#anyways I just really geek out on this sort of stuff

[scarlet--wiccan]

On related note, a few years ago, the Entomological Society of America officially discontinued the use of "gypsy moth" and "gyspy ant" as common names for Lymantria dispar and Aphaenogaster araneoides. L. Dispar is now known as the "spongy moth," so named for the appearance of their eggs, but I don't think a new common name has caught on for the ant species yet.

These changes we brought about, in large part, by the advocacy of Romani people in academia. You might not think that bug names are a very serious issue, but I believe that language matters. These species became known as "gypsies" because their attributes were likened to certain stereotypes and negative perceptions of actual Roma, so the continued use of those names reaffirmed those negative associations in the public consciousness. Slurs and pejoratives can never be truly decontexualized.

In my mind, one of the biggest obstacles that Romani people face when we are trying to advocate for ourselves is a lack of recognition as a marginalized group that deserves the necessary consideration. Even for seemingly trivial matters, like bugs or comic book characters, the way that people talk about us-- and talk down to us, when we get involved-- is telling. So, I always think that changes like this are a win, because it means that people are willing to learn and grant us the dignity we deserve. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to effect change in your own field, even arts and science.

[mc-tummy-blur]

This is what being down bad does to a man I do another Hans Gruber drawing but meticulously paint the scene redraw

Click for better quality

Check my pinned post to see how you can help the people of Palestine

[itneverendshere]

hi again! so I've been meaning to send a request, but before i go about it I wish to say it's completely okay if you're not inspired by this, or if you simply don't want to write it, i would hate myself if I made you overwhelmed or smth. love you anyways 💕 so for the request: reader who's autistic. she's not very talkative nor socially active, never had a boyfriend, has one or two friends, yet somehow rafe notices her and finds her endearing. she's okay being herself with her friends, like she's funny, kind and passionate about her interests (like geek stuff, fantasy books, animals and such). she has zero flirting experience and is always dismissive towards rafe bc she doesn't think someone could like her romantically, and she's always suspicious of people bc they've wronged her in the past (in my experience as an autistic person i tend to believe everything ppl say and am kinda naive, so ppl played me or said unrealistic things and I believed them, which then is a reason for laughter, now I'm always suspicious to ppl's intentions). I'm giving you creative freedom with this, just wanted an autistic reader for once :) if you feel like writing it but need to know more abt autism, you can just post question and I'll answer in your asks, if that's okay. Just a reminder again before I go: feel free to decline this request, I know it might not be something cool to write and that's okay ☺️ love you lots, thank you for your time!

i tried my best, hope you like it 🫶🏼 and if you don't lmk so i can do better!! this was really fun since it's a compeltely new topic of inspiration. kinda left an "open" ending bc i couldn't make my mind up lmao. thank you for the resquest and sorry it took me a while to finally do it 🫂

got dreams but i can't make myself believe them - r.c

paring: rafe x autistic!reader word count: 6.9k

The party was a mistake.

You knew it the moment you walked in, the terrible music and crush of people making your skin crawl. Your friends had been relentless, insisting that you needed to “get out more” and “live a little,” despite your repeated attempts to explain that “getting out” meant something different to you.

You’d caved eventually, and now you were standing awkwardly in the corner of a stranger’s living room, clutching your book like it was a life vest. You needed to stop letting them drag you everywhere.

It was the typical college party scene, at least the one's you'd heard or read about before. Red solo cups everywhere, groups of people huddled on couches or pressed together on the so called dance floor, and a few already-drunk guys yelling loudly in the kitchen.

This was supposed to be fun?

“Just stay for an hour,” they said. “If it’s really that bad, you can leave.”

Right.

Except an hour felt like an eternity when you were trapped in a sensory nightmare. You took a deep breath, scanning the crowded room, the noise was a constant, overwhelming buzz in your ears.

This was definitely a mistake.

You did what you always did best in these situations: found a quiet place to hide.

After walking through the drunk college students, you ended up on hidden nook near the back of the house. It was a small room, probably some sort of den or study, but blessedly, it was empty.

With a sigh of relief, you settled into an oversized armchair, opened your book, and let the world outside your pages melt away.

Time slipped by as you read, the overwhelming noise changing into a distant hum. You were so engrossed that you didn’t notice when someone stumbled into the room until a loud crash jolted you out of your fictional word.

He nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself at the last second with a slurred, “Shit.”

You looked up to find a guy standing unsteadily in the doorway, blinking blearily at you. He was tall, with tousled dark blonde hair and a loose grin that spoke of far too many drinks. His eyes were a striking blue even in the low light, and it took you a second to place him.

Rafe Cameron.

You knew him—well, of him, at least.

He was in your sociology class, always sitting a few rows behind you with his gaggle of equally charming friends. He’d never spoken to you before, though, and you’d never had a reason to pay him much attention.

Rafe's face split into a lazy grin, and he swaggered—no, stumbled—into the room, managing to make even that look effortless.

“Heyyy,” he drawled, leaning heavily against the arm of the chair across from you. “It’s… it’s you.”

You blinked at him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he slurred, squinting like he was trying to see you clearly. “T-The girl from my class. The quiet one.”

Your stomach did a weird flip, part confusion, part disbelief.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded sagely, as if you’d just confirmed some great truth. “You’re the uh, the smart one. With the books.” He gestured vaguely at the one in your hands. “Always sittin’ up front, all… all cute n'shit.”

Your cheeks burned. Was he calling you cute? No. He was drunk—really drunk. He probably didn’t know what he was saying.

“Do you need help?” you asked cautiously. “You look—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off, straightening up as if to prove it, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he swayed on his feet. “Needed to get away from those fucking idiots out there. Too many people.”

You almost laughed.

Rafe Cameron, overwhelmed by people? The guy who was always surrounded by friends, girls draped over him like accessories? But he looked sincere—well, as sincere as a drunk person could look.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you suggested, gesturing to the empty chair. “You, um, might fall over if you don’t.”

“Pfft, I’m not gonna—” He paused mid-sentence, wobbling precariously. Then, as if he’d just made the smartest decision of his life, he plopped down in the chair, sprawling out. “See? Told ya m'fine,” he said, flashing you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help but snort.

“Right.”

He looked at you then, his gaze roaming over your face.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asked abruptly.

You glanced at your book, then back at him. "Reading?”

“No, I mean… here,” he insisted, gesturing vaguely around the room. “At this shitty party.”

You shrugged, feeling awkward.

“My friends dragged me. I didn’t really want to come.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and he looked almost sober.

“Yeah, same.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, a flash of the cocky, arrogant guy you’d seen in class.

“Yeah, well… they’re fucking assholes, but they’re my assholes, y'know?”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Sure.”

“So, what’s that book about?”

You hesitated. “Um… it’s a fantasy novel.”

“Fantasy, huh?” He tilted his head, eyeing the cover. “Like wizards and dragons n'shit?”

“Sort of,” you admitted. “It’s about a girl who finds out she has magic and goes on a quest to—”

“Save the world?” he finished with a mock-solemn expression.

“...Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Bet it is,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on you. “You’re really into that stuff, huh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, his smirk softening into something that looked like genuine interest. “You looked happy, talkin’ about it.”

Your heart did another weird little flip, and you frowned, pushing the feeling down. He was drunk, this didn’t mean anything. He wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

Rafe's eyes drifted shut, his head lolling back against the chair and within seconds, he was snoring.

You sat there, stunned.

What the hell had just happened?

Three days later, you were sitting in your usual spot in the lecture hall, flipping through your notes. Class was about to start, and the room was filling up with the usual pre-lecture chatter.

You were getting settled when someone slid into the seat beside you.

You glanced up, expecting one of your friends.

It was Rafe.

“Hey, friend,” he greeted casually, like you hadn’t left him passed out at a party a few nights ago.

You stared at him, completely disoriented. “Hi?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair, acting like this was completely normal.

“Didn’t think I’d forget about you, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I… yeah, actually.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” he murmured. “I remember everything.”

Did he just give you a nickname?

Your stomach dropped. “Oh?"

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “You, sitting there all cute with your book, talking about magic and shit. Thought I was too drunk to remember, huh?”

“I—” You gawked at him, completely off balance. “Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” he said simply. “Got a problem with that?”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“No?”

“Good.” He flashed you a grin, “So, you gonna tell me more about that book, or what?”

You gaped at him. “You actually want to hear about it?”

“Why not?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “It made you smile.”

For some very stupid reason, that simple statement knocked the breath out of you.

“Okay,” you said, still unsure if this was some kind of elaborate prank.

Rafe leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world. Weird dude.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I’ll stick around.”

The next few classes were…weird, to say the least.

Ever since Rafe decided you were his new "friend," he’d taken to sitting beside you every lecture, plopping down in the empty seat as if he’d been there all along. It was confusing.

Most of the time, he’d breeze in at the last possible minute, sauntering up to your row without so much as a greeting and settling into the chair with that infuriatingly self-assured face. You were already seated, your notebook open and your pen poised to start taking notes when he dropped into the seat beside you with his usual nonchalance.

Rafe stretched his long legs out in front of him, casting you a sidelong look, daring you to acknowledge him first.

“Hi,” you said quietly, eyes flicking back to the front of the room.

“Hey, princess."

You kept your gaze firmly on your notebook. You’d quickly learned that the best way to deal with him was to pretend his presence didn’t affect you—no matter how much his proximity messed with you.

He’d spent the last three classes nudging your foot under the desk, passing snide comments under his breath, or leaning over just close enough to murmur sarcastic observations about whatever the professor was droning on about. And today was no different.

The lecture started, Professor Callahan launching into her usual detailed overview of sociological theory. You tried to focus, pen flying across your notebook as you jotted down her points.

“Is she always this boring?” he whispered, leaning in so his arm brushed against yours.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your notes. “If you listened, it wouldn’t be so boring.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna waste my time listening to her go on about… what is it today? Class structure?”

“Yes,” you hissed, refusing to look at him. “And if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to—”

“You’re going to what?” he challenged, his grin audible in his voice.

You snapped your mouth shut, ignoring the way his leg brushed against yours under the desk. He was doing it on purpose—nudging your knee every so often, moving a little closer until the faint scent of his cologne surrounded you.

It was infuriating.

When you glanced sideways at him, he was looking at you with that maddening, lazy grin that made your heart stutter.

“Just pay attention,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

“Why would I do that when I have such a pretty view right here?”

Your head whipped around, eyes wide. “What?”

His eyes moved back to the front of the room as if he hadn’t just made your brain short-circuit. 

“Relax, princess. Just messin' with you.”

You swallowed, trying to refocus on the lecture. His attention felt like a physical thing—it made you uneasy. 

Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you forced yourself to look at the professor, who was in the middle of explaining something about social hierarchies when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Mr. Cameron.”

The entire class fell silent.

You looked up, eyes widening in surprise as Professor Callahan fixed Rafe with a stern look.

“I’m aware that I’m not as pretty as your classmate,” she said dryly, gesturing toward you, “but I would appreciate it if you could pay attention for at least ten minutes.”

A ripple of snickers spread through the room, and your cheeks flamed scarlet. Rafe, however, didn’t blink, he was completely unruffled and offered the professor a lazy, arrogant smile.

“Sorry. Just got a little distracted.”

Your stomach dropped. He was staring at you, unabashedly.

The professor raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure.” Her tone was dry, unimpressed. “Would you mind keeping your distractions to yourself until after class?”

Another murmur of laughter swept through the room, and you shrank in your seat, mortified. His smirk widened, but he leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Of course, ma’am,” he drawled. “No more distractions.”

Professor Callahan gave him a pointed look, then turned back to the board, resuming her lecture. You sat there, face burning, refusing to look anywhere near Rafe, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Guess I got you in trouble, huh?”

You grit your teeth, still staring resolutely at the front of the room. “Stop talking.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice teasing. “You’re way more interesting than this shit.”

“Rafe, I swear—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” he said lightly, sitting back. But he didn’t take his eyes off you. You could feel him lingering, warm and intent, and you wanted to scream.

How was he so calm? So unaffected, like getting called out by the professor was just a minor inconvenience?

You hated every second of it.

“Rafe,” you hissed under your breath, finally daring to glance at him. “Will you just—”

“What?”

“Stop staring.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Can’t promise that."

Your heart hammered, and you squeezed your pen so tightly it nearly snapped. “Why are you even here?”

He shrugged, his expression turning oddly serious. “I like sitting next to you.”

Rafe Cameron—the arrogant, cocky asshole you’d written off as nothing more than a nuisance—had just chosen to stay by your side.

As soon as class ended, you gathered your things in record time, heart still thumping wildly, keeping your head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

Maybe if you were quick enough, you could escape before he decided to make good on his new, annoying habit of sticking to you like glue. But, of course, he was nothing if not persistent.

You’d barely slung your bag over your shoulder when he appeared at your side, his tall frame looming over you as he fell into step like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Heading to lunch?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire class making you the center of unwanted attention.

“Yes?” You tried not to sound as thrown as you felt.

“Cool. I’m starving.”

He said it like it was an invitation, as if he was entitled to follow you, and before you could muster up a half-hearted protest, he was already steering you through the crowded hallway.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you demanded, glancing around in panic.

People were staring, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Rafe Cameron, of all people, trailing after you. Whispers flitted through the air, disbelieving, and you shrank under the scrutiny, feeling painfully exposed.

“Uh, going to lunch with you?” He made it sound so obvious, his voice lilting with amusement.

“I didn’t invite you!” You glanced at him, trying to tamp down the fluttery, nervous feeling his presence always seemed to stir up. “What if I’m eating with someone else?”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll eat with them too.”

You gawked at him. “What?”

“Relax. It’s just lunch.”

Just lunch. This was completely absurd.

You narrowed your eyes, debating whether to make a break for it, but he was already pulling you toward the main quad, his hand ghosting the small of your back in a way that made your skin tingle. 

Your heart hammered as the familiar outdoor seating area came into view. Your friends were already there, sitting at your usual table—a small group of two girls and a guy, all talking animatedly.

Their expressions morphed from curious to shocked when they caught sight of you—and Rafe—heading straight toward them.

“Uh, hey,” you greeted awkwardly as you approached. They just stared, mouths agape.

Emily was the first to recover.

“What the—since when do you two know each other?” she asked, eyes darting between you and Rafe like she was seeing a glitch in the matrix.

“Yeah, what’s going on here?” Max, the guy in your small circle, chimed in, his gaze flicking to Rafe warily. “Is this, like… a project thing?”

“No, it’s not—” you started, but Rafe cut you off with a breezy smile.

“Can’t believe y’all kept her to yourselves this whole time,” he drawled, pulling out the chair beside yours and plopping down like he’d done it a thousand times before. “Thought you’d have the decency to introduce me to the prettiest girl on campus.”

Your friends gaped, eyes wide with shock. You could see their brains short-circuiting.

Meanwhile, you were fighting the urge to smack him upside the head.

“Please shut up,” you muttered under your breath, cheeks burning.

His gaze slid over your stunned friends with lazy amusement. “What?” he said innocently. “It’s true.”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Emily demanded, still staring at you like you’d grown a second head. “You—you and Rafe Cameron?”

You sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment. “There is no ‘me and Rafe Cameron.’ He just—he’s being annoying.”

“Annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “C’mon. I thought we were past that.”

“We are not past anything,” you snapped, shooting him a glare.

“Okay, back up,” Max interjected, brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you guys even know each other?”

“Uh, sociology class?” you offered weakly, as if that explained anything. “He’s been sitting next to me.”

“Sitting next to you?” Emily repeated slowly, as if she was trying to process a particularly difficult equation. “And now you’re… eating lunch together?”

“It’s not—” You looked helplessly at Rafe, who was watching the exchange with that insufferable smirk. “I didn’t ask him to.”

He looked completely unfazed by the mess he’d caused.

“What can I say? I like the company.”

“Since when?” Emily shot back, clearly unconvinced.

Rafe shrugged, “Since she started talking to me.”

Your friends fell silent, eyes wide and suspicious as they turned to you, searching for answers. But you just sat there, feeling utterly, hopelessly lost. What were you supposed to say? Rafe Cameron had decided, out of nowhere, to insert himself into your life? That he was following you to lunch like this was some sort of normal occurrence?

“Look,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s really not a big deal. He’s just—”

“Rafe Cameron is never ‘just’ anything,” Emily interrupted, folding her arms as she fixed Rafe with a suspicious look. “So what are you up to?"

“Nothing,” Rafe said easily, his smile all sharp edges. “Like I said, I’m just getting to know her.”

“Getting to know her,” Max echoed, skeptical.

“Yeah.” Rafe’s eyes never left yours, his eyes gleaming with something that made your pulse flutter. “What’s so weird about that?”

Your friends exchanged looks. You didn’t blame them. This was weird. More than weird.

You’d never been the kind of girl to attract attention—especially not from someone like Rafe. Popular, arrogant, and completely out of your league in every possible way. Yet, here he was, sitting with you at lunch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” He said suddenly, turning his attention back to the group, “Are you gonna sit here gaping all day, or are we gonna eat?”

Emily blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Uh, yeah, we’re… we’re eating.”

“Good.” Rafe turned to you, eyebrow raised. “You eating, princess?”

You stared at him, “I—yes?”

“Cool. Want me to grab you something?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re offering to get me lunch?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I am. What do you want?”

“I—” You swallowed, glancing at your friends, who were watching the exchange. “Um, a sandwich?”

“Got it.” Rafe pushed to his feet, “Be right back.”

To your utter disbelief, he sauntered off toward the food line, leaving you and your friends staring after him.

“What,” Max said slowly, “the fuck just happened?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I have no idea.”

The awkward lunch with Rafe didn’t end as badly as you expected.

Your friends had spent the entire time shooting you confused, bewildered looks, while he seemed to thrive under their scrutiny, lounging beside you like he belonged. He didn’t flirt—Thank God—but he didn’t tone down his usual cocky self either.

By the end of it, he’d somehow managed to charm your friends enough to leave them more confused rather than outright hostile. Still, after that lunch, you’d expected him to lose interest, to join his usual crowd and forget all about his bizarre little experiment.

You learned that the hard way two days later.

It was late afternoon, and you were holed up in one of the campus library, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes for an upcoming exam. It was your sanctuary—blissfully free of distractions.

At least, until Rafe sauntered in.

You didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in your notes, hunched over a particularly dense passage in your sociology textbook when you felt it— glancing up cautiously.

Rafe leaned against the bookshelf a feet away, his eyes fixed on you with an assessing look.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, glancing around nervously.

No one seemed to be paying attention, but you still felt like the entire room was suddenly staring.

“Studying,” he said, straight-faced.

“Since when do you study in the library?”

“Since now,” He pushed off the bookshelf and strolled over to your table, pulling out the chair across from you, “What? Can’t a guy broaden his horizons?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

“Not today.” He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he peered at your open book. “So, what’re we learning?”

“We are not learning anything,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I’m studying. You...I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Keeping you company,” he said simply. “You looked lonely.”

“Lonely?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your face. “All holed up in here with your books. Thought I’d help.”

What was he even talking about?

This was insane. He didn’t hang out in the library, especially not to “keep someone company.” He was the kind of guy who spent his free time at parties, or on the field, or wherever people like him thrived.

“Rafe,” you said slowly, “you don’t even know what I’m studying.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re trying to help,” you shot back, frustration seeping into your voice. “You’re—what are you even—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, raising his hands in surrender. “Calm down. Just trying to see what’s got you all riled up.”

You bit back a groan, rubbing your temples. You didn’t need—didn’t want—his attention.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning your textbook around so he could see the page. “I’m going over Durkheim’s theory of social integration.”

Rafe leaned in, squinting at the page. “Durkheim?”

“Yes,” you said, a little impatiently. “He believed that society functions through a collective conscience—shared beliefs and values that bind people together.”

“Sounds boring as hell,” Rafe said bluntly.

“It’s not boring,” you retorted before you could stop yourself. “It’s actually really interesting—he argued that a lack of social integration could lead to anomie, a state of normlessness that causes people to feel disconnected and isolated.”

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

At least it felt that way to you.

“What?” you demanded, suddenly self-conscious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged, a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Just… you get really into this stuff, don’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed. “It’s sociology. It’s important.”

“Yeah, but…” He shook his head, “It’s kinda cute.”

You blinked, “Cute?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a casual, easy confidence that made your heart flutter. “You get all intense when you talk about it. You actually care.”

“I—Of course I care,” you stammered, “It’s my major.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I like that about you.”

What—what was that supposed to mean? Why was he looking at you like that? Before you could untangle your thoughts, a shadow fell over the table, and you glanced up to see another student standing there—a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and glasses. He looked vaguely familiar, probably from one of your classes.

“Uh, hey,” the guy said awkwardly, glancing between you and Rafe. “Are—are you using this seat?”

Rafe’s expression changed instantly, “Yeah,” he said flatly. “We are.”

The guy blinked, taken aback. “Oh, uh, sorry, I just—”

“You just can find another table,” Rafe cut in, “We’re a little busy here.”

