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#but I still want the CHOICE to donate my heart or not. I would choose it pretty much no matter what but the CHOICE is what matters
cupcake-complains · 1 year
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I constantly forget that Kentucky is a state. It sounds made up. Literally the only thing they’ve ever contributed is their fried chicken and you know what. Since Hawaiian pizza isn’t from Hawaii, KFC might not even be from Kentucky. Who knows. Google and Wikipedia could be lying.
(Also check out the tags for a cool, slightly profanity-filled essay (read: rant) on abortion)
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dornish-queen · 1 year
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It's that time of year again. For this years card, I wish to thank @88dragon06 for her generous donation and funding for the Pedro Greeting Card Project this year. It would not have been possible this year without her help, so thank you from the bottom of my heart!❤️🙏🏻❤️🙏🏻
As with all Greeting Card Projects, the card will remain a secret until people have received their cards in the mail.  If people choose to post their cards online, that is their choice to do so.  But I will not post any pics of the Holiday card until I know everyone has received theirs in the mail.
Here are previous greeting card projects:
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Here are some general questions regarding the greeting card mailing list:
General Information
New spots become available at the beginning of new greeting card projects. Availability will depend on funding for these projects.
How do I get on the mailing list?
If you have already received a greeting card from me, you are automatically on the Mailing List and will continue to receive a card from me for any future greeting card projects I decide to do, unless you wish to be removed or I choose to remove you.  If you have moved and would like to still receive a card, please DM me with your new mailing address. If you would like to be removed from the list, please DM me and let me know. I will make that space available for anyone else that wants it.
If you are NEW to the mailing list, just DM me with your name and mailing address to get on the mailing list. That’s it. All information will remain private and used for greeting card purposes only.
Do I have to pay for the card?
No, you don’t have to pay for anything.  This is a project of kindness and the goal is to spread a little bit of joy. The cost of the card and postage will be covered by me. Funding for these cards are from me and any generous donations I get from people who wish to contribute. Since the number of people on the mailing list increases with every greeting card project, the cost for each card project increases quite a bit. (one greeting card projects costs a minimun of $250)  Any donation to help continue to mail out Pedro cards in the future is greatly appreciated.  To make a donation you can contribute via Ko-fi HERE.
PRIVACY
Not everyone is comfortable with sharing their mailing address. That is completely fine.  All mailing addresses are used for the sole purpose of mailing greeting cards only and REMAIN CONFIDENTIAL.
Please message me if you have any questions.
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aena-blue · 2 months
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Manifestation - The Train Analogy (Bridge of Incidents & Wavering/Doubting)
Hello everyone! This is another short post to cover a simple topic under the umbrella term manifestation to hopefully shed some light on the topic.
Today I will be sharing with you an analogy regarding the bridge of incidents (BOI) which also covers when you are wavering & doubting. This analogy came to me during a meditation today and I found it to be helpful so I thought I would share!
During a meditation today my higher self, or higher consciousness, however you want to think of it, spoke to me and told me that when I have a desire, the desire becomes my destination. To reach my destination, the Universe puts me on the fastest train possible there.
What this train is, depends on your self concept, what you believe is possible, and what you believe is possible for yourself to achieve and experience. If you have little to no resistance towards your desire, the Universe sticks your ass onto a bullet train (super fast trains in Japan if you haven't heard of them!).
Now, when you are wavering and doubting the outcome of your desire, this is like a stop along the way to your destination. When you doubt, you get off at a station that is before the end of your destination. Standing on this platform, you now have a choice. You can remain here and choose to not continue on your journey to your desired outcome, or, you can get your ass back on the train. The choice is yours.
Sometimes you may stop for a while on this platform because you recognise that your ass was on a slow moving train from the 1800s. So maybe you pause for a bit, and work on your self concept. You clear out the blockages and resistances that is slowing you down. (Note that I said slow you down, but not stopped!). Now that you are ready, your new train rolls into the station and it is a much quicker one!
Sometimes, doubt only lasts for a little while, and you are able to get back onto the train towards your destination quickly.
The beautiful thing about this analogy is that it shows your wavering and doubt as simply temporary stops along the way, you always have the ability to get back onto the train and reach your final destination, your desired outcome.
The train, even if slow, will still move towards it. Anything you desire, you can have. The only thing slowing your down is your own beliefs about the possibility of you having it. Erase your fears, worry and doubts through self concept work, and things will move much faster. And even if you still doubt from time to time, you can always get your ass right back on that bullet train towards your desire. So just lean back, relax, and keep your mind focused on the end, on your destination, the Universe will take you there in the fastest possible way.
I hope that this was helpful! :)
I now offer email coaching on my Etsy Shop: https://aenabluetarot.etsy.com/ for anyone who needs help, assistance, guidance or just a cheerleader for their manifestation journey.
You can email me or use the “ask me” function for anything that might be on your mind, or on your heart. I am here for you all, always. Please note that the Ask Me’s are only open for dream interpretation, general questions or advice at this time.
Please consider supporting my intention & affirmation art business in return for my time and energy by making a purchase or sharing my shop on any of your social media, every page click helps my business grow and I appreciate all of your support.
You can get a sticker for about $2 and if you make a purchase and send me an email to let me know what you bought I will happily give you a free 3 card reading for a question of your choice or 1 free email for manifestation coaching, regardless of the cost of your purchase! 🧡
If you'd like to donate to my channel/blog I gratefully receive energy donations via Paypal, every little helps! 🧡
For anyone that feels so inclined I do have an Etsy Shop for tarot readings.
Much love and light to you all and to the universe 💛💜
~ Lady Blue 💙
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matan4il · 1 year
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You seem pretty rational so I’ve to ask you something that I really can’t understand. How do you think bring a real baby in the donor sl will help buck grow? For me it makes 0 sense, he could have reached of growth backing off before the donation, saying that he changed his mind. From this what he’s going to learn? That a donor is not a dad? He already knows this. That he shouldn’t cling to people? Wasn’t this the bt breakup point? Please can you help me to understand?
Hi Nonnie! Thank you for the kind words! *hugs*
*sighs* Honestly, this isn't a story I would choose for Buck. In 518 he finally got to choose himself, to put himself first and think about what he needs and wants, not the other person. He realized he doesn't want Taylor, and in 601 he made the choice to understand that it's okay not to be in a r/s at the moment, until he's ready for it. But he's left with the question of what he does want, right? So we should have seen him exploring that in 6a IMO.
And then literally in 604 he said he was still trying to figure out what he wants. The fact that he doesn't know yet at that moment is EXACTLY why he should have said NO to Connor and Kameron (on top of the fact that he's all heart and I don't believe he can walk away from a kid he knows he helped bring into the world). Because having a bio kid IS A LIFE LONG COMMITMENT. Yes, even if you realize you're a donor, not a dad, and do back away. Because the second you have a bio kid out there somewhere, something can always change at any point. You might be needed to help with some medical stuff as a bio match, they might get to the point where they can come looking for you (like Denny went looking for his bio dad in 609), and when the non-bio dad is a friend, there's even a greater likelihood that from time to time, you will hear stuff and see stuff, and you have to know that you're okay with walking away not just now, but in all of the years to come. And I wanna applaud people who do that! That's not easy! But in order to do that, you have to be IMO in a place in your life where you know who you are, what you have, what you don't, what you do and don't want to have. And that's not Buck right now. So why did he say yes?
Because once again, he put someone else's needs ahead of his own. It just feels like Buck's story took one step forward and two steps back. And I wish they wouldn't have done it like that, but I'm guessing that this is the direction they wanna explore: Who is Buck, what makes him happy, what does he want, and how can he put his own needs first, in AND outside romantic relationships? 'Coz clearly his issues are bigger than just settling for any person who will have him as a romantic partner, it's the issue that he really seems to not see his self worth if he's not giving it all for others. We've seen it in the way he talks about being a firefighter, too. So hopefully, that's the resolution they're gonna give him, to see that he's worthwhile even if he doesn't go above and beyond for what others need. And as a Buddie shipper, I of course also hope this leads him to a romantic partnership with Eddie that will be steadier because they’ve worked on a lot of their issues before getting together.
