986 and has been rotting on this parking lot since.”

“Yeah, I want it. How much?”

“Y’know, having someone fix her will cost a lot, right?”

“I know how to fix cars. I can have it hauled to my place and start fixing her there.”

Jason could go to old junkyards to find parts. He’d have to buy equipment, too; he didn’t have any at home. It’s not as if he didn’t have the money for such a project. He was actually getting excited at the thought of fixing the old car.

“If you’re sure, I’ll leave it at $600.”

“Deal,” Jason said.

Jason paid for the car with his card and waited for Hank to give him the keys. He looked in the car and was surprised to see it still had its original seats. Leather seats, too. As expected, it didn’t turn on. Jason saw that the engine was rusted.

Hmm, he would have to take it out and see if there were any salvageable parts. Now, to figure out how to get it home.

Jason turned toward the older man and noticed he had a nice array of tools and two lifters. An idea started forming.

“Are you willing to rent me a space so I can fix the car here? I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get the car moving, but I’m more than willing to pay.”

The man was chewing on more tobacco. Jason started fidgeting the longer Hank stayed silent.

“I wouldn’t use it when you need the lifters, and I’d still pay for a daily fee. I’d keep the car in the same parking space you’ve had it in.”

Hank spit out the tobacco and took out some more, “Sure, why not? Let’s talk price, kid.”

Jason smiled. He had found something to do.

Danny could tell his dad was happy when he picked him up from school.

“How was class today, chum?”

“It was nice, I guess. I painted some fruit and learned how the weather is predicted for the week. We even built our modal of a weather balloon.”

“That’s nice,” Jason said. “Anything else?”

“We started a new book. Charlotte’s Web. It’s not the worst.”

“Oh, I loved that book when I was younger.”

“Hmm,” Danny hummed, “What did you do, daddy?”

“I bought an old car that I decided to fix up. The man I bought it from has an auto shop and is letting me fix it up there. Maybe, if you’re interested, we can go on the weekends, and you can help me.”

Danny thought about it. He remembered all the times he helped Jack with inventions. He missed building things. This would be different, though. He wouldn’t be building weapons that could kill a race of beings. He would just be helping his dad rebuild a car. It was a normal father-son activity.

“I would like that,” Danny said, “I would like that a lot.”

____

After Jason left, Jazz started thinking.

In a few years, Ellie would start school, too. She wouldn’t have much to do with Ellie gone.

Jazz used to have dreams. She wanted to go to an Ivy School and study psychology. Those dreams had been dashed when the Fentons attacked her younger brother. Suddenly, she was responsible for a de-aged Danny and Ellie. She was glad for Jason’s help, but her whole world had become the children.

Jazz put Ellie down for a nap. She took that opportunity to look into online classes. After all, just like Jazz had been pushing Jason to do things for himself, she had to think about her mental health and find ways to stimulate her mind.

She’d bring it up with Jason to see what he thought.

She spent the rest of the day looking into online school programs. After all, she deserved to do things for herself every once in a while.

The elder Nightingales are finding things to do for themselves, yay! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter.

So I no longer have Covid 😃 but that also means I'm going back to work and won't be able to update as much as I had the past few days. Sorry about that. I will try to update one of my fics at least twice a week. No promises, though.

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife

[tododeku-or-bust]

i’d encourage you to be more explicit in how you define “white people” bc i’ve seen some whites who are black af. Whiteness in the us is an ethnicity and culture that supercedes race. Whiteness=/=white privilege necessarily, because nonwhites will appropriate whiteness for their benefit and the exertion of white power. This is what complicated relations with “mixed” ethnicities (lets not forget how african americans are very ethnically mixed) whose proximity to whiteness can vary: latinos, jews, MENA peoples, & creole peoples from the islands the world over. Let’s also consider how so many people of indigenous american descent who grew up in indigenous culture on indigenous land, may very well experience white privilege, yet equally so isn’t white. It is the behaviors of WASP culture/ethnicity that are so toxic to collective wellbeing

Okay, here we go:

i’d encourage you to be more explicit in how you define “white people” bc i’ve seen some whites who are black af.

I'd encourage you to never say this shit again lmao. Your point was damn near invalid the moment I read this bar. I decided to keep reading anyway, but this... No.

Whiteness in the us is an ethnicity and culture that supercedes race.

The idea of "white" as a race literally exists because ethnic groups of European descent (that normally hated each other, btw) had to come together and figure out what they had in common to make them better than the darkies that they wanted to exploit for land and labor. I understand that it is a culture in America (which is what I was talking about...), but it is a culture that came together, again, out of a necessity to bond and find a way to keep this new whiteness inaccessible to everyone else. They sacrificed many parts of their own individual cultures specifically to create this concept of a race. They're practically intertwined.