You gaped at him, mortified. “Rafe, stop.”

He kept staring down at the poor guy, his posture tense and unyielding until, with a muttered apology, the student backed off, scurrying away like he’d just had a close encounter with a predator.

“What's wrong with you?” You scolded as soon as the guy was out of earshot. “He just wanted to sit down!”

“Yeah, and we’re studying,” Rafe said dismissively. “No room for distractions.”

“We’re not studying anything!” you shot back, resisting the urge to smack him. “You’re sitting here, being—being weird.”

“Not weird,” he corrected, leaning in again. “Protective.”

You froze, “Protective?”

“Yeah.” His eyes locking onto yours. “Can’t have just anyone bothering you, can I?”

After the bizarre encounter in the library, you were convinced Rafe would drop this whole… whatever it was. For sure.

Surely, following you to lunch and then “protecting” you in the library was enough.

But when you found yourself at another party two nights later—dragged along by Emily despite your vehement protests—you knew it was only a matter of time before he found you. Somehow, no matter where you went, Rafe had made it his mission to seek you out.

“C'mooon, you need to have some fun,” Emily had insisted, half-pulling, half-dragging you through the front door of one of the fraternity houses on campus.

The music was already blaring, people were packed in the main room.

“This isn’t my idea of fun,” you muttered, hugging your arms around yourself as you tried to avoid brushing against the partygoers. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, exactly—it was just that the noise, the sheer volume of people could get overwhelming quickly.

“Just stay for an hour,” Emily pleaded. “Please? I swear it’ll be more fun than you think. We can dance, have a few drinks—”

“I don’t dance,” you cut in flatly, giving her a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, I’ll dance, and you… can hang out and people-watch,” she amended, undeterred. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You gave her a withering stare.

“Yeah, because I’m such a social butterfly.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate, and began making your way through the press of bodies. You managed to find a relatively quiet corner in the back, near the stairs, and gratefully leaned against the wall.

Perhaps if you stayed out of sight long enough, Emily would give up on trying to get you to socialize and let you leave early. It was a long shot, but you could hope.

You hadn’t been there long when you felt it—the familiar prickling sensation of someone’s gaze lingering on you.

Rafe, in all his infuriating glory, leaning against the wall a few feet away. He looked unfairly good, dressed in a dark button-up that clung to his frame in all the right ways, his hair tousled enough to look effortlessly cool. And, as usual, he was watching you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your stomach twisting in irritation and something else.

“Are you stalking me now?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

Rafe’s lips curved. “Would it be so bad if I was?”

“Yes,” you said, “It would be very bad.”

He chuckled, the sound low, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“Relax, princess. I just saw you standing here all alone and thought I’d come say hi.”

“Hi,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now you can leave.”

Instead, he straightened, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you in a two strides until he was standing directly in front of you.

You tried to step back, but the wall blocked your escape.

“Actually, I was thinking we could, hang out for a bit?” he suggested, tilting his head as he regarded you.

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Rafe blinked, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“Yes,” you insisted, frustration growing inside you. “Why do you keep… doing this? Showing up, sitting with me, following me to lunch, acting like—like we’re friends or something. What is your deal, Cameron?”

Slowly he reached up, bracing one hand on the wall beside your head, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“My deal,” he murmured, his voice smooth, “is that I like you.”

No. No, no, no.

That couldn’t be right, people didn't like you, they tolerated you, maybe, or found you useful sometimes, but they didn't like you, not in the way he was implying.

You felt panic rising in your chest.

“You’re lying,” you said shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re just—this is some kind of game, isn’t it? Some—some bet, or—”

Rafe’s expression tightened, “It’s not a game,” he ground out, his eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You swallowed hard, chest aching. This didn’t make sense.

“I don’t believe you,” you shook your head stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed, “No?”

“No,” you repeated, crossing your arms defiantly. “You’re just… you. You can’t just decide you like me out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t decide,” he murmured, “It just happened.”

Your breath hitched. Why was he doing this to you? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“I—” You broke off, struggling to find words, but before you could answer, a loud voice interrupted.

“Yo, Rafe! There you are, man!”

You both jerked back, startled, and you glanced over to see one of Rafe’s friends—Topper, if you remembered correctly—stumbling over, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“What are you doing back here?” Topper slurred, his gaze sliding to you. He blinked, “Who’s this?”

Rafe stepped in front of you slightly, his posture tense and protective.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said curtly, “Go find someone else to bother.”

Topper blinked, taken aback. “Whoa, man, chill. I was just—”

“Go,” Rafe repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Topper stared at him for a long moment, then slowly backed off, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Rafe turned back to you, his eyes softening again.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, “Didn’t mean to—”

“Why did you do that?” you cut in, your heart still pounding.

Rafe frowned. “Do what?”

“Get rid of him,” you said, shaking your head in confusion. “He was your friend. Why would you—”

Maybe you’d misread him, he didn’t mean any of what he said. He was probably bored, looking for some amusement—another toy to play with for a little while.

“I wanted to talk to you. Not him.”

You blinked, bewildered. “But he’s your friend.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “So? Doesn’t mean I want him interrupting us.”

Us. Like there was an “us.” Like there could ever be an “us.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “But I don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I don’t get it. You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours in a way that made it hard to breathe. “More than you think.”

You frowned.

It was impossible to ignorethe nagging feeling that he was just… playing with you, this was all some sick joke and at any moment, the punchline would hit, and you’d be the idiot.

“You’re messing with me,” you muttered, taking a small step to the side to put some space between you. “You’re bored or something.”

“I’m not bored,” he said firmly, stepping forward to close the gap you’d just created. “I told you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t ask for this. You’ve been following me around, showing up where I am, saying all these things like—like we’re something, but we’re not.”

His eyes narrowed, not believing what he was hearing. “What are you talking about? You think I’m just messing around?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted, throwing your hands up. “Yes, I do! Why else would you be doing this? You’re Rafe Cameron, for god’s sake. You don’t even like me. This is just some twisted game to you, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, trying to read his face, find any hint of dishonesty, any sign that this was all an act. But all you saw was that same intensity. Panic kept grazing at you. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.

People didn’t seek you out at parties or show up in libraries to talk about sociology. Guys like Rafe didn’t choose people like you.

There had to be some ulterior motive.

“You show up out of nowhere, act like I’m some project, some… someone who needs your protection—why, Rafe? Because I don’t fit into your world? Because I’m a joke to you and your friends?”

“That’s not it,” He growled, his voice defensive. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You haven’t given me a reason to believe any of this.”

“You think I’m lying? 

You moved your head again, harder this time.

“You’re—you’re saying things that don’t make sense. I don’t understand.”

He took a slow, poising breath, "What doesn't make sense to you?" 

"All of this," you replied, your voice quivering with frustration, "You, acting like you—like you care. Like you see me. People don’t do that, not for someone like me. I don’t—" You cut yourself off, not sure how to finish the sentence, your thoughts spiraling.

It wasn’t just that you couldn’t believe him; it was that you didn’t know how to. Your experiences had taught you to be wary, always look for the catch, because there always was one.

Always.

Rafe's brows drawn together in something that almost looked like concern.

"Someone like you?" he repeated, "What does that even mean?"

You swallowed, feeling your insecurities gripping down on your chest.

"It means I’m not… like you. I don’t know how to talk to people, I don’t get things right all the time. People don’t notice me, and when they do, it’s usually because I’ve done something wrong, or because they want something from me. That’s just how it is."

He shook his head.

"That’s not how I see you."

You opened your mouth to argue, to dismiss what he was saying, to protect yourself from the disappointment that was sure to come.

Rafe didn’t give you the chance. 

"So I’m messing with you because you’re not like everyone else? Is that it? You think I’m playing some kind of game because you don’t fit into some stupid idea of who’s supposed to matter?" 

You wanted to recoil into the safety of your doubts, but something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you, made you stop.

"I’m not going to pretend like I know everything about you," Rafe continued, no less serious. "But I know enough to know that I like you. I don’t care if you don’t fit in with my world, or whatever you think that means. I like that you’re passionate about the things you care about. I like that you don’t put up with anyone’s shit—not even mine." A small, almost self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I’ve spent enough time around fake people to know the difference."

You weren’t used to this kind of sincerity. Part of you still wanted to push it away, reject it before it had a chance to hurt you. But another part of you—a much smaller, quieter part—was whispering that maybe he meant it.

"Why me?"

"Because you're you," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Cliché as fuck. So why were you shaking?

The two of you just stood there, the noise of the party fading while your mind was processing everything.

"I’m not… I’m not good at this," you admitted, "At understanding what people mean, or knowing if they’re being serious or not. I don’t know how to read you."

Rafe’s eyes softened even more at your confession, and he took a deep breath.

"I get that," he said quietly. "I’m not always great at this either. But I’m serious. I wouldn’t lie to you, not about this."

You wanted to believe him. But there was still that tiny voice of doubt in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the times you’d been wrong before, of all the times you’d trusted someone only to be let down.

You hesitated, "I don’t know if I can."

He didn’d demand anything from you, instead, he nodded.

"That’s okay. You don’t have to believe me right now. But I’ll be here when you’re ready."

With that, he stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed. That small, almost hopeful smile was gonna hunt you for the next days.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong about him after all.

[mscherub]

Right, so…you’re transported to a new world, and me being the science geek I am, I can’t help but think of all the bacteria you wouldn’t be accustomed to in Twisted Wonderland…so imagine how bad flu season would be, or just the spreading of sicknesses around the school in general

You better have a good immune system cause oml would it be put into overdrive. Anyways…here’s my twist on what the Octavinelle boys would do in order to be helpful in your recovery ❤️‍🩹

Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings!:

Sickness, obviously

Mentions of vomiting, snot, etc

To start us off…

It’s flu season in Twisted Wonderland, well you call it the flu, they call it something else you don’t even bother to learn. With you’re immune so shot and not used to the illnesses that spread around, getting sick more often that you honestly should, you woke up with a headache. Ok…nothing too serious, but you thought it to be a good idea to just take some ibuprofen equivalent in their world and “thug it out,” which ultimately lead to your current situation. Currently, you’re in the infirmary, having passed out from a raging fever and a disgustingly congested respiratory system during PE and you’re bed ridden back at ramshackle, at least until your fever goes down. Sevens bless Grim and the ghosts as they try and get you things to feel better, but you need some sort of intervention, and here comes you’re favorite person at the right time. How do they help you out?