Does this make sense? Do let me know and have a great day! As always, here's my ask tag. xoxox
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heartofether · 2 years
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In Regards to The Heart of Ether
Hi folks, Val here, speaking personally. There is no good way to apologize for me disappearing off of the face of the earth for a few months; I am deeply sorry regardless, and want to do what I can to make up for lost time.
The Heart of Ether is being canceled indefinitely.
This was not an easy choice—far from it. This show has been my pride and joy, my love, and the team behind it has felt like a family to me. After going through a mental health crisis and being hospitalized, however, I realize I am not in a position to be making executive orders for a large-scale series with an ensemble cast and multiple seasons. It is both unhealthy for me, and unfair to those who support me.
For anyone who donated money to the show in any form, whether a monthly Patreon or a tip on our Ko-fi, I personally am willing to refund you. Please email me at [email protected] or DM this account, and we will work out how to get you your money back (I have been able to keep track of who donated and how much, so if you don’t remember how much you gave, I can tell you). If I do not hear from you or you choose not to seek a refund, all of that money will be divided among the cast and crew depending on the volume of their work—I won’t receive any of it. If any money needs to come out of my own pocket to make sure everyone wronged is accommodated, I am more than willing.
To the cast and crew, and anyone else who has helped with the show, thank you. This production has led me to some of the most talented and incredible people I have ever met. This community is driven and thoughtful like no other, and I cannot be more thankful. The same goes to anyone who has supported the show and my work. The fandom around The Heart of Ether brought me more joy than anything. People like you are the reason I make art, and the support this show received genuinely blew me away during its time.
I will still be writing podcasts and working on audio dramas moving forward. However, it will not be under the Three-Eyed Frog domain, and will be shorter series/projects as I try to prioritize school & work. I would love to bring back The Heart of Ether and its characters someday, so don’t consider this Daughtler’s last goodbye. These characters quite literally feel like my children at this point, and I don’t want to give them up just yet. I simply need time to recover and focus my sights on other things before I return to it—and to be frank, I have absolutely no timeline for that yet, so I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.
For now, I highly encourage you to seek out and support the works of everyone on this cast & crew. They’re all highly driven and talented people who deserve the best moving forward, and I hope to still work with many of them on future projects. If anyone involved with HoE would like to use this post to promo, then please, feel free.
Again, I cannot thank you enough for how supportive and encouraging this community has been. I have high hopes for the future. <3
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Timey’s Great Big Pinned Post of Everything
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[   she/her | writer/artist | 28 | IGN (NA) Timey.6853  ]
just another friendly local aro-ace salad enthusiast
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Hi yes hello, welcome to Timey’s Guild Wars 2 blog where I post about Guild Wars 2 and basically nothing else. Expect a lot of salads, a lot of Living World 1, and especially a lot of Scarlet Briar. Sometimes I draw or write things, too. Mostly I just yell my meta commentary of questionable sanity into the void, though. Y’know how it is. Scarlet stole my last remaining brain cell and adamantly refuses to give it back.
I’m always happy to chatter with folks! Feel free to drop by anytime; I can be a little slow to respond at times, but I really love exchanging theories and ideas and hearing about obscure or interesting details people have found! Give me ALL of the lore. Tell me about your favorite characters. Ramble about OCs. For real, I love to hear all the things okay; don’t worry about being mutuals, either!
DISCLAIMER: This isn’t a place for bigotry, drama, or rudeness though; nobody’s got time for that. Play nice and be respectful, that’s all I ask.
With that out of the way, I’ll include some helpful navigation links and summaries of my various AU projects below the cut! Feel free to take a peek if you want. I’ll gradually add more stuff over time, too.
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The Handy Dandy List of Links
My Posts
Reblogs
My Art
My Fics
Regrowth AU
Portabella Pirkko - Tag
Harbinger Saoirse - Tag
“Lost But Not Forgotten”
“A Garden of Memories”
Flourish AU
Ceara the Defiant - Tag
Tideturners AU
The Sidewinder - Page | Tag
Grand High Sovereign Ruju - Tag
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Timey’s AU Collection, in Summary
Regrowth AU: What Would You Do For a Second Chance?
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Even Elder Dragons have limits. And as it happens, a being whose power relies on life has no hold on the realm of the dead. In the Domain of the Lost, a spirit awakens for the first time in many years. For a time, she spends her penance leading those that her actions sent to their graves too early-- but that would never be enough to satisfy Scarlet Briar. It’s too slow. Too tedious... Too boring. And she isn’t prepared to spend all of eternity tending to spirits who hate her for choices she never would have made of her own volition.
So when a stranger reaches through the Mists seeking her guidance and her power in a new alliance, Scarlet accepts-- and finds her spirit anchored to a rather unconventional ex-mordrem revenant. But the world has changed a great deal in her absence, and thanks to their new goal... It’s about to change a whole lot more. They’re both going to make quite sure of that.
Tyria isn’t the only thing that’s going to change, though. Ceara hasn’t been herself in a long, long time... And now, without the dragon’s influence crushing her sense of self, she’s finally free to rediscover the person she should have been. Maybe there’s still time to reclaim her legacy after all.
If she can avoid almost destroying the world (again), that is...
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Flourish AU: What If One Choice Could Change the World?
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Sometimes all it takes is a few words in the right place at the right time... A moment of solidarity that by all rights, never should have happened. But the Dream works in mysterious ways, and as echoes rippled across the Mists from distant worlds, it learned of a different future and an unexpected outcome. All it took was a single, subtle nudge to set the ball rolling, and so it did.
On that fateful day in the Grove, Caithe never would have thought to ask the inquisitive sylvari what she was working on. But, just this once, the Dream did.
Curiosity was repaid in kind. A repaired healing device was left in the infirmary, its Secondborn donator unspoken but well-known. Beginning to recognize the value of Ceara’s peculiar research, others began to quietly peek at the budding scientist as she worked. And while she might never have been a social butterfly, the acceptance warmed her heart of ice into something far softer. She didn’t have to choose between her dream and the Dream. And even if she left the Grove far behind... Perhaps she didn’t have to cut it off entirely.
And that was all she’d ever truly needed; the opportunity of choice.
Ceara never left the Dream, not entirely. She listened to its advice, following when it suited her and forging a unique path all her own. She became not an engineer, but a thief, following in the footsteps of her new mentor. When Saoirse needed her advice, she was still in the Grove to provide it. The world changed, slowly but surely, one altered life at a time.
The Dream’s grand design came to pass. Three champions would rise like stars, facing the dragons together. Heart, Mind, and Soul... Pirkko, Ceara, and Saoirse, from the Priory, Whispers, and Vigil. A bold new future awaited-- a future where the horrors of Scarlet’s Alliance would never be known, for there had never even been a Scarlet Briar to lead it.
But the greater their success, the lusher their world...
And the higher the flames would burn when it all ignited.
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Tideturners AU: What Happens When There is No Hero?
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Mai Trin wasn’t born to be a hero. That was supposed to be Ruju’s job. He was the one who would become the Commander, leading unlikely alliances to victory time and time again to save his world from the draconic plight. He was strong, and relentless, and brave, and intelligent. He was always meant to be a leader.
But his heart was just as cold and dead as the biomechanical minions he commanded in battle, and the future he would create was not a kind one.
He was invited aboard Scarlet’s Alliance, but this would prove a deadly error; Commander Ruju made no differentiation between a willing dragon minion and a rebelling one. Scarlet Briar was claimed by his blade in the dead of night, and the rest were left with a brutal choice: fall in line, or share her fate. Mai, realizing this was no longer the alliance she had once believed in, took her Aetherblades and fled into the Mists.
But the Grand High Sovereign’s rampage did not end. He blazed a devastating trail of bloodshed across the Tyrian continent, wiping away all that dared stand in his path. With every fallen foe, his army only continued to grow. Dragons were crushed by brute force, and magic poured into the increasingly unstable fabric of reality. With every passing day there was less left to save.