Whiteness=/=white privilege necessarily, because nonwhites will appropriate whiteness for their benefit and the exertion of white power.

Lord Jesus. "Appropriate" whiteness. Sigh. You're not wrong in that nonwhite people will exert what they've learned from whiteness, but that is not because they have the power. It's because they WANT the power. They seek access to the full power. They'll never have it because by design they're not meant to have it.

This is what complicated relations with “mixed” ethnicities (lets not forget how african americans are very ethnically mixed) whose proximity to whiteness can vary: latinos, jews, MENA peoples, & creole peoples from the islands the world over.

If you have to emphasize "mixed" that's evidence enough that you're not considered white. Please, truly, tell me how the white blood I got from my French and British descended slave owners offers me more proximity to whiteness as an African American in 2024. Because according to the census and how I'm treated by society, I am "Black af".

I'm not sure how you feel about it, but I'm looking at the world and absolutely none of those groups (except maybe Israelis rn, and even then, they're just a tool for white western goals) are currently benefitting as a whole from that proximity to whiteness. Because that was the whole point; to create a standard (Whiteness is the Bar) that everyone else will then fight each other to try to reach. And when we fight, none of us reach "that bar". None of us were EVER meant to reach it. It's just white supremacy working.

Also, this is why I said I was talking to White Americans specifically. Because I know it gets complex worldwide, and I didn't feel like going through this. I was specifically talking about whiteness in America.

Let’s also consider how so many people of indigenous american descent who grew up in indigenous culture on indigenous land, may very well experience white privilege, yet equally so isn’t white.

If they're growing up on reservations, they certainly aren't 😅 not from how I've read about those experiences! In general they can't speak their languages, can't wear their braids in school, can't get the cops to investigate shit, hell the entire land that is theirs was LITERALLY stolen and sat on by white settlers to this day 🤣 True White Privilege- Power- is when the media says you have the right to fight for your land and rights; the rest of us have to "get over it".

Like... I'm trying to hear what you're saying, and if you'd said "they have benefitted from antiblackness", I would hear you. Because that's true for the statement before this as well. Everyone benefits from antiblackness! But that's not inherently them benefitting from white privilege. It's why I mock people that try to play for white supremacy. They'll never be chosen! They're a tool!

It is the behaviors of WASP culture/ethnicity that are so toxic to collective wellbeing

Okay? Was all this just to say "not all white people"? You want me to say WASP culture from now on? What was your purpose here? I'm honestly confused. Perhaps I need to read what you've read to understand your perspective more.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

It starts, as many things involving Phichit do, with an Instagram post.

phichit+chu [Video description: Katsuki Yuuri, sitting on the grass in a tank top and shorts, places a watermelon between his thighs and cracks it open. He smiles up at the person holding the camera before grimacing at his lap and his watermelon-soaked shorts and thighs, muttering “Didn’t think this through…”] phichit+chu We didn’t have a knife. #katsudamn #demthighstho #katsukiyuuri #blessed     axel-otl Uh mcpoult I’LL BE IN MY BUNK doaflip #katsudamn indeed okukawami [This is what you’re using my dance training to do?] ;) redpandadance more like yuuri crush-suki amirite 

This sparks the #KatsuMelon challenge among other figure skaters. Because of the physical necessities of their sport – namely, extremely muscular bottom halfs that can support launching and landing triples and quads – many succeed, though not with the ease and oblivious cuteness of Yuuri. Mila Babicheva earns the #scaredandhorny award for crushing three melons in under ten seconds.

Christophe Giacometti, never one to settle for keeping it PG, posts a video of him in a thong crushing a variety of fruits and vegetables with his ass. The video is taken down almost immediately and leads to Chris being temporarily banned from the platform for repeatedly posting inappropriate content.

It’s a weird couple of weeks for those not used to the figure skating community.

—

Not many people know about Yuuri’s competitive side, but Chris does. Their time together in Juniors, duking it out for the podium, made it very apparent.

So, when they’re both assigned to Skate America, he decides to make use of this knowledge. He corners Yuuri at the rink during practice on the day before the men’s short program.

“Chéri, you’ve been keeping secrets from me,” he pouts, skating up beside the Japanese skater.

Yuuri looks like a bunny rabbit that’s been caught under a bush, all wide-eyed and twitchy. “What?”

“I saw the video of your little trick with the watermelon,” Chris clarifies, before adding huskily, “J’ai bien hâte de le voir en personne.”

���Chris, you know I don’t speak French.”

“Well, hurry up and learn so I can fully express myself.”

“I don’t think I could take you expressing yourself any more fully,” Yuuri mutters, blushing as he slaps a wandering hand away.