Azul🐙:

“Sign the contract and, you know, I can just take away the sickness, all I need is something in return—“ he’ll pull that card first, but then of course he’ll get serious about it once he sees how bad you look (no offense…)

Mans can cook, we’ve known this, so he’ll cook up a nice meal for you, and he’ll do whatever…just not takoyaki, don’t even say that, he’ll walk out

Ok, anyways, very technical man, so he’s on top of your medicines that you have to take, and maybe he’ll even brew up a potion of something to help with coughs, headaches, or any achyness.

I mean, his motto is to help those poor unfortunate souls in need, and clearly your in need so, he’ll do this for you, just once, but you will have to pay him back, and he’ll state this more than just a few times

He’s researched things on humans before coming to land, just the way he is, and he’s not exactly that weird like the twins, so he won’t eye you when you cough, sneeze, or puke, or anything else, if anything he’ll be grossed out.

Comfort is awkward for him, but he’ll sit on the edge of your bed, reading or something, kinda just being there. He might hum quietly, (IM NOT NORMAL FOR AZUL, ID FALL ASLEEP SO QUICK IF HE HUMMED A LULABY OR SOME SHIT)…must have been the wind yall—

He’s busy, so if he may or may not sub out one of the twins for him. But after he’s done with whatever, if he has time to come back, he will. Not because he cares that much or anything…

Afterwards he’ll ask you to pay him back by washing dishes at the lounge or something. At least he’s giving you an easy job

Jade🫧:

He likes being depended on like…like a lot we’ll just say that

He’ll pamper the FUCK outa you, but there’s always a meaning behind it, but yea, when I mean pamper, I mean pamper.

He’ll make you tea for a sore throat, any foods you want, though he may sneak mushrooms in, so be weary?

Merfolk don’t really get “sick” underwater, so sneezing, coughing, it’s all interesting to him still even after being on land for so long already. Humans look funny when they do it, and he just can’t help but wanna coddle you like a baby, so safe to say if you like puke or anything he won’t bat an eye. ”Funny. Do it again”

He’s on top of medicines as well so don’t even worry, he’ll probably try and find other medicines though to make you feel “better.” It’s Jade, what do you expect

I think he’d hum quietly while he does stuff around your room, wether that be cleaning or organizing stuff, and he’d do that on purpose to try and “soothe you to sleep.”

Afterwards when your better, he’ll say you have to pay him back, but bro is just weird and paying him back would honestly be letting him take care of you again 💀

Floyd 🫧:

Shrimpy is in trouble? The fuck you mean they can’t go mess around? He’ll come in, look at you, purse his lips while inspecting you, let out a huff, say how weak and silly little Shrimpy is for getting sick, then start to be a little nice.

Honestly depends on his moods. If you catch him in a bad one he’ll still go to your room, but he’ll sit there and glare at you, and you being sick will piss him off more, cause now your no fun. Just pout at him and he might give in.

Semi-ok mood, he’ll get in bed and drape himself over you to “heal you.” I mean, whatever works I guess :/

Again with the whole sickness thing, he finds it funny when you sneeze, cough, snot up, puke. He’ll laugh, and if you glare at him he’ll tease you more no doubt, it’s Floyd. He’ll still try and calm you down, in his way, though. Squeezing may not be a good option if you just threw up—

If you ask him for anything he’ll do it, and again, depends on the mood.(But hypothetically let’s say he’s in a good mood for the majority of this)

He’ll make you food, get you blankets, mostly anything you ask him to do, and just the things you ask him to do, he won’t do anything else.

“Medicine? Wait…you’re supposed to take that?” Let’s just say he’d forget, but then sometimes he’d remember, mix of both.

He’ll lay in bed with you and get all comfy, he doesn’t care if he gets sick, says he can’t and that he just wants to make Shrimpy better <3

He’ll forget to ask you to pay him back, he had fun, so he doesn’t care

I wrote this all in one sitting, a rarity for me, also during a study hall…anyways!

Hope you enjoyed, lovelies! More soon for sure!

(Also I think yall can tell what dorm is my favorite now-)

Master list

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[rallamajoop]

An absurdly detailed analysis of That One Soldat Photo

Hang around wintersberg fandom long enough, and you'll likely run into a popular crack-theory that, since Heisenberg obviously thinks that building a set of huge, yellow-painted signposts is a good way to point Ethan to the Stronghold, maybe it's Heisenberg who's been leaving all those handy, yellow-painted supply crates all over the place for Ethan to find! It's exactly the kind of fun nonsense I'd enjoy if it didn't feel folks are starting to take it a little too literally (by which I mean I have now read multiple fics in which it's played completely straight ‒ and, like, people do get that it's just a crack theory, right? Like, why would Heisenberg have left so many yellow crates around his own damn factory? Look, you don't have to explain every last game mechanic, not everything is lore!)

But as anyone reading my own fic would know, I'm guilty of echoing the idea that Heisenberg-was-leaving-stuff-for-Ethan myself ‒ just not because of any yellow-striped crates. No, I'm way more interested in this one weird soldat-photo you can find in the village ‒ long hours before you'll ever see your first Soldat in the flesh...

Very creepy. And if you turn it over, you'll find a clue to a puzzle you'll have to solve in order to progress.

(And of course, when you do look out the window, odds are you'll get jump-scared by a lycan just when you're focused on the numbers, because RE8 loves that sort of misdirection ‒ but I digress.)

Anyway, the code you can see out the window will open a safe containing a jack handle you'll need to move a vehicle in the village, as well as the M1911 pistol (which will very likely be your go-to handgun for the rest of the game). The game is full of conveniently-helpful clues like that (heck, most games are), often with no obvious Watsonian justification. And there are other photos around the village ‒ Luiza has a whole photo album ‒ but photos of experiments created by Miranda and her lords don't generally turn up outside their own territory.

For a player exploring the village for the first time, that photo is a lovely little bit of foreshadowing, hinting at monsters and factory stages to come. But on replaying with full knowledge of Heisenberg's later attempts to get Ethan on his side, that Soldat photo is just enough to make you go, huh... did Heisenberg leave that for Ethan? Like, on purpose?

You can find another copy of that photo later, in Heisenberg's factory, along with his notes on his early series Soldat experiments. Which doesn't really prove anything beyond the fact that assets exist to be reused... but it does at least make it pretty canon that Heisenberg has photos of his Soldats sitting around.

Possibly also significant: both the clue photo and the factory documents are tagged 'geekmemo' in the game files. Most everything related to Heisenberg in the files is labeled 'geek'-something ‒ it seems to be an early nickname for his character that lasted well into production. Everything in the factory is geek-something, even the model for the passageway from the altar to the bridge is labeled 'pathtogeek'. Considering that so many soldat-related assets are already labeled 'geek', maybe that 'geekmemo' tag doesn't really tell us anything we don't already know ‒ but it certainly doesn't work against the idea that Heisenberg wrote that 'memo' himself.

Besides, it's not like there isn't precedent for this kind of thing. RE7 had a whole mechanic where you'd have to find 'treasure photos' pointing out the location of a few rare and useful items, all with "I hid something here" written on the back. We're never explicitly told who left those photos lying around, but it's obviously Lucas: he loves playing games, he loves taunting prisoners with the possibility of escape, and who else would it be? The complete population of the Baker mansion is like 6 people and a bunch of semi-sentient mould.

Over in RE8, there are a lot more village resident who might have left that clue lying around. Like it or not though, Heisenberg is very much RE8's equivalent of Lucas: the family's wildcard show-boater who loves making Ethan jump through hoops for his amusement. So how does the game let us know it was Heisenberg who left this particular clue? Well, who else would leave a message on the back of a Soldat photo?

There's may be additional supporting evidence Heisenberg could be involved ‒ most notably the location, being a locked-off cul-de-sac labeled 'Workshop' on signs and maps. The area is full of metal junk very much like you'll later see lying around the factory.

The workshop location does have other relevance ‒ it makes sense that you'd find the jack handle in the village workshop, whether Heisenberg was involved or not. But it also stands to reason that if there's anywhere in the village proper where Heisenberg might hang around and leave clues for Ethan, the workshop is it. And you have to admit that leaving Ethan useful stuff in a safe along with an easy clue that will likely get him jumped by a lycan is 100% more in-character for the guy than just leaving useful stuff out in the open, even if it doesn't really prove anything either.

There's one more weird-little does-this-mean-anything detail: there are three dead crows near the safe too.

It's not the first time in the game you've seen dead crows (there were a bunch outside the village, and I've talked about what that might mean in the context of Miranda's cult before). But I don't remember finding any others around the village itself, other than in this one spot. And instead of being hung from trees like a ritual sacrifice, these ones are just dead ‒ messily, and with blood everywhere.

Now, maybe it doesn't mean anything, but is there anyone in the village more likely to vent his frustrations by violently killing a few of Mother Miranda's avian avatars than Heisenberg? I'd think not.

In conclusion: I still don't think all those yellow crates have anything to do with Heisenberg. And I still don't know for sure whether the RE8 development team wanted me to assume that Heisenberg left Ethan that photo, jack handle and gun. I don't know if we're supposed to read that Heisenberg keeps a workshop in the village and sometimes kills crows out of spite. But the evidence sure does point that way ‒ and it's as valid an interpretation as anything else you might take from this game.

[vhstown]

miles g morales ★ general headcanons

warnings: sort of angsty, mentions of his dad's death, money being tight and such 😞

a/n: hi my little piranhas im feeding you today say AHHHHHHHH.... all my random non-relationship miles g thoughts dumped into one! he has 6 lines but less is more right 😁 im okay i promi

Let me just geek out about his non-existent gear functions for a moment 😞 Miles is all about little modifications and improvement so when he messes around with his uncle's gear he decides to make some adjustments to the design and also the functionality. Has his own spin to all of his gear cause a part of him really wants to be like the superheroes he sees in comics with their own sort of persona. But of course it has to be functional so...!

All of his gear is coordinated and he has a mode where he can turn off all the lights for stealth and such! The lights are actually off most of the time but he puts them on to show off mostly or make himself known when he's bored of waiting.

A really cool function would be if he could redirect or offset his lights so when he's fighting in complete darkness he can easily confuse his enemies. Tends to scope out places and mess around with the power supplies — uses the occasional smoke bomb too. He's in his element in dark, maze-like places, which essentially makes Brooklyn his concrete playground.

Scarily good at lockpicking. Has broken into his own house multiple times from forgetting his keys. He can open most doors with simple tools and disable electronic locks with a little work.