Mai Trin wasn’t born to be a hero. She never would have chosen that role for herself-- and whether that was what she became would be debated by many. But she was meant to be a leader, and if Ruju would not be the one her Tyria needed, she was the only one left who could. Alliances were forged, civilians were evacuated, and a mask was donned; she was no longer Mai Trin. She was the Sidewinder, and their hidden Turnabout deep in the Mists would offer a second chance to those who had nowhere else left to go. As the years passed, it became the stuff of legend, a tale of hope and renewal even in the face of impossible odds.
Their world is long-gone now, nothing but haunted memories in the minds of those precious few who escaped alive. But the Tideturners remain, one last refuge against a Commander who decided the world wasn’t worth saving. He won’t save them, so they’ll save themselves instead.
“We're the Tideturners, and we won’t be washed away.”
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Game 257 - LongStory by Bloom Digital Media
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I picked up this game through the itch.io Indie Bundle for Palestinian Aid. I chose to donate 10 dollars, and I found about 60 games in the bundle that I was actually interested in (and that I didn’t have from previous bundles.) So, the consideration for this game will be if it was worth the 17 cents (rounded up) that I paid for it and the hours that I played it for. The bundle has since ended, but I still encourage you to make a donation to the organizations listed here.
What did I think it was at first? I think I actually played this on mobile when it first came out? There was only one episode out then so I’m curious to see what it’s like now.
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How was the character creator? It’s pretty neat! You can pick between two nebulously gendered protagonists and choose your name and pronouns. I wish you could choose your appearance in a little more detail?
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How was the game? It honestly felt a lot like a middle grade novel. The game is a slice of life game where you navigate your 8th grade year with tons of zany drama. There’s dating, a mystery, friend fights, and your meddling protagonist is at the heart of it. You make choices and talk to others in order to develop relationships.
The game touches on several serious topics like homophobia, transphobia, school violence, learning disabilities, open relationships, and bullying. It’s tricky to do this and balance key ideas like a character who refuses to remove a mascot costume. Your choices do affect the story in some ways, but at times I found myself wishing to have less “dramatic” choices.
The cast is diverse and includes quite a few interesting characters. I followed the romance path with Abby and enjoyed it, even though there were lots of fights and our relationship was affected by middle school dramatics. You have the option to declare crushes on other people, and by the end of the game you’re able to declare an open relationship as 9th graders. It’s an interesting choice to be sure.
The graphics are OK but some characters look much more detailed than others, especially as the game continues on. The soundtrack was OK but songs were frequently reused and it became annoying at times. There are a few original songs but I found them kind of cringy honestly?
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What did I not love? I think the game had a hard time finding it’s audience. It covers all of those tough subjects, but it’s also written to be appealing to middle schoolers? There’s some coarse language at the start but it fades out by the end of the game. I don’t know that I would want this game to be my kid’s first experience with open relationships or non-binary people because of how the game skims over those topics without a ton of discussion, however, as an adult I found it pretty juvenile. I did really like how the game handled helping a classmate with a learning disability, but the other topics seemed to be kind of thrown in there.
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At 3 hours and 17 cents, was it really worth it? There are lots of dating sim games or slice of life games out there - I honestly didn’t really love it? I think there are better games in this genre but there are worse ones too. LongStory fell in the middle of the pack to me.
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goshawk · 2 years
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I'm the lukewarm take anon and I see where you're coming from but what I understood is you're explaining how the characters had reasons and felt justified in their actions, which. Most people have reasons for doing things, even completely horrendous shit. Doesnt make it right though. Especially since dean sam and cas supposedly have a responsibility to protect, and knowledge about things that affect billions of people. So they should at least try to be rational and look past their own personal life when they're making big decisions, right?
I'm not saying they like have a duty to sacrifice themselves and each other or some such bullshit, but there have definitely been a bunch of times where a workaround was possible if they thought for more than 2 seconds but they still went with the absolute weirdest route (this is probably the writers fault, but these decisions end up part of their character/personalities anyway). plus yea that's an example of what I'm talking about: we chop dean's cringey misogynistic attitude even though it's part of his character. also
- all of them jump the gun and kill monsters who arent shit people on more than one occaison.
- There's an episode where dean literally aims a gun at this kid who is Indigenous I think and threatens her into using her dreamwalking for them. ?????? and sam just goes along with it
- also....... didn't castiel's god phase include absorbing everyone in purgatory and killing a crap ton of humans and angels........... ?
there's probably more but i don't remember specifics. btw this is all very much light hearted and not serious, just in case my tone comes across as rude or mean. sorry for that - and the essay
cont. i'm in covid isolation send me your hot takes
no hard feelings lukewarm anon, im down for some light quibbling! this is really fun to think about
i feel like with this and other superhero-esque shows it's always a rehash of personal vs practical. like yes if we had institutions to monster hunt we could expect them to be more utilitarian and be rational but we have what amounts to three very flawed guys making it up. ideally they would calculate the cost benefit each time and make the right choice, but they have imperfect information and character flaws. i think it'd be a pretty boring show if they were ideal about big decisions. i think on a smaller scale it's like the trolley problem variant where the one person is your best friend/mom/partner/etc vs X number of people. it depends on the value of X - two and it might be okay, a million and it's quite morally dubious. dean's X leans more towards a million, sam's less, and cas' i've got no fucking clue. more on this and the souls later.
tldr, it's a given that plotlines in media of this genre can often be resolved better if the characters spend a little more time thinking or think a little more rationally. the idea of any monster == bad and gungho killing them == good when the show has repeatedly challenged this notion is a really good example of this. salmondean know that there are ways to let vampires live off of animals/blood donations rather than preying on humans, but salmondean choose to kill them anyways.
on that topic, i'd love to take a comparison of madison (sam's werewolf gf, sam kill), amy pond (sam's kitsune friend, dean kill) and emma winchester (dean's daughter, sam kill) when i have more mental space. i think they're comparable if we take a closer scan
honestly, i have to engage with this show with a filter over the bad character choices. there's deeply racist, misogynistic, and homophobic shit in here that i won't attempt to excuse. idt there's much more for me to say there ✌️
i think the dreamwalking thing is a kaia plotline? i dont want to say much about it since i'm really not familiar with what happens. gonna watch before i develop a fledged opinion but yeah that's pretty fuckin bad
at a surface level i don't really mind that cas was targeting the KKK/religious extremists and i think it's hilarious. my actual thoughts are that it's really fucked up and akin to an institutionally operated death penalty once someone consolidates all that power. i think cas' actions are morally reprehensible there but again like. i think he's got a legal insanity defense there. the purgatory souls calculation is a really complex thing that i'm not really sure how to scale yet. i don't think its fair to judge cas for his leviathan tainted thinking processes though.