He grins and winks lasciviously. “Not many can. But I digress! I want a demonstration, Yuuri~”

“There’s a video of it,” Yuuri says, confused. “You’ve already seen it. Just go watch that.”

“Are you saying you couldn’t do it again?” Chris says, pretending to look disbelieving.

Yuuri’s eyes narrow and his jaw tightens. “Bring me a damn watermelon.”

Chris smirks. Gotcha.

—

Someone procures a watermelon despite it being the wrong season and the request being issued ten minutes ago. Phichit would be surprised, except he’s seen all the comments on that post. Thirst is a powerful motivator.

“Wait!” Leo shouts. “Maybe you should take off your pants? You, uh. Last time, you got your shorts dirty.”

Yuuri stares at him blankly for a second before giving him a small smile. “You’re right, thanks.”

And then he strips off his joggers. Phichit hears a few muttered curses, and someone swoons. 

And that’s how Katsuki Yuuri ends up sitting on the arena changing room floor in just his warm-up shirt and tight boxer briefs, surrounded by several of the world’s top figure skaters, and absolutely obliterating a sizeable watermelon with his wet-dream-worthy thighs. 

There are a few moments of silence during which Yuuri seems to realize people are staring at him and starts to spiral before Seung-gil mutters, “I wish that was my head.” 

And Phichit is shocked that it’s the notoriously misanthropic Korean who spoke, but also. Same, dude. Same.

That breaks the rest of the observers out of their stupor, and then it’s a rush of sound – yelling, catcalls, laughter – and Phichit makes sure to pull Yuuri out of the epicentre of excitement as soon as he can, taking up his role of deflecting attention away from his smol anxious son. 

When Chris approaches with a cat-that-got-the-cream grin, Yuuri sighs with fond exasperation.

“There. Happy?” he says to Chris.

“Oh, exceedingly. Seeing is believing. You never disappoint, mon petit chou.” Chris manages to get a few celebratory gropes in before Yuuri bats him away.

Phichit convinces (see: threatens with blackmail) everyone present into not posting pictures or videos of Yuuri. But a slew of Instagram posts featuring figure skaters eating chunks of watermelon flood the platform with no caption other than #SkateAmerica2015, to the confusion of everyone who wasn’t there.

—

Yuri Plisetsky is suffering.

He has to share a rink with Viktor “Living Legend” Nikiforov, and deal with all the comparisons and expectations and idiocy that brings, so he’s used to some amount of suffering.

He’s not used to the Japanese Yuuri being the source of his suffering.

Not that he would ever say it even under torture, but Japanese Yuuri’s step sequences are pretty good (the most beautiful he’s ever seen) and he moves well (like he’s music and emotion given human form). He guesses he respects the other man as a skater. His jumps are shit, though (could use some work).

After the Watermelon Incident at Skate America is when the suffering begins. He can’t look at watermelons the same way. He can’t look at Japanese Yuuri the same way. Now, every time he sees him in person or in photos, he thinks about licking watermelon juice off of Yuuri's bare thighs. His phone can’t take being thrown at the wall anymore before it just shatters.

(Like that watermelon.)

Puberty is the fucking worst.

—

Chris, as a top-tier bro and shit-stirrer, sends the video to Viktor.

Viktor ♥

!!! Chris What am I looking at? Proof that God loves the gays You and I weren’t proof enough? Bien sûr, mon cher But also Tell me those thighs don’t make you want to fall down and worship I am but a man An extremely gay man So who is he? Viktor You don’t recognize Katsuki Yuuri? Should I…? For shame Japan’s ace? ? Figure skating?? You know, that thing you do all day, every day? nvm, I looked him up If I didn’t love you so much, I’d strangle you, chéri Aww, you love me! ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Chris gets back to practice, dropping his phone and his attempt to wing-man for the moment. Those two had better appreciate this…

—

The next day, Viktor approaches Yuri as they’re practicing on the ice.

“So, your newfound aversion to watermelon…”

Yuri glares at him. Viktor stares back.

“It happened after Skate America, da?”

Yuri’s glare develops an edge of mortified horror. Viktor waggles his eyebrows.

“AAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHHH,” the teenager howls, skating away from Viktor as fast and as angrily as he can.

Ah, youth. At least Yuri has better taste than Viktor’d had at his age. Thankfully, he’d outgrown his tragic habit of crushing on straight boys.

And hey, maybe they could bond over crushing on someone who could crush them with his thighs.

(He swears he’s not getting petty vengeance for all the balding and ‘old man’ comments.) 

(...He might be lying.)

He’s no more excited for this year’s Grand Prix Final. But maybe – maybe – the off-ice part could surprise him yet. Maybe this Katsuki Yuuri could liven things up.