Can I just mention his shoes as well... they're like the jumpy shoes from Subway Surfers you can't prove me wrong until the next movie comes out like— Okay no but seriously I imagine he can stick to surfaces and things and maybe they can propell him upwards? You see those glowing lights idk figure it out 😞

Also somebody (I have no idea who but here's the link to the original post) had a headcanon that he'd have a high auditory intelligence, so for a while, he spends time developing a voice modulator. He likely has one anyway to keep his identity a secret, but what he really wants to do is is create a device that can replicate other people's voices.

Because he's good with sound and physics he makes it work in no less than a few weeks. The first voice he tries is his uncle's and he says a bunch of dumbass stuff. (Aaron is a little annoyed but more proud of his nephew than anything.) Eventually it gets to the point where he can calibrate it with a couple clicks since he has such a good ear for frequencies and the like that deceiving villains is no trouble at all.

I think Aaron and Miles would still have that cool uncle and nephew relationship but its also a mentor and student one. While Miles is good at the tech stuff I think he's a pretty lousy fighter at the beginning and Aaron has to teach him a LOT.

Uncle Aaron probably used to fight for sport back in the day (boxing mayhaps? 😁) so a lot of Miles' technique stems from MMA due to its versatility (anything hand-to-hand at least.) Even then, most of the problem is being able to think quick and act quicker, so Miles goes through lots of practical training (so he's being chased by the Sinister Six from day one 😭) It's well worth it though because without the Spider-powers he has a lot of catching up to do.

While training with Aaron he's exposed to a lot of his old records and develops a taste for jazz. He comes to associate certain manoeuvres with the way the music goes, so he tends to hum to himself while casually knocking the wind out of people. His uncle finds it just a little creepy, but again, he's glad to see Miles coming along.

In fact, Aaron is relieved. His nephew had been reserved and was pretty much holed up in his own room for weeks after his dad passed. Of course the passing of Jefferson was hard on Aaron, but Miles has it even harder. Eventually, they decide to paint the mural together, and Miles lets Aaron know what's on his mind. He's always been close to his uncle but especially then spending time roaming the streets, painting, boxing and listening to old records was his lifeline.

Miles figures out his uncle is the Prowler before Aaron even lets him in on it. After seeing how determined his nephew his is, that's when it all started.

But with everything going on in his vigilante life, his normal life is something he has has to be careful not to fall behind on. At the age where college applications are coming up, Miles is driven to the bone with school, despite not actually being there half the time. Still, he's somehow averaging As and the occasional B, easily the top of his class in AP Physics and Calc.

He doesn't try to talk to people in school like he might've before, but he's not antisocial by any means (sometimes his bluntness is mistaken for talking back though 💀)

He's also the type of dude to do homework as soon as the teacher hands it out, because he knows he will not have time later (and to avoid all the night-before crises of freshman year.)

Rio is being pulled thin too, always covering shifts for her colleagues at the hospital just so she can have a little extra pay. She's been saving for Miles' birthday since his last one, always checks his clothes for holes or if they still fit, and makes sure there's something in the microwave if she can't be there for dinner. Rio makes sure he always has everything he needs, even while paying bills and rent. They're not struggling too much, but it's not like they can do whatever they want.

Despite that, they're managing; what she doesn't know is that the sigh of relief she breathes every month is because of him. Miles always makes sure to take care of his belongings, put in any cash he makes from his "part time job" into her account, just doing whatever he can to help. Also, he's become more and more protective of his mom, and he always takes the opportunity to do errands for her, especially when it's getting dark outside.

Miles is actually more paranoid than her when it comes to saving. Even when it's winter, and she tells him to turn on the heating whenever, you best believe he's throwing on his jacket in his own room and firming the cold. It's entirely unnecessary of course, but he can't shake the guilt when he feels the only reason his mom works so hard is because of him. They've moved twice already and there's no way they're moving again, so if the landlord gives them trouble he'll just give them hell (let's just hope it won't come to that.)

Miles learnt how to treat his own injuries from Rio. She taught him basic first aid at the very least, and on a couple of occasions he's tried to learn things himself with the clunky old first aid kit at home. Rio never asks why the stitch on one of their pillows is done with dental floss, and looks strangely like that of a suture (a very bad one at that.)

His Spanish also improved a lot too. After his dad's passing, he met a lot of relatives from his mom's side that he doesn't remember ever seeing before, but it encourages him to learn how to speak better. Long gone are the days of silently observing family drama over the phone — he has to keep up now, and he'll defend his mom cada día de la semana (even if she's somewhat embarrassed by it.) Essentially he's at that level of fluency where he can be rude without being rude 😭 (just saying some of the things his relatives say are NOT helpful.)

With all of this going on in his life, it's no surprise that sleep doesn't come easy. Or maybe it is, considering how much he works his body. Either way, he's left staring at the ceiling or curled up on his side most nights, the untouched toys and collectibles in his room to keep him company. Miles used to sleep at 8pm on the dot and wake up at 6; that was when things were good, and he didn't have his whole universe on his shoulders. All his bed is now is a place to collapse, and close his eyes until it's light outside. Most days, he's exhausted — bone-tired — but the most he gets is a light, forced, uncomfortable sleep. It's one in which he wakes up more tired than he was the night before, but he presses on, getting exercise in during the morning and trying to make breakfast for his mom because he knows a slice of toast is the most she'd bother to have.

And despite all that's changed since his dad has passed, Miles is still a kid. He has a thousand pictures from the time he went to Comic-con, a sketchbook full of drawings he never finishes, meticulously-organised playlists, college applications — all in the midst of a city that's falling apart at the seams as much as he is.

But he's okay, for now. As much as he can be.

"Keep your head up, son."

It's what his dad would've wanted, at the very least.

@phoenixinthefiles @qiupachups

hey 😊 "where's ain't no love part thre—" (GLASS SHATTERING NOISE) (CAT MRYEOWING) (BABY CRYING) (POLICE SIRENS) (WEE WOO WEE WOO)

forget miles IM being pulled thin ... half of this may or may not be projection... schrödingers headcanons anyone 😞 anyways ive been like busy. so . SOON! (lying in 4K)

reblogs appreciated!!! 😘 FIND MY MASTERLIST HERE and urrrr my 42 x reader headcanons here if you're interested ?

[straightupclownin]

I’ve watched HTTYD Live Action and it was amazing! So, I wanna know what is their reaction to the movie?

Me because I haven’t seen it yet😞

I’m gonna make it so Mason is still yknow Finney and not Finney secretly being an actor or whatever it’s just a lil coincidence🫶

Griffin: why do I feel like he’d geek out over the dragons- and the way toothless looks and everything like I feel like he’d be bouncing in his seat at like the movie (me)

Billy: little scriptwriter at heart, analyzing the dialogue, won’t say anything about it but is analyzing all of it and the way it’s written (I totally don’t do that when I watch any movie what do you mean)

Vance: probably to notice first that the actor playing Hiccup looks like Finney (he’s smart guys trust) somehow everyone else doesn’t realize (except for Robin, sort of)

Bruce: this kid probably watched all the movies all the shows, this secret nerd- he’s like geeking about the whole thing like “OH THATS THE ORIGINAL VOICE ACTOR RIGHT THERE- oh is that a reference to—“ (I’ve only watched the first chat- is that bad?)

Robin: I’m gonna make a little jokey joke and say that he’d say the actor for Hiccup is attractive and then Vance would point out he looks exactly like Finney and everyone starts laughing at him cause Robin is flustered af🙏

Finney: (honestly what do you say about the actual actors characters responses to the actors other character-) I feel like he’d like it, probably be confused for a moment because he looks like Hiccup, but that would probably make him like it more cause he’s the main character and the movies cool and—

Gwen: While I usually say Robin critiques movies (he’s too distracted with his damn crush) she’s probably gonna be like- “oh this is too much action- it’s not kid like and awkward”

(which is an ACTUAL valid criticism I’ve seen in my opinion, not race or actors looks like as long as they’re good and play the character well it doesn’t matter- anyway-)

Donna: she definitely loves Astrid, (I actually really love Astrid a lot I didn’t think I would when I first watched the original) anyway she definitely would love Astrid and the movie- and also ✨cinematography✨ (as do I) like set design and everything

@just-call-mefr1es

Loren: he’s loving listening to Griffin ramble about the dragons and how he actually really loves dragons (dragons are cool guys trust)

Marie: she’d definitely really love the movie, like kids movies- or movies intended for younger audiences in general are her way of getting a proper childhood

(me core, my favorite movie before TBP was Rise of the Guardians, because I wasn’t allowed to believe in Santa and all that, I really love kids movies and stupid ‘childish’ movies cause of all that missing childhood stuff)

[ewaneneollav]

[C] hi

alcohol got me geeked out writing letters & stuff.... imsorry for getting into being a downer or anything, i love you, i hope youre ok

i want to be calm soft sedate half-lidded with you. theres a dormant nice feeling in my heart that i can feel quite recognizably, but not adequately describe, but i would like to learn to portray it on my self, my self as a canvas.. it's this soft thing like looking over at the trees & the way light absorption fades distant ones in the morning

i would like to be "normal" in the best & least drab sense

one dove

maybe we could early morning walk, to the park that [L]'s party was at , set out while it's still dark, right before the sun starts to rise

two doves

i need to be reformatted in many abstract ways

i need to be fished out from so deep within myself

at any moment, i am not really entirely sure what it is i actually want to do

i need a long pleasant acquaintance with a quiet room & the ambient sounds out the window, a quietude i'm estranged from because i won't just stop & allow it for myself.. i need to just sit in one spot & not feel like i have to be doing something to justify my existence..

i place all the meaning of my own experiences in the act of reporting them to others, like it were all useless inside me, & so i were trying to evacuate everything out of me & give it to people who might actually have use for it... i need to instead just be the locus of the meaning of my own experiences

holding your bracelet with the old family photographs trying to take my time with it, look at each one & take my time & not move on until i've felt out how each picture feels to me

the fear that i'll be stuck inside forever, take too long to adequately acquaint with my own desires, never know how to see & talk like everyone else, never be really real, is, a harrowing cliff's edge inside me that i never feel far from but i am going to try not to think about it, i will try try try not to & i have lived in the sun before, deep in the sunlight & i can be there again

i can't know exactly what it's like to be you but i think you're doing a fantastic job at existing, [C]

i must suppose you harbor a fair amount of your own pain but you turn it into something so good. or you don't let it interfere with the production that happens anyway of something that is so good

three doves

it's different this morning because, for once, the attic is chilly

apropos nothing: i hope you don't have to deal with too much within yourself that you feel the need to conceal from anyone & everyone - i don't say this for any particular reason, i am just thinking about... how... anyone we know could have that sort of enclave, & since such things tend to be concealed by definition, one can only speculate at the amount & nature of these things for each person they know

the things i am writing this morning may not appear strictly connected but they are all under the umbrella of an urge to write to you gently this morning

i can only send you an additional dove each hour & discover the size of the group of little doves which will greet you when you come online thus verifying for me that you are ok

i really hope none of my personal distresses have ever played too great a part in setting any bad tones for your own headspace

on the same slat of the wood paneling in here is two pareidolias that are exceedingly similar & both quite good

four doves

thinking about how... i... would... have no idea how to, in your stead, give the world even an adequate sliver of the thing that you give to the world. if... you were not here. i think you're ok, i'm not in a catastrophizing mindset, just... thinking... & if i have occasion to have that thought then i want to say it

five doves

now that i have sent my doves i will go buy tea. i'm sorry for being so much last night.. aha.. apologies also if the volume of writing this morning is intimidating. it's felt like a kind of slow & sedate accumulation on my end, but - i know you'll kind of open the app & it'll just be there all at once

six doves

[ihavesomethinginmygarage]

(Big shitpost with my thoughts 😕)

In high school and college I got bullied all the time, hence I developed a bit of a shaky trust in people, nervousness and stuff.