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hualian-blessing · 3 years
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why mcyttwt does not think some (if not most) of the time when it comes to mcc
if i post this in twitter, i’d surely get hated upon but someones gotta have to say this one day. also this does not target to mcytblr!!! this rant is more of towards mcyttwt!!!
remember how mcyt was so chill before all of this shit? how we would watch our favorite minecraters when the community was so small? or how mcc was an event that both ccs and fans can have some fun and entertainment once per month? and that was only last year too. now look at the new generation of mcyt fans and see why some of the old fans dont really associate the new ones.
as a fan of the old gen mcytbers like DanTDM, SkyDoesMinecraft, Aphmau and CaptainSparklez. heck im a fan of pewds’ minecraft series before dream or tommy or ranboo or the new gen of mcyt ccs blew up (a year before them if im correct), and we dont see drama or bad shit all the time when it comes to their content.
now compare that to the new gen where every single fucking day, a bored fan or anti would post shit drama in twitter where some of the people from twitter moved to tumblr just to not get a headache from the batshit craziness mcyttwt brought forth. and it just snapped more when the mccp21 rolled in.
heres some of my takes about the mccp21 issue:
1) “there’s a lack of representation of lgbtq+ in the teams!!!”
heres something to tell yall about that. scott doesnt have a fucking choice. scott smajor has told time and time again, WEEKS before the announcement of teams, that there are certain requirements and limitations to mccp21 thus there will be difficulty in choosing whos entering or whos not. limitations and requirements such as it will be streamed on youtube or how streamers with twitch contracts aren’t allowed to stream or (god bless scott’s good heart) scott not allowing some of the lgbtq+ streamers in joining the special event due to wanting them to have a chance to stream and experience their first mcc (so to those who said that ranboo should have been in mccp21, shut up ‘cuz scott wanted genderman to have fun streaming his first mcc but cant due to ranboo being a well-known twitch streamer). to those who complained that ant and velvet should be in the mcc, stop being selfish and do some actual research on why scott didn’t include them. a simple question to those two’s fans would answer that they can’t make it due to them camping for a week which within those days is the mccp21. they’re having time to themselves, not wasting it on a minecraft championship. 
take in the consideration that, oh i dont know, not a lot of lgbtq+ ccs applied to the event? its not a free invite championship (in fact, mcc has always been like that), it’s an applied with the sufficient and correct requirements kind of event. the artist who created the icons from the previous mcc for the teams said that scott let in some of the new ccs in last minutes due to lack of applicants not meeting the requirements thus not having custom artworks for the teams if they want to announce the teams in time.
2.) “there’s no lesbians or trans in the teams >:(((”
sadly enough, there’s not much of the players from the lgbtq+ community but to say there’s no trans people in mccp21 is utterly false. by definition, trans mean  denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex. other genders such as non-binary, genderfluid, androgyne, bigender, gender expansive all fall under trans. you define yourself with the gender you personally chose and comfy with from you birth gender. so saying there’s no trans in the teams when there are players from the event like eret or sqaishey who are nb and genderfluid respectively are there to also represent not only the sexuality but also the gender identity of others??? like c’mon, please make sense mcyttwt. 
also, while its sad to not see lesbians, please know that lgbtq+ doesn’t strictly be defined by lesbians. ffs, lgbtq+ literally means Lesbians Gays Bisexuals Transgenders and Questioning (or Queer but im not too sure about that one) which means that there are still other representatives for the community in the event.
3) “technoblade is in the event?!!! WHAT THE FUCK, HES A HOMOPHOBE/LESBIPHOBE-”
utter clowns, toxic twitter users are. do you really think that scott smajor, an openly gay man, would let a supposed “homophobe/lesbiphobe” in an event that focuses in supporting the lgbtq+ community? do you hear yourself? do you even do research where the joke he made was when he was the same age as me and it was based on a historical article back in WW2? or how he passionately supports the community especially the lesbians because a lesbian couple complimented him to which kickstart his confidence? the man willingly went to this mcc event despite being flamed a lot in twitter because he (and everyone) knows that his chat, his fans and supporters, are literal millionaires. if you saw a stream from foolish where he auctioned canonical characters for funs, a techno fan donated thousand of dollars to get technoblade, and that’s only one fan, now imagine a hundreds of thousands of them.
like it or not, technoblade has always been open about his support to the community, especially that majority of his fanbase are from the same community that mcyttwt allegedly swore that technoblade hates.
4) “since this mccp21 is pointless because theres no dteam, quackity, punz or (insert cc name), let’s have a watch party of the previous mccs to spite mccp21!!!” “let’s hope (insert cc name) stream on the 26th so mccp21 doesnt have the same amount of viewership like before!!!” “where are (insert cc name)??? gosh, this mcc is so boring without them!!!”
shut up shut up shut up shut up shut the actual fuck up. are you really seriously hearing yourself? are you willing and proudly boycotting a once in a year special event that is seriously needed by the lgbtq+ community? are you that cruel and selfish to sacrifice a project that helped tons of people just for your sick entertainment and desires? are you that evil to stop others from enjoying and donating to the trevor project? are you that inconsiderate of other ccs that aren’t part of dsmp and calling them boring? and for what? because your favorite cishet streamer isn’t there? oh booofuckinghoo! you’re so fucking petty to even post about this kind of tweets in public.
(edit: did yall honestly thought that without your favorite streamers that the mcc is not worth watching because they aren't there? well let me tell you, im a ranboo fan. ive watched him when he first entered the dsmp and watched him spinning in his unicorn chair for 5 minutes. the boo community waited for so many months for genderman to join mcc yet we didn't even do that kind of disgusting action and behavior every time he isn't in mcc. 8 months. that's how long ive watched him. ive waited 8 months for him to be in the event yet i still watch other povs like tommy's, puffy's, wilbur's, and etc., because it's fun and entertaining to watch them despite the beloved not participating in the games.
if you're that spoiled to not even watch mcc because (insert cc whose not part of mccp21 name here) isn't part of the roster then you most likely have a one dimensional humor because there will always be someone more funny and entertaining than them. i like dsmp don't get me wrong, but i found parrot's school smp funnier than dsmp yet you don't see me insulting both series, do you? learn to keep yourself if you're calling ccs as boring or dull or not entertaining enough due to not having the same big platform as the dsmp members.)
you don’t deserve to call yourself a fan if you’re doing this kinds of actions. in fact, people like you should be kicked out from the mcyt community because your kind of people are the reason why we look so bad from the outside. your toxic and self-entitled to these content creators are the reason why famous ccs like sbi, purpled, tubbo and almost ranboo left twitter/implied strict rules to their subtwts. you drove out an entire friend group that tons of fans found comfort in from the platform and you still have the audacity to this kind of shit? honestly, just leave before you give me a headache.
what im sayin’ is that mcyttwt is one of the worst, if not THE worst, subtwts out of the other subtwts in twitter. having no actual research or evidences or spreading false information is common in twitter where you would have to take what they said with a micro size grain of salt. mcyttwt already ruined the fun and spirit of mcc during its comeback in mcc14 due to the glitch and beta testing shit (ey i still stand for the ranboo beta testing but i know that will be worthless since theres hints of him joining soon in mcc15). if you’re still in mcyttwt, i suggest to get out of there while you still can. we’ll never know if there’s a bigger shitstorm than this in the mcyttwt that may happen in the future.
edit! hi bella again, ive been told by a polite and cool user that not all people from mcyttwt are toxic and/or cruel. im going to clear something up here. ive written this during the heat of the announcement of mccp21 teams. so there's a lot of complains and/or entitled people in the app (you can even see it in my previous post too if you want evidences!) that gave off mostly negative vibes towards the event.
ive seen the cool ones who actually took the consideration for scott's side and the criticism of the lack of representation of other communities within the lgbtq+ umbrella (ive even share some parts of it above so im also a bit upset to the lack of numbers in the community). and some of them are correct about recruiting lgbtq+ creators in youtube but! like i said, it's an applied event and not invitational one, so its up to that content creator if they want to join or not. the amount of cishet in the roster are just those who want to support the cause and/or backups/stand-ins in case scott and noxcrew can't find enough ccs in time!
just wanna clear this up because mcyttwt these days are covered by really cringe fans (ive noticed a pattern of them mostly new ones but there are still awesome new fans (like my irl friend who just joined this year) within the community) that covered the good ones where they enjoy, have fun and share some neat ideas and thoughts to the community within the platform!
when i said to get out of the mcyttwt while you still can, i meant to get out of there to avoid drama (that is really small contrast those who really need to address the issue) and take a break from it. it's still your choice if you want to be surround by it or not or if you want to come back to the app. all im saying is to buckle up for the shitstorm cuz this is not the last time that the twitter side of mcyt will cause negativity to the community.
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Deception [Benedict Bridgerton x Reader]
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Title: Deception Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Female!Reader Word count: 4.5k Published: 21 March 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: Violet's constant search for a wife for her second eldest son has become too much for Benedict. The only escape he sees is to ask you to pretend to be courting each other. But how long will it work for with your feelings eating you up from the inside. Bingo: [x] This is part of my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes​​​
Square filled: Fake dating
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Benedict Bridgerton was a very capable man. He had a tremendous amount of talent in capturing the real beauty of the world in his drawings. He was confident, but still genuinely kind and caring for his loved ones. He also had a rather playful side to him, a somewhat child-like behaviour, one that the ton would not have appreciated in their society, but Benedict had the privilege to show his real personality to those who loved him, ones that never judged him for who he was.