Now I'm often approached by all sorts of weird mens who like my geek image and stuff.

It's not that I'm against having a kinky guy in my couple who likes experimentation and geeks (because I'm the same and ready to eat my future favorite person (?)).... It's just that I don't have any trust in anyone else anyway.... mimimimimimimi 😑

But I literally have batteries up my ass and I like to give all my attention to other people if they don't mind it....... I'm like a hunting dog that needs to be constantly having fun and having fun, but I'm locked out of my $300 job and among the walls of my dorm room

I really wanted to go out with someone all the time and have fun, damn it.... but I'm a softie and I'm afraid of all the stuff.

[wesleycrushers]

Hey, I need the lore on the Wil Wheaton national TV fiasco. I'm intrigued.

I apologize for letting this sit in my inbox for a hot minute, being an adult with responsibilities and stuff is stupid 😒 (especially when you have an uncontrolled chronic illness on top of it, but anywho)

my time has finally come

okay I lied just a little because it wasn't technically Wil Wheaton that made fun of me, but you'll get what I mean in a moment

So about ten(ish) years ago, Wil had a short lived series on Syfy called the Wil Wheaton Project and for those unfamiliar, he would basically discuss the geek news of the week (like, I know Gotham was airing at the same time, so he would often talk about the latest episode) and there were sketches and guest stars and things of that nature.

But, let me give you some context on me ten years ago, so I can really paint the picture of how batshit this was for me. So, I would've been around 19, maybe 20, at that time, and I had just watched Next Gen for the first time and instantly fell in love (it was actually the first star trek series I had seen, and it's what got me into it). But, not only did I love the show and characters as a whole, I was OBSESSED with Wesley in particular (and Data, but that's not relevant to this story), and at that point in my life I was so much worse than I am now in the sense that, when I was fixated on a certain character, I was FIXATED. Which made me want to look up what Wil was doing in the present day. (it certainly didn't help that i developed a brief little crush on adult Wil). Like, I bought and read his book, I watched and rewatched every movie of his I could get my hands on (Toy Soldiers and Stand By Me in particular were practically playing on a loop), I would rewatch the Wesley episodes like. It was bad lol

So, when I found out he was going to have a new show on Syfy, ofc I was super thrilled and my ass was SEATED from day one when it first premiered. I would faithfully watch it every single week while live tweeting. But, obviously the only episode I ever missed live ended up being the one where I was mentioned lmao I can't remember exactly why I couldn't watch it right away, it's been ten years lol But, I think I was just out or something so I had my DVR set. Normally I would've just watched it the second I got home, but my Mom really enjoyed it as well so I promised I would save it until the next night so we could watch together. As soon as I said good night to her, I logged onto twitter and. all these random people were tweeting me and retweeting a couple of my tweets and I was like "????" I used twitter a lot back then, but I still like. my following was very modest, and I was only involved in one (1) fandom on there, so things like that did not happen to me. And what's worse, the first few people that tweeted at me didn't really explain why?

BUT THEN. I got to one that I still remember it to this day both because it's when I was sort of clued in to what had happened and also because the tweet itself was kinda funny to me. It said something like "just watched the wil wheaton project and immediately had to run to twitter to see if you're real, I'm so glad you are. Have a good evening!" and that's when the adrenaline kicked in. I saw a few more tweets mention the Wil Wheaton Project so at this point I'm literally shaking lmao and I ran into my Mom's room to show her and to freak out a little so she's like "alright, let's go watch it"

And we're watching it, and everything's normal, Wil's just talking about the nerdy stuff that happened that week and I'm just getting more confused as to what I had to do with this BUT THEN

(as a sidenote, they obviously showed my twitter username, but I'd rather not repeat it here because I started it when I was a very young teenager and I no longer have access to it and I'm sure there's stuff on there from past me that would get me doxxed and killed on the "we piss on the poor" no nuance website)

Anyway, he had this segment with Skeletor where Skeletor would read mean tweets, and since this was the season 1 finale (which, unfortunately, also turned out to be the series finale), Skeletor was reading tweets disparaging the Wil Wheaton Project. AND THEN ALL OF THE SUDDEN, MY TWEET POPS UP ON THE SCREEN BEHIND WIL AS HE SAYS SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF, "I happen to know a lot of people like watching the show. For example, [REDACTED] said, 'My Tuesday isn't complete without a new episode of the #WilWProject :)'"

and that's about where I burst into (very excited!) tears lmao my mom had to lovingly shush me because she was trying to hear what was being said but I was too busy crying

So, then Skeletor made comment about how I must be a woman of sophistication before he pulled up another one of my tweets that read, "I love sitting on countertops and I don't know why" and then he said one or two more things making fun of me and my love of sitting on countertops and that was about it lol

But the thing is, those two tweets were not back to back. I was a young millennial on social media, I was posting every damn thought that popped into my head lmao and idk when they started planning out the next week's show and writing the jokes, but there's about a 50% chance that either Wil himself or someone on his team saw some of tweets where I talked about how adorable I thought Wesley was in his uniform 🤦🏻‍♀️ (I like to imagine my absolute nightmare scenario where Wil and maybe a few writers are all sitting around some table and my tweets are just projected onto a screen in the front of the room or something. I don't want to be corrected if that's not what happened, I'd rather just live with that image forever 😂)

Anyway, I can't remember exactly how long it was after that happened, but I believe it was at least a few days, Wil posted on his website that unfortunately, the show had been canceled. Except he titled that particular post with "if you like sitting on countertops..." which was so bittersweet for me. Like, I was obviously super bummed his show hadn't made it but it was so exciting that I wasn't just a blip on his radar, like I was still a part of the running gag! And, as I said, it's been a decade since this happened but I still think of it at least once a year on the anniversary, if not more often, because it was legit one of the top 5 moments of my life lol

I've always hoped that I would get to go to a convention or something and meet him so I could be like "I'm the countertop girl!" but sadly, especially with COVID, that hasn't happened yet. Perhaps someday :)

[the-mononoke-facade]

Something random I just picked up on trying to work with the show soundtrack on my piano again for the nth time earlier (I really need to geek out about OST and music theory stuff more here I swear)

So pretty much all of the "sad" songs on the soundtrack can be mapped to G minor (Samishige, Kanashige, Hakanage, that one unnamed one in the show that I'm salty didn't actually make it onto the soundtrack but tends to play when romance stuff is being talked about)

One could make an argument that Utsurigi could be called a sad song and it maps pretty consistently to A minor, but Utsurigi is not used for sad/touching moments like the ones I listed before, it's more used to indicate the "for now" resolution of an arc (even when it's used in the other two Ayakashi stories that don't directly relate to Mononoke), so for the purposes of this thought, it's not in the same category

Anyway, so the sad/touching songs tend to loiter around G minor, which, if you're one to ascribe symbolism to western key signatures, this one often gets associated with regret, so that makes a lot of sense

Except I omitted a bit of information when I was initially listing out the pattern. Hakanage is in G minor...eventually. And at first glance, it seems like it stays in that key throughout the track and just borrows chords from other keys here and there. And if you wanted to notate it out like that, you sure could, there would be nothing inherently wrong with that notation

But listening more to the song, it actually sounds at its most stable when it lands on D minor chords for the first half. The song really really wants to be in G minor in that part, but it has to fight to try to keep its place there. Every time it lands on G minor it tends back to D minor, just to try to drag itself back up to G minor, trying all sorts of other chords to resolve from to keep it in that G minor but never really being able to find its footing with that. It feels timid and tentative and demoralizing right up until everything goes quiet on a questioning F Major, and then that beat of silence is broken by the strings coming back in at full-force, spiraling heavy back to G minor to finally stay there unambiguously for the rest of the song

It's frustration and it's avoidance and yearning until you can't lie to yourself anymore and have to face your own feelings and it's all conveyed beautifully in a fairly unobtrusive track, and this is the kind of auditory storytelling I love to hear to in OSTs, really

[hecatesbroom]

How I organise my (fic) writing in Notion

@this-geek wondered how I organised my works in Notion, and considering I'm nothing if not always happy to ramble about anything concerning lists and sorting my various things, here we are ;) thanks for giving me an excuse to talk about this haha

Under the cut because I have unfortunately rambled quite a bit (sorry!)

Okay so first off: I really only use Notion for my fic writing (I prefer to work on original projects in physical notebooks or Word, for reasons unknown to even me) and I only keep my first drafts in here. I move on to Google Docs for second drafts (again, who knows why I do this? I sure don't!) Anyway, onto the organisation:

This is what my main page looks like! I have some fancy sidebars I never really use, the to do list is horribly outdated, and I haven't updated that quote (from one of my favourite book series: The Locked Tomb) in ages, but I still think it looks nice!

The thing this is mainly about, though, is the part in the middle that says "all fics". This is what Notion calls a database. It's basically one gigantic collection of pages (in my case: fics) that you can add tags to and display in various different ways. I prefer gallery view because it allows me to add a picture to the overview if I want to. I used to do this for my Locked Tomb fics and it looked pretty fun:

The thing is that it's also a lot of work to find pictures to match your fics (and nowadays I'm more focused on writing than all the thing surrounding it) so my Golden Girls overview looks more like this! I still like the gallery view because it gives you a little preview of every wip :)

As you can see, there's lots of different tags under the titles. The stuff you see in this view is a quick overview (mostly to help with sorting, so all my posted wips line up, and the rest shows up according to which state of unfinishedness they're currently in)

When you click any fic in this view, you'll be taken to the actual fic, and its complete overview of tags & info! I like to keep track of a lot of things (when I remember to, anyway). Here's a little overview for the things I tracked for the finish line :)

Created: shows me the date I started the document (and therefore the fic). Very useful! I love this feature a lot

Fandom: is mainly there for organisation purposes! I set my gallery view to toggle per fandom, so it's all sorted into neat little sections thanks to this tag

Characters: pretty self explanatory

Type: I've got several categories here: "one-shot", "multi-chapter", "drabble", "ficlet", and (reserved for one AU in particular) "i honestly don't know anymore"

Status: again, there's quite a few options for this one: "plotting", "writing draft 1", "1st draft", "2nd draft", "finished", "posted", "hiatus" and "abandoned" (which I rarely use)

Quick summary: is where I play around with my ao3 summary whenever I'm bored and don't really feel like writing

Draft 1 wc: I usually just put the final word count for the first draft there, unless I remember to track individual writing sessions (in which case I add those word counts as well, like in the example above, because I love looking back on the process!)

Draft 2 wc: I tend to completely retype a fic into my google docs for the second draft. Once I've done that I put the end result into my Notion doc

Finished wc: after I've reread and edited my 2nd draft, and possibly managed to have it all get a little out of hand (like you can see in that doubled word count for the finish line, lol) I put the finished word count here!

WC goal: is just a fun way to see what my initial idea was for the fic (I try to set a goal when I've got a general idea of what I want the work to look like, and always end up exceeding it)

The rest of it is just my writing, basically! Scroll down from there and you get the body for the fic :)

I hope this was somewhat helpful! I'm not a pro at Notion by any means, but if you have any questions or need some help, feel free to ask! I'm happy to try to help out!

[colorguardsweetheartblurrsgirl]

Have you guys watched The Art of Murder on Youtube??? You Need to Watch this...

Guys Go to YouTube and Watch "The Art of Murder"

It's so awesome. It's almost at 1m views (at them of writting this 957K six days after being released)

And Honestly I'm surprised no on is talking about this that I can find but I'm so calling it that Giorgio is going to be nominated a Tumblr Sexyman this year.

(I'll add a link later for the YouTube episode)

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Also for those of you wondering where I've been and why I haven't posted about STRY or any other works like UU.

I had alot of work drama going on. I hope this tart on art again soon. Actually it's thanks to work like Mid August I had this amazing idea of a outfit I just had to draw for Lenna. It was going to be a dress she wears when she goes undercover and is given to her by what I'm calling my stories "geeks" the Tech Boi's in other words.

This dress is so cool It's going to have a transformative element to it that if moving pieces of it will change the dress. (I admit I probably was influenced by my fascination since childhood with transformative pieces, reversible stuff, etc. My "Aunt" technically my Cosuin... but I called her Auntie Joanne the one who i mentioned two years ago passed ans showed the blanket was big on making me stuff that were trabsf9rmative like pillows that were jlhuge and turned into blankets (this was back in the 90s early 90s before that kind of thing that I'm aware of was really mainstream) I think she made me also reversible outfits and if you cna tell in that pic I sent the blanket was reversible too. So she may be part of the reason I had such facjnation).

Although, everytime I've sat down to write that scene something. Computer wise or electrical wise has occured so I haven't been able to write. Anyways, Coming up with this dress while driving to work one day however solved the big area of where I knew what I wanted to do with how my main character wiggles her way into this group that will lead her to other people she's looking to get to. I always knew what I wanted to do but just not how she was going to accomplish it. Or rather how too I knew had to change while remaining close to the original plan with many changes the story has gone through. But this dress ides suddenly helped me in so many ways, with giving characters I knew I needed to incorporate more in order to use them as I wished later and such.

Sorry this descriptions getting winded. But Yeah I just had so many good things occur eith the story. I've been working on it. But also work and personal matters delayed me. I won't get into it in this post. But all summer was focused on taking care of someone and later loosing them. And I also don't know how long I have with my good boy too as he's going through stuff... So working on things along with cleaning thus messy messy house that's overwhelming, taking care of my mom who caused accidentally third degree burns to herself and my dad who injured himself months ago and is only now finally seeing a doctor... it's been alot. I've been a bit overwhelmed by it all especially mostly cleaning thsu mess on my own.

If my writing seems better. I finally got a new phone. But haven't transfered everything over to it. (Having issues deleting enough on old phone to transfer stuff). So I only go on tumblr via web on this device. But yeah hopefully my writtings more readable. I haven't found though regardless of generation Samsung Galaxy in general changes my words regardless (my dad and I got the same phone it happens with him too... So I found some of that I used to complain about really as just a "safety feature" as my family calls it as a joke. Just say a built in annoying feature. But it's not as bad as the old phone which was in many ways buggy.)

Sorry this is not planned out. Just figured I'd give a update of some sort.

I do hope to post art soon. Especially planned stuff from last year. I actually brought up The Art of Murder as I might use that opening scene to make an animation animatic with a few of my main characters sometime. I really want to make some animation in general sometime. But I first need to get what they look like out there. So it may be a while.

Well thank you for reading my blabber.

I hope to see everyone again soon.

Have an Amazing day and Upcoming Thanskgiving.

[ilovejoel-andjavi]

hi everyone! this is my first post, and these are some of my fav pedro’s replies on reddit!

Fav fruit: any kinds of berries, quote on quote “I would say that my favorite fruit, I like berries. I like any kind of berry, blueberries or raspberries or blackberries or strawberries.”

fav animal: elephant, quote on quote “Elephant. I'm just completely transfixed when I see one on television or at a zoo. I find them sort of magnificent, and humorous, and intelligent, and gentle, and dangerous, and I just think that they are incredible.”

His Fav Chilean Wine: “Chile has very, very good Merlot. And I would say that, hmm, there's one called the Alma Viva, it's a Cabernet, and that's very good.”

His opinion on microwaved pizza “I have the same problem. I eat out a lot. I unfortunately don't really know how to cook for myself. I try to find good things to eat, but sadly am often on the go, and a microwaveable pizza finds its way into my situation more often than not.”

Fav sock color to wear: “I'd say the easiest socks to wear would be black socks. And the most fun socks would be some sort of, you know, odd pattern of purple, aqua and green.”

His opinion on Dogs or cats: “Well, I LOVE Dogs like there's no tomorrow. And unfortunately I have an allergy to cats, although I find them to be beautiful creatures.”

Role model: “I had a lot of different role models. My dad took me to the movies my whole life, he was a big movie buff, and me and my sister would go with him to the movies a few times a week. So I had so many heroes, like all of the major actors. I would have to say one of my favorite actors is probably Gene Hackman, but that's a really hard question to answer because I've had so many heroes that I've admired, filmmakers that i have loved, I remember seeing Steven Soderbergh's first movie when I was really young and then seeing every movie he did after that. I was a very book reading, television and movie watching geek. So it makes it endless in terms of the amount of people that I have admired.”

Fav superhero: “Sorry for not picking an ACTUAL superhero, but one of my favorite characters that was a superhero to me was Beatrix Kiddo in the Kill Bill movies, played by Uma Thurman in the Kill Bill Movies 1 & 2. For me she is one of the fiercest movie characters of all time.”

Does he like hummus? “I love hummus. I was eating hummus this morning.”

Someone asked “Prince Oberyn, what undergarments are present under your tunic?” his response on reddit was “Um, well, I've got some pants on and under that... skin.”

Someone asked “How long would you last in a zombie apocalypse? Cheers for the AmA, and I hope to see you in more stuff soon <33” He replied, “One of my favorite movies is 28 Days Later, and I used to think about this a lot after I watched that movie because I feel like it's such a terrifyingly realistic possible circumstance, that a virus would turn these people into rabid zombies, so I kind of wondered often how i would survive. I remember that I had a dog at the time, and I knew that i would have to keep her alive at all costs. I don't know exactly how well I would do, but I would probably do everything to keep myself and my friends safe. I might not last that long because I would probably sacrifice myself to save a family member or something like that. I'd like to think so anyway. I would say that so far I've been pretty lucky because my mom has good genes, and that's gotten me by, I am capable of watching more hours of television than I am doing exercise in a week, so it would really depend. I actually get out of breath really easily, so I think in a zombie apocalypse I would have to rely a bit more on my brain rather than my body.”

Fav sci-fi film: “GOOD QUESTION! OOOOH I have so many favorite science fiction films. I would say Alien and Aliens are two of my favorite scifi films. Also Children of Men would be one of my favorite science fiction films. I love the original Solaris and the remake. And even though it wasn't a film, the series Battlestar Galactica was one of my favorite TV shows.”

Fav disney film: “Even though it's associated more with Pixar, I would say Wall-E. And the Incredibles. Those are two of my favorite films of all time. And then as far as Disney, more of the classic animations, I would say my favorite Disney film is Dumbo. I like to cry, what can I say?”

Someone said, “Hi Pedro, thanks for doing this!

Just curious, Oberyn seems like a very calm and relaxed character most of the time in the show. Are you like that most days as well? If so, how do you manage to keep cool and stress free?”

he replied, “I unfortunately am not a stress-free person. I am so happy that Oberyn is coming across that way. I would love to be able to move through life with the ease with which he does. But that is not the case in my reality. I guess I relax with any opportunity to jump in the water, that is a good one, and of course i also watch a lot of TV. But I am not as cool and collected as Oberyn, unfortunately.”

Someone asked, “If you weren't an actor, what profession would you like to pursue? (Assuming skills aren't an issue!) Love your portrayal of Prince Oberyn, and I can't wait until next week's episode! <3”

he replied “If I wasn't an actor, hmm. It would be my fantasy to be a war journalist. Or teaching literature, maybe?”

part 2 soon!!

[pwblogarchive]

February 2005

February 1, 2005

im guessing you are regretting this monster you created. he gave me a prescription and said "these will take take care of your shyness". noone really gets that part though. and who ever wanted you to come out of your shell anyhow. maybe im just pretty sure that i am a total bore. and there's nothing tragic at all, this is (i'm) completely ordinary. and that's whats so tragic. it's so fucking mundane. so while we're all wasting our eyesight on these screens late into the night dying to find some connection to someone- our backs breaking from being hunched over the keyboard- im sending mail addressed to myself just so i get some. im looking in the mirror and dissecting myself, just a smile connected to a pulse, barely connected at that. this wont make any sense when i read it in the morning. i dont want to sleep alone anymore.