However, there was one person he felt utterly useless around. When it came to you, he turned into an adorable mess, a clumsy one at that, even stuttering on occasions. Should you have known the reason for his unusual behaviour, it would have brought a rather large smile to your face, but Benedict dared not to reveal his feelings for you.
For someone who has been friends for so long, you both seemed to have found it hard to show your true feelings for one another, as though both of you were clueless. For Benedict it seemed you only spared as much attention to him as a friend would, whilst you thought he was merely looking out for you as a brother figure.
You sat in the ballroom, watching as he grimaced at his mother, who might have slightly forced her second oldest child to dance with one of the many stunning unwed ladies. The one he was forced to dance with however seemed to enjoy Benedict's company. He didn't talk, nor did he look at the woman, still she shined brighter than a diamond in his arms, proud to be so close to such a fine man.
Heaving a heavy sigh, you watched as he held his hand firmly on her back, leading her around the dance floor, making her giggle by just being close to her. Your heart ached at the thought of ever having to give up on him, at the thought of seeing him with another, someone he would choose to love, ignoring to see your longing gazes forgotten on him. How could he have seen, he never dared to look when he felt your eyes on him, nor did you dared to look when he forgot his on you.
Standing up from your chair, you walked towards the terrace, needing fresh air, trying to clear your thoughts as the slightly cool, windy weather stroked your cheeks. You knew you shouldn't have thought of him romantically, but you would have been a fool not to notice the handsome and caring man he has grown into. Watching Lady Bridgerton trying to find a wife to her son hurt both emotionally and physically and you couldn't wait for the season to end, to leave the balls and play-pretend behind you, running away from the inevitable.
"Help me!" you heard his desperate voice, but before you could have turned around, you felt his hand lock around your wrist, gently, but in a haste, dragging you after himself.
"Benedict, what are you doing?" you asked in confusion, trying to understand his chaotic behaviour as he pulled you along, passing corridors by corridors in the gigantic mansion.
"My mother," he sighed as he stopped his steps, breathing heavily. "My mother is becoming—" you waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have been stuck in his thoughts.
"Are you alright?" you asked, frowning at his frozen state, as though he couldn't find the words and his thoughts overruled his actions. You watched his hunched back as he fought to get enough air in his lungs, his eyes focused on a certain point on the marble flooring, completely out of the present. "Benedict!" you called him again, this time firmly, attempting to catch his attention.
"I know it!" he exclaimed, making you jump slightly at his unexpected enthusiasm as a rather wide smile spread across his face.
"What do you know exactly?" you inquired.
"It might sound foolish at first and I do not blame you if you think I have lost my mind, but I need your help," he explained, leaving you even more curious.
"What would I need to help you with?" you asked furrowing at the man as if he has forgotten to include you in his grand idea.
"My mother has been adamant in finding me a wife and there is only so much I can do to prevent her from continuing her crusade. I know I shouldn't ask you such a thing, but I can't possibly think of anyone else who I trust enough," he continued in a secretive manner.
"Benedict, you must be clearer. I don't understand what you wish for me to do," you attempted to push him to finally reveal his idea.
"I need my mother to stop searching for a wife and the only way I can do that is if I already found someone I am interested in," he started. "That is where I would need your help, if you agreed. Should you agree to pretend I am courting you, my mother would surely stop this nonsense and leave me alone," for a mere second you felt overwhelmed by the hope of his interest in you, but that was only until your brain processed his words. "Pretend" being the main focus of your attention, shattering the small shimmering light of hope within you.
You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself, attempting to hide your disappointment. "Surely you didn't think this through. Your mother isn't a fool, she would see through us immediately. You can't possibly think it's a good idea," you tried to reason with him, but instead of thinking it through again, he quickly shook his head.
"But it is. Think about it. You have said so yourself, you don't want to marry just yet and nor do I. It would be the perfect option for both of us, solving our issues," he added enthusiastically as if his idea was anything, but brilliant. He could clearly see the weary expression across your face as he stepped closer and reached for your hands, engulfing them in his large and warm palms. "We would only have to pretend for a short while, I promise," he tried to reassure you. Whilst you knew it was a foolish idea, the thought of being able to stay close to him even if for a short period of time, seemed to cloud your better judgement.
"For how long?" you asked looking up at him as a mischievous grin spread across his dashingly handsome face. One that you adored so much. "I wouldn't want to be a spinster, Benedict," you sighed heavily.
"I would never let that happen," he shook his head quickly, his previously playful smile long gone from his face. "Let us do it for a few weeks and we will see how my mother reacts. I'm sure if we work well together, you might even catch the attention of some very noble men too," he winked jokingly, trying to lift your dull mood.
You haven't had much time to contemplate, maybe a few seconds until you ran through all the options you have been provided with, which was basically none. You heaved a heavy sigh and shook your head, offering a sceptical look to Benedict. "Fine," you said, earning a surprised expression from him, your answer shocking him for a second, before he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, twirling you around happily.
"You are my saviour," he chuckled as he hinted a small kiss on your forehead, stopping himself as he realised what he had done. "I apologise, I didn't mean to—"
"I understand. You are simply happy I have agreed to such a scandalous idea," you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the happiness you felt. Even if for a short while, Benedict was to belong to you, and it meant more than you could have possibly expressed. You knew you couldn't have him forever but having him for a couple of weeks made you feel like the happiest person alive.
"I owe you! I didn't think you would agree," he grinned happily, a childish warmness radiating from his stance as though he had won a grand prize.
"I still don't understand why I did. Surely, I'm a fool," you added quickly with a silent chuckle.
"We both are," he replied as he started leading you back to the ballroom with your arm linked around his. His gaze focused on the way ahead, but your eyes were rather resting on his attractive features. He was a stunning man, and you were sure if he had turned to look at you, he would have seen the amount of love you were harbouring for him. But as many times before, no one of you has ever turned.
Weeks passed by and if anyone, Violet Bridgerton was the happiest person to see Benedict growing closer to the woman, you, she had envisioned beside her second eldest son. She has made it very clear that a wedding should soon be happening, wanting nothing but a little baby in her arms. You never wanted to crash her dreams but hearing her talking about a future between you and Benedict was beyond painful. The thought of you waking up beside Benedict, his arm resting across your waist, his neck hidden in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin made your heart ache, knowing it was impossible.
You stood in Somerset House, one arm hooked around Benedict's as he watched the paintings, his face focused on one particular art with dark colours and shadings, slightly depressing as if the artist tried to capture a horrible emotion. Art was always something that you found beautiful, but never really understood. When Benedict talked about the meaning behind each piece with a childish happiness across his face, it made you feel content. Although you didn't understand much of what he was saying, the adorable expression he wore was worth each and every moment you spent listening to him.
Looking at his handsome features as they relaxed into a content smile, made you mirror his expression. You couldn't look at him and not smile. As though his mere presence made you feel at ease.
"I feel your eyes on me," he chuckled with a mischievous smile, knowing that you have indeed been staring at him for the longest time.
"I'm sorry," you quickly turned away, feeling your cheeks and ears heat up in embarrassment. "I couldn't stop watching you. You were really focused on that painting and it seemed as though you were here physically, but not mentally. You unintentionally make this face when you enjoy a painting," you smiled shyly.
"A face?" he furrowed, not knowing of his own reaction.
"Yes, as if you were completely captured by the painting. You have a certain content smile across your face and even forget to blink at times," you giggled, placing your hand in front of your mouth, remembering his facial expression.
"Don't hide your smile," he said as he reached for your wrist and gently wrapped his fingers around your arm, pulling your hand away from your lips. "You are even more beautiful when you smile," for a second his words made you hope, as though he meant more than he let on. His eyes seemed as if they could see through you, reading each and every single thought that crossed your mind. For the shortest of time, it felt your feelings weren't as unrequited as you thought. However, you quickly had to remind yourself that your imagination was playing a painful game with you, one that would surely end in a heartbreak.
You quickly turned away, trying to shake those foolish thoughts away, before you decided to dwell on them any longer. Clearing your thoughts, you turned back to him with a phony smile across your face, biting your bottom lip to calm yourself. But his deep frown left you confused. "Are you okay?" you questioned as he tilted his head as if he was studying your face.
"You were biting your lips again," he replied. "You do that when you are nervous or feeling uncomfortable," he added, stunning you. Biting your lips was indeed a nervous habit of yours, one that you couldn't stop as it made you feel slightly at ease when you felt as if even your own thoughts betrayed you. You never thought Benedict even realised those irrelevant, minor details.
"I'm fine, Benedict," you tried to reassure him with a smile that you wore confidently but could not fool Benedict.
"Should you feel the need to talk, I'm here," he said, drawing tiny circles on the back of your arm that he was still securely holding onto, reassuring you that he was by your side whenever you were in need of him.
As happy as it made you, you couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment as you thought about the heartbreak when he would finally want to end your foolish little game and find himself a wife that he could cherish forever, leaving you with the most horrible heartache one could cause.
You knew it was inevitable, you knew it would kill you, but you loved Benedict and you would have never forced him to stay beside you for any longer than he wanted to. You were ready to give him up, to be happy even if with someone else. The thought of letting him go hurt, but you weren't sure of your own strength either. Thinking about how long you could stay beside him pretending to be a mere friend left you with just as much pain, if not more. But you were ready to sacrifice your own happiness even if to be able to spend one more second with him.
Days passed by since your slightly awkward encounter in Somerset House. You have pretended to be a couple so in love that you couldn't possibly stay away from each other. Lady Whistledown didn't miss to write a paragraph or two about the two of you, already planning your wedding, one that you found slightly excessive, but dared not to mention to keep your act believable.
As much as you enjoyed the first few weeks of your play-pretend, it was hard to keep it up for long. You loved every minute you spent with Benedict, but the longer you were beside him, the more pain you felt. You wished to make him happy, to continue your act, but you also knew that it wasn't forever, and that tiny little thought suffocated you.
You sat on a bench in the park, right after promenading with Benedict. He joined his brothers whilst your maid brought you a glass of water to refresh yourself. You watched as Benedict laughed with his brothers, a wide, adorable and carefree smile sat across his face. Weeks ago, you would have smiled at his happiness, but then and there, sitting on the bench, watching his happy form, you felt miserable. Each time you looked at him, your stomach jumped nervously, your breath caught in your lungs as he touched your arm. These tiny little details meant nothing to him, but for you they meant the world. He couldn't have known the effects his advances left on you, he couldn't have predicted to hurt you unintentionally, but in the end, he unknowingly caused you pain.
Standing up from the bench, you started walking towards the Bridgerton brothers. Heaving a heavy sight, you lifted your arm and tapped Benedict's shoulder lightly, trying to catch his attention. He turned around with a wide smile, looking at you curiously. However, your face must have forgotten to oblige as his smile quickly disappeared and concern took over him.
"Are you alright?" he asked as he nodded to his brothers and reached for your hand, placing it on his arm, leading you away from his family.
"I must talk to you," you started, your voice unusually grim.
"Go ahead. You are worrying me," he added impatiently. Trying to collect your thoughts, you stopped, halting the man beside you whose worried eyes didn't seem to want to leave you for a mere second. "Talk to me," he attempted to reassure you.
"I am really sorry, but I can't possibly do this anymore," your words earned a confused frown from Benedict, before he finally understood what you meant. "I know I promised to help you and I wish I could have done it longer, but I honestly can't do this anymore," you added as you fought against your tears, trying to keep them in place for as long as you could. You couldn't let yourself cry in front of so many people, you couldn't let that happen. Benedict straightened himself in front of you, trying to hide your face from the curious eyes.
"I understand. I am sorry for forcing you to do this. I never thought it could be this hard on you. I would never hurt you, you know that, right?" he asked, trying to contain himself from wrapping his arms around you, fidgeting with his hands beside his thighs.
"I know and you didn't hurt me, it's not your fault. It has just become rather difficult recently and I don't think I'm capable of pretending anymore," you tried to reassure him, making him feel less guilty. "I'm still your friend and I will always be your friend," you added with a phoney smile. Your own words were a lie. You didn't know how long you could pretend to be his friend, but you knew he needed to hear that, he needed not to blame himself. "I will be going home now, but surely I will see you later," you smiled up at him as you curtsied and nodded towards your maid, ready to head home, completely oblivious to the pained gaze he was watching your slowly disappearing form with.
Whilst you sat in your carriage, letting your tears finally run down your cheeks, leaning on your maid's shoulder, Benedict stood confused between Colin and Anthony, his eyes fixed on the ground, his thoughts filled with you only.
"Brother?" Colin called for him with concern in his eyes. It was unusual to see his brother unresponsive, without a playful smile. "Are you alright?" he asked, earning a frown from Benedict.
"I shouldn't have dragged her into this," he replied, but his words were directed more to himself than his brothers.
"What do you mean?" Anthony asked, seemingly more interested in their conversation.
"It was all a lie," Benedict replied, his gaze still fixed on the carefully cut grass.
"What was a lie?" the eldest Bridgerton brother asked again.
"All along we were pretending to be courting, so mother would stop trying to force me to marry," he scoffed, finally understanding the weight of his idea. "She said she can't do this anymore. That it was too painful to bear," he shook his head, guilt overcoming him.
"You really are a fool," Anthony replied with a sceptical look across his face, earning a confused look from both Colin and Benedict.
"How do you mean? Is it because we have been pretending?" Benedict questioned his brother. "I know it was foolish, but she agreed, I didn't know it would be particularly hard on her," he added with a deep frown.
"Brother, can you not see the way she looks at you? Always trying to make you feel happy, bringing a smile to your face even when she, herself is struggling to do so? Are you really that blind?" Anthony raised a questioning brow, as though he couldn't believe how oblivious his brother was towards your feelings.
"Should I understand?" he asked tilting his head innocently, searching for the right explanation. "We have been friends from a very young age, I am certain we have always tried to make each other smile in a difficult situation," he added, earning an eye roll from the eldest Bridgerton brother, ignoring his manners.
"When you said you were courting her, I thought you finally realised that you weren't the only one with feelings beyond friendship. However, after hearing about this foolish idea of yours, forcing a lady to pretend to love you, when in fact she has feelings for you is beyond stupid, brother, and I'm quite disappointed in you for not realising it yourself," he shook his head disapprovingly.
"Are you telling me she has feelings for me?" Benedict asked in disbelief, his brother's words lighting a weak hope within him.
"Indeed, took you long enough to understand," he scoffed.
"I have to talk to her," Benedict added quickly, heading towards the carriages in haste, carefully planning all he needed to tell you.
The ride didn't take long, 20 minutes at most, before he stood in front of your house, his hands shaking slightly, nervousness running through his whole being. Knocking on the door, a maid opened it for him, asking him to wait to announce his arrival to you.
You laid on your bed, cheeks swollen from crying, bottom lip red as a result of the constant biting of your nervous state. A knock on your door brought you out of your misery as your maid walked into the room.
"Mr. Bridgerton is here to see you," she said with a saddened tone, knowing of the arrangement between the two of you. Your eyes widened in surprise, you weren't ready to see him, especially not in your current, heartbroken state. "Would you like me to ask him to leave?" she questioned, looking at the panicked expression across your face.
"No, it's fine. Please take him to the drawing room," you instructed her and headed to the bathroom to make yourself presentable. Your eyes were bloodshot, your face was slightly swollen, and your clothes were beyond wrinkled. Attempting to straighten your dress, you stroked the material over and over again, but it didn't seem to work, nor did the cold water you washed your face with to remove the evidence of your miserable state. At last, you gave up and walked to the drawing room, knowing you wouldn't be able to do anything else with your appearance.