- petey

February 2, 2005

“lets pet puppies”

seriously though, lets pet puppies. i have one at home and i had a dream the other night that he was in desperate need of some petting. then i went to my folks and sure enough, he needed some pets. so i did. anyway, im way late on the oc trend, but im into it. ive been co-opting steeg's season 1 dvd and i must say im in love. im three discs in thanks to her. i dont have much to say about it other than its hard to stop watching. its really late right now. ive consumed half of a crumb cake, half a bag of chips with some dip, the rest of my salami, some soy milk, and some rc cola. im disapointed with the fact that ive been periodically drinking soda. it makes me feel so sick. i got an exercise bike the other day. havent used it yet. i should consider using it. it took me 2 hours to put it together. i feel like it owes me some sort of compensation. maybe a fine meal? a flick? a foot massage? who knows, its really up in the air. havent really made any purchases lately except i went grocery shopping the other day. now i have food. ive been trying not to eat out and not to buy stuff. its going somewhat swimingly. i must say that this is such an un-interesting entry. its as boring as a new yorker cartoon. its not fun like those picture searches in highlights magazine. i miss highlights. oh well. currently sleep is calling me but im trying to fight it. and now its about to overtake me. so i bid you all a farewell. if you have foreskin, clean it regularly. sanders, im talking to you.

February 4, 2005

“honeynutcheerios” 12:55am

I am gonna do a real update later. Me and patrick are sitting the cafe they shot swingers in. I keep calling patrick "baby". Joe and andy are asleep back in the midwest. I saw the initial art for the record cover today, I don't think you will expect it. I like it a lot though. look around the internet for a new song in the next month or so, it will be very very hidden.

Our friends in new found glory are in europe right now so we had to send chad an mp3 to scream on and send back, bi-continental like jayz "the blueberry still connects"... Look out for that on the record. Chad that is, not jay z.

Oh yeah is it me or do I have a total crush on "kate was like" from the messageboard. Brighteyes, weakerthans, super cute and an attitude... Swoon. Girls don't come much hotter.

Too bad I'm gay.

oh yeah and i'm trapped in l.a. and homesick. so i want to exchange intergeek valentines with you. if you send me a sweet valentine message, ill send you one back: valentinepete@hotmail.com-

be mine

Peeeeeeeter

ps im playing ghosts and gobins on oldschool nintendo and i think im gonna make a bottle of milk that tastes like after honey nut cheerios were in it- how good would it be if they sold that shit. im not making sense,

February 8, 2005

Iamthedream - Youarethedreamer

new clandestine stuff for the spring, pick it up over at www.clandestineindustries.com in the next couple of months.

February 14, 2005

Turn Up The Geek Factor

im sorry i have gotten sick. my valentines will be finished as soon as possible.

stay lovely.

peter

February 14, 2005

throwing up in the sink(ing feeling)

Hey. I'm back. Actually not really. I am in nyc. I found myself here last week trying to get better and get stuff for our record finished. Thanks for all of the kind words from everyone. Don't want to say too much right now. Keep your eyes on the site. Interesting things will be happening in the next month. Buy your tickets for the u.s. Tour now its almost all sold out. Go watch harold and maude. Clandestine has a couple of limited and exclusive items in hottopic right now. Stop by and grab some and tell them we sent you. I can't wait to see everybody.

Trouble loves me but not as much as you do I hope.

Peterpan

[spurious]

how about BTS for O I Think We Should Be Brethren

(Fic-Specific asks)

BTS: I’ll write a DVD commentary about my personal favorite passage from [that fic]

trap card ACTIVATED although i don't even know where to start tbh

O I Think We Should Be Brethren aka Live Oak #4 aka John Sheppard's Sad Gay Life Fic aka the longest thing i have ever completed and posted aka my sort of mcshep thesis

I did a little commentary post on the whole first chapter of this fic, soooooooooo I'll go with something from chapter 2. The thing about chapter two of this fic is that it’s kind of just a collection of episode tags, but I didn’t want it to be just a collection of episode tags, because that would be boring, but I also wanted to hew very closely to canon events but just shown through the lens of John’s developing feelings. What that got me was basically all the very clearly episode-related sections, along with sections where nothing much happens but we get some glimpses into John’s feelings, into their more mundane interactions. I was torn between choosing this or the very early section where John obliquely comes out to Rodney, because that was something I wrote really early on and informs a lot of Rodney’s actions through the story, but I feel like I might have more to say, in the aggregate, about this bit, which is set shortly after the events of The Shrine:

After what Rodney takes to calling his "brush with stupidity," he becomes obsessed with creating documentation for all of the small, essential (according to him) tasks he does around Atlantis.

I think it makes a certain level of sense that, despite having near-on five years of his life being in grave danger multiple times, the possible loss of his mind is what would spur Rodney into the realization that he probably needs to document some shit.

"I can't trust anyone else to know to do this," he explains, manic, when John finds him in a rarely-used lab at three in the morning. He's bent over a Frankenstein abomination of Earth and Ancient tech (and no small measure of duct tape), something he's obviously jury-rigged himself, and he's in such a state that, thankfully, he doesn't even think to ask why or how John found him there at this hour. "What the hell is it, Rodney?" John tilts his head, stepping in closer—it probably won't explode in his face, he figures.

Why John found him there: because he knows Rodney's driving himself nuts trying to document a million tiny things and hasn't been sleeping. How John found him there: life signs detector and several years' practice studying the Wandering Habits of the Wild McKay

"You know that old joke that the entirety of modern digital infrastructure is all leaning on some free, open-source project being thanklessly maintained by a random guy in a basement somewhere, and the whole of the internet and probably the world's banking systems will break when he either gives it up or dies?" Rodney says, hitting somewhere close to a personal best on words-per-minute and not even stopping for John's answer. "No, wait, of course you don't, you're not a geek."

I stole that joke from XKCD but it just came into my mind and I would imagine Rodney spitting the whole thing out in one uninterrupted breath. (anyway i did link it in the endnotes so)

John scowls. "Hey!" "Fine," Rodney acquiesces, "you're not that kind of geek." And that, John can agree to. He'll match Rodney on comics and sci-fi trivia and mental math, but he's never gotten too into computers that aren't on board something that can go very fast.

John being offended that after all these years Rodney still thinks he's a jock is just, cute to me alright. He's a geek, he likes geek stuff, he's just also hot and has generic man interests as well!! I like the bit about computers that aren't on board something that can go very fast, though, that feels...correct to me.

"So this is Atlantis's free, open-source project and you're the basement-dweller who thanklessly maintains it?" "Exactly," Rodney answers, apparently too wrapped up in the work to notice John's lovingly-crafted insult.

All of John's insults are lovingly crafted.

"And you're writing documentation for it?" John pulls out a chair, sprawling lazily so he can get a look at what's on Rodney's screen. He's got a laptop open with a dense-looking brick of text he's typing additions to, and a tablet with what looks like a hand-drawn schematic pulled up on it. "Oh, well-spotted, Colonel Obvious," Rodney says drily, rolling his eyes. "I doubt anyone will really understand what it does, but Zelenka's a competent enough engineer to at least be able to follow a manual." "Right," John says, and then he sits, watching Rodney type, poke at the device, curse, and type some more. About five minutes go by before he speaks again. "You could also consider just staying alive so you can keep fixing it?"

John, five years in, having watched as Rodney slowly lost everything that makes him him, is a bit weak. That's really the only explanation for why he just says the quiet part out loud, here, even though he's trying to make it sound like a joke. I like this scene because it feels right to have them have this kind of conversation, this kind of bare, quiet intimacy, while the rest of the city is asleep, cocooned together in a lab with Rodney's tech all around them.

"Well, yes, obviously that's what I would prefer as well," Rodney says peevishly, the clacking of the keyboard turning a shade violent as the pitch of his voice rises. "But apparently this galaxy has other plans for me, and it was honestly foolish of me to have gone this long without coming to terms with the fact that I could die at any moment without anyone able to continue my work, so—" John doesn't think, his hand shooting out to grab Rodney's as it flails through the air in a helpless, fatalistic gesture. Rodney stops, mouth half-open, and just stares at John's hand, wrapped around his wrist, fingers curled against Rodney's palm. They're frozen like that, both staring at their hands, until Rodney says, voice quiet, "John?"

I love this part, this image right here. John not knowing what to do and just wanting to make Rodney stop and breathe for a second. Rodney absolutely stymied by the sudden physical contact, the nearness to hand-holding, enough that he uses John's given name. Rodney's actually going through a lot, emotionally, during this fic, that all becomes eventually clear in chapter 3, and this is definitely one of the sections I wrote with all of that very much at the forefront of my mind.

John squeezes Rodney's hand, just once, and looks at his face. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Rodney." And it's a promise John knows he can't keep, but it's also the only thing he can think to say, because he desperately wants it to be true, to be something he can say with certainty. Rodney, of course, is a man of science, and he understands reality, understands probability. "You can't promise—" John squeezes again, feels out the broad thickness of Rodney's palm. "I've done it up till now, haven't I?"

This scene has echoes of their beer on the pier, where Rodney tries to say goodbye and John just won't, legitimately refuses to, like, engage with reality? Because on some level I think John actually does believe that he can protect Rodney, can keep him safe from harm; he knows he'll give his life for that to be the truth, and he hopes, deep down, even though he's tried very very hard to extinguish that very hope, that his love, his devotion, will be enough.

Rodney's eyebrows knit together, his gaze darting around, and then he nods, quick and final. "Yes, I suppose you have."

Rodney may not know the true depth of John's feelings, but he believes this, too. Believes in John, in a way I don't think he believes in many things.

Love and honor, protect and cherish. Till death. It may not be vows, but it feels like them, to John.

Here's the wedding vows motif making an appearance again. John, fatalistic, eyes wide open, pledging and devoting his life to Rodney even though he doesn't think it'll ever be reciprocated, because he can't do anything else. Can't do anything less. He tries, several times, throughout this story, to pull away and put some distance between himself and Rodney, and every single time it ends up failing, for one reason or another. He's drawn back into Rodney's orbit, inexorably, but he's also so wrapped up in his own inwardly-directed misery that he doesn't realize Rodney's drawn to him right back.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, standing up and using their joined hands to pull Rodney up with him. Their hands slide apart, and John steps back, puts some distance between them. "Now come on, that big brain of yours needs some sleep."

Literally right here he's putting physical distance, after saying what, to John, amount to wedding vows. It's too much, too open, and he needs to get them back to an equilibrium because it feels dangerous to let that moment sit between them for too long.

"Yeah, alright," Rodney says, gathering up the laptop and tablet before he follows John out the door.

god. okay. i gave myself a lot of feelings writing all this out!!!!!!!!!!! i love this story so much, i think it's probably the best thing i've ever written, and.....idk i'm happy to talk about it forever and ever so thank you for asking???????????????????????? seriously.