"We have just parted, Benedict," you said to the man as you stepped inside the room and took a seat across the sofa he occupied.
"I needed to see you," he replied, standing up from his place and taking a seat beside you. "I—, I talked to my brothers after you left," he started, stammering over his words, something he only did in his nervous state. "I am a fool and there is no excuse for that. I can't possibly imagine how hard it must have been for you to pretend—"
"I have told you already, I am completely fine," you tried to reassure him with a faux smile, one that this time Benedict didn't believe to be genuine.
"But are you?" he asked, earning a confused frown from you. "Do you know why I thought this foolish idea to be brilliant in the first place?" he raised a questioning brow, but instead of replying you shook your head. "I wanted to be closer to you. I merely thought it would be my chance to spend more time with you. Surely, I had no intention to marry anyone, and I wished my mother to stop, but my primary concern was you. I wanted to be near you at all times, but I couldn't possibly tell you how I felt, knowing you would only reject me," you couldn't control the surprise sitting across your face, your lips parted in shock, his words seemingly part of your most precious dreams. It seemed surreal.
"You are confusing me, Benedict," you spoke up, trying not to hope once again to then fall painfully.
"I'm saying I love you. I have loved you for so long, I can't remember when it started. I never imagined my feelings could be returned and I turned to foolish ideas to be beside you. I needed my brothers to open my eyes and scold me for being childish, for making me hope that I might have your heart even if only half as much as you have mine," he reached for you hand, gently squeezing it in his hold, reassuring you that he meant every single word of his.
"I love you," you blurted out, astonished by his speech, your own words surprising you.
"You do?" he asked, afraid to believe the words he has longed to hear from you.
"I do," you nodded, this time with more confidence, earning a wholehearted smile from Benedict as he leaned closer and wrapped his arms around you, embracing you in his arms.
"I made you cry, didn't I?" he asked as he pulled away slightly, enough for him to be able to look in your eyes as he placed his hands on your cheeks.
"It wasn't you. I was emotional, because I wasn't sure how long I would be able to stay beside you as a friend before it became too much to handle," you giggled awkwardly, feeling as if you have said too much.
"It was still my fault. I didn't consider your feelings," he shook his head, disapproving of his own actions. The tip of his thumb gently brushed across your bottom lip, leaving you with a ticklish feeling. "Have you been biting your lips again?" he asked as his eyes focused on your mouth. His attentiveness, his attention to detail and his closeness made you swallow nervously.
"I might have," you whispered, not daring to raise your voice any louder. Feeling his breath on your lips, the proximity between your faces, his warm palms on your cheeks made you feel intoxicated.
"You shouldn't do that. From now on talk to me when something bothers you," he spoke in a low tone, his voice soothing, making you feel safe. "You are doing it again," he chuckled, his eyes completely captured by the way your teeth bit on your lip, but this time it wasn't nervousness, but excitement. His closeness affected every tiny part of your body. "It really makes me want to kiss you," he breathed, completely mesmerised by your lips, as if an invisible force was pulling him towards you. You felt your heart beating at a dangerous pace, almost as if threatening to escape your chest and you could swear Benedict heard it just as well.
"Hmm," you hummed in a reply, incapable of creating a coherent sentence, before closing the gap between the two of you, a certain confidence rush taking over your actions. Instead of the surprised reaction you expected from Benedict, a playful chuckle left his lungs.
"Impatient, it seems," he added, before he returned your kiss, pulling you closer to himself, enjoying the feeling of your body in his embrace. He has imagined over and over again how it could feel to kiss you, to hold you, but none of those made-up scenarios could ever compete against the reality and the content it filled him with. "I wish to genuinely court you this time," he added as he pulled away from you.
"I very much hope so," you giggled happily, earning a playful eye roll from Benedict, before he captured your lips once again, wrapping his arms around you securely.
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kingkatsuki · 2 years
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So, I loved the Otome Idea so much that I started writing it (even tho I'm currently at work), and I really hope it's gonna turn out fine. 😅
I still don't know if I should write the otome only or the setting where the real life Heroes find you? But I think I'll include them, the Idea is too cute to not do so!
Ooooh, I got another idea for a heartbreak!
Imagine after the week you took off of your socials to calm down, you reinstalled the game but you choose another route, completely ignoring Bakugou whenever his virtual him would talk to 'you'. I can literally hear Katsukis heart break, because yes. Yes he still watches your streams and no, he didn't contacted you again. He doesn't deserve a second chance after the bullshit he's done and you're just confirmed it with your choice.
But he's still donating to you, changing his username once in a while so he can hear the petnames again you called him. "Thank you Suki for your donation!" - "And thanks to Babyboy we can go on a date with Red Riot" - "Oh shit, the generous donation from Dumbass goes straight to the new outfit." - "Uuuh, looks like My Savior wants me to pick the cheesy line, uuugh"
and you don't even notice that you're saying those petnames because come oooon, they're T3ddyb3ars and birdbrains and broccolihaters everywhere so who acutally cares about names? Bakugou will always support you, he will always make sure you make the right decisions because he didn't and he regrets it.
-💕 (still so angsty, whyyyy? hahaha)
That’s the beauty of this idea! There’s so many different things you could do with it!
First I think I liked the idea of it being an Otome game, but now I’ve thought about Bakugou watching you play on stream? That is literally my fave new idea like I could read a fic like that for hours🥺🥺🥺
Omg him changing his usernames so you call him those old pet names has my HEART what the heck. But imagine if he starts messaging you? And you have no idea that it’s Bakugou but you can feel yourself falling for him over the words?? And you feel so silly because you don’t even know what he looks like or who he is.🥰
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rantrambles · 3 years
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Ever get so upset you make a Tumblr account to vent?
I haven’t even listened to The Penumbra Podcast yet but it’s on my list because it’s insanely popular and the cosplays I’ve seen are hot as hell (A+ to all the cosplayers I’ve seen you’ve done great work). Now, with the recent news surrounding the podcast, I’ll wait till it’s done if I ever do get into it. I’m Asian and part of the LGBT community but I’m not nonbinary so I can’t say much about the trans represention in the art but I wanted to add my two cents on the matter as a person of color and someone examining the situation from the outside. Also, before I get deeply into it, I’m not the only person of color with opinions on this matter so if people have their own frustrations and criticism with the racism in The Penumbra Podcast and/or the new artist they hired, definitely listen to them too. These are my own personal opinions, and I’m sure other people will disagree and that’s fine. We’re all going to have different views on this so bear that in mind. Also, feel free to correct me or add anything if I’ve missed some information. Here’s a great breakdown of the whole situation for those that don’t know what happened. Finally, I was very hesitant to post this, but I felt it was important because I make a statement at the end on how race should be presented in a podcast format so if you are interested in making a podcast and want to have a diverse range of characters, please skip to the end to read those thoughts.
I’ll start off by saying, I’m not even that upset with the new artist that The Penumbra Podcast hired. I know that statement alone is controversial but I don't personally know them, and I’m not going to judge who they are as a person by a few pieces of art they’ve made. They are the least of the problems that I have here. Since the announcement and the backlash, I’ve been scrolling through the artist’s Instagram account and I can tell why people find the designs offensive, but I’m also comparing the designs to the artist’s other work, and I honestly believe that’s just their style. They’ve exaggerated the features of just about every character they’ve made, regardless of race or gender. From what I’ve seen the sharp angles and overly round curves in the anatomy that make some of the character’s features more jarring are how they prefer to draw. I’m sure they’re capable of drawing more realistic proportions but for the most part they’re art aims to call attention, be bold, and create distinguished features. Not inherently a bad thing on its own.
And yeah I’d understand the issue if this were a scenario where the artist heard how these characters acted in the podcast and thought “hey, obviously this character is a black woman because they are super strong and therefore must have big muscles, no other woman could look like that” or “hey, this character has to be Asian because they act super seductive sometimes better draw them as such.” But from my understanding the race was already decided by previous official artists and a general description of the characters were already generated by the audience, similar to how The Magnus Archives leaned towards drawing scrawny Jon with black, greying hair and dark skin. The new artists couldn’t really change those features even if those features aren’t described in canon because a depiction that strayed too far from popular fandom interpretation would make the character’s unrecognizable to the fanbase. 
I think the reason this became such a big issue for most people is because the new Penumbra artist used their exaggerated art style when making these characters and people of color and nonbinary folks already see themselves drawn as these exaggerated caricatures all the time (with those images being used to further discriminate against them). I’m sure the artist didn’t mean for their art to be offensive, but that of course doesn’t change how it was received. 
According to some, the poses and expressions the artists chose did not fully represent the characters entirely and only served to further perpetuate harmful stereotypes, and I’ll have to take their word for it because I still haven’t listened to the podcast so I have no idea how the characters act. But again much of the criticism is based on the one line-up and doing a deeper dive into the artist’s work I managed to find artwork that was much less offensive. Here some art where Vespa is depicted in a non-violent pose and one where Vespa is in a threatening pose but not an overly violent one. Here is Peter drawn in a non-seductive pose. Hopefully, the artist truly does keep the criticisms in mind as they work on the new official art. I’m just not the type of person that wants to get the pitchforks out and cause this particular person to lose a job they seemed really excited about over their old character line-up, especially when that person is also part of a marginalized group.
Again, that’s just my opinion on that particular artist. Those who are offended by their art are still valid in how they feel, and the artist should absolutely take their criticism to heart to better how they represent the characters.
What I’m more upset about is that I think The Penumbra Podcast should never have released official art for their characters in the first place and that’s their mistake that they refuse to own up about. They have made it clear that the story was never meant to portray characters of colors, a fact emphasized by the fact they hired mostly white actors from the start. They only started releasing art of the characters to get a profit. And the thing is they know what they did was wrong. All I had to do was search Penumbra Podcast racism and there is a note on their website saying that they archived some old official art.
“We have discontinued all Penumbra merchandise that uses the original character designs, and in the meantime, any profits on the sales of that merchandise will go to the For The Gworls project. We also realize that the depiction of these characters as POC, while not appropriate for us to use in our marketing and merchandise, has nonetheless become personally meaningful to many POC listeners. For that reason, and because we do not wish to distance ourselves from our mistake, we are keeping these images on our website for archival purposes. Though we do want to make it clear that many of the main/featured voice actors are white and that we did not write the characters to represent any specific POC experience, you are, as always, free to imagine these characters in any way that you like.”
I went to their shop and they still sell posters and pins with the character’s faces on them, but they are donating it to a good cause so hopefully that stays the same. However, I still find it a little uncomfortable that they are still selling character merch and have plans to continue selling character merch. They have no right to dissuade the fans that already found representation in the characters, but they also have no right to profit off the representation that was built, regardless if they made the story. 
Let’s compare this to another piece of popular media. I love Avatar the Last Airbender and, I liked the ATLA voice actors just fine but there should have been more people of color doing voice acting behind the screen too. The voice actors for that show were mainly white too, however, the creators knew that they would be making poc characters. That’s what makes the difference. Did they still choose to go with mostly white voice actors? Yes. Could they have done better and pay more people of color? Also yes. But I’m not as furious at them because they did their research on the cultures they were basing the ATLA world off of and intentionally gave us a show where Asians could see characters that looked like them represented on the screen. The Penumbra Podcast did not do any of that. Again, they openly admitted that it was never their intention to make the character’s people of color when they made the podcast so that goes to show no research was made to properly represent specific cultures. The color of the character’s skin in their official designs therefore became more of aesthetic choice rather than representation, and it wasn’t even their aesthetic choice to begin with!
Race isn’t a color you can just throw onto the character because you feel like it. So I want this to be a lesson to anyone that wants to make a podcast: if you want to include poc characters please do some research into the cultures you plan to represent the way you would with any other form of media. Just because the audience can’t see the characters and just because it’s harder to smoothly introduce the character’s appearance doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be lazy on how you present the characters. Do research before you start writing the first episode and take the time to hire poc actors. Hiring poc actors is actually the least that can be done to show representation. Also, since the audience cannot visually see the race of the characters on a podcast and it can’t typically be described the way you would in a book, you’ll have to be creative. It’s not my job to say how, but my suggestions would be, before the fans come up with their own image of the character, you need to establish race in the first few episodes or release character profiles on a website so that the fans know you canonically intended the characters to be of a certain race even if you aren’t able to mention it in the actual podcast. If you are unwilling to do any of these then the best route is to avoid stating race at all and allow the audience to build their own representation into your form of media. However, once this happens, you are not allowed to profit off popular fan interpretations. You lose all rights to create official art or images of the characters. You cannot use “we have a diverse cast of characters” when you market your story. It doesn’t matter whether you created the content or not, you did not create the representation for those minority groups.
It’s one thing for fans to build their own inclusivity into a form of art like a podcast, but it’s another thing for the creators who never worked to make the representation happen to take advantage of the representation that the listeners built for themselves. Thank you for attending my TedTalk.
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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years
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Washing Machine Heart
Day 22, Story #2 is by @rosequartzstarswrites​
Title: Washing Machine Heart Author/Artist: rosequartzstars - @rosequartzstarswrites (Because of Tumblr settings, this is posting from my main blog, but it’s me!) Pairing: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (and background Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger) Prompt: 5+1 Rating: T (only for some strong language and non-explicit insinuations) Trigger Warning(s) (if any): none apply! 
“I can’t believe I’m going through with this,” huffed Hermione, struggling to keep up the brisk pace Ron was marking on the sidewalk.
“You never believed you’d have to, did you?” Ron said gleefully, seemingly unaware of just how hard his long-legged strides were to keep up with.
“You never told me you were that good at chess!”
“No, more like you never thought anyone could be better than you at anything!”
Despite only having been friends, close friends, with them for a semester, Harry had already become accustomed to the constant bickering between Ron and Hermione, to the point even of endearment. Coming from the Dursleys’, arguments and rebukes were something he was used to, but the undertone of friendship with which Ron and Hermione faced off was a welcome change (and a very entertaining one). Still, he tended to side quietly with Ron, and this particular time was no exception: part of him was delighted at the prospect of seeing Hermione get a tattoo.
This had all started from a ridiculous bet, born of boredom in the lounge of their dorm building. Ron had eyed the communal chessboard, battered and chipped from years of usage, and challenged Hermione to a match.
Hermione had scoffed: “Only if you want to lose, Ron.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Ron had said, exchanging a look with Harry as a sly smile crept onto his lips.
“I’m completely certain.”
“Certain enough to bet?” Ron had prodded her.
The competitiveness that, before becoming friends, was all Harry had known of Hermione had flared up in her eyes. “I’m listening.”
“When you lose—”
“If I lose, and I won't—”
“When you lose,” Ron had reiterated, “you have to get a tattoo of my choosing.”
Hermione had smirked. “Game on.”
In Hermione’s defense, Harry thought, she hadn’t ever considered she might lose. There really was no way of expecting how good Ron had turned out to be at chess, especially since —Harry thought— Hermione had based her certainty on how abysmal his grades were, against her own straight A’s, in their proofs-based mathematics class, which relied entirely on strength of reasoning. But, as it turned out, Ron was actually a master logician, if only somewhat lazy at his math classes, and this he had proved by absolutely obliterating Hermione with the fastest checkmate Harry had ever borne witness to.
And that is how they had come to find themselves out on the streets of their little college town that night, wrapped in their scarves and their winter coats to battle the first of the December chill, walking to a tattoo parlor Ron knew in the area so Hermione could be forever reminded of her loss by a tattoo Ron would choose. And if Harry knew Ron well, and knew how much he relished teasing Hermione, the reminder would be a strong one.
“I didn’t even want a tattoo,” Hermione was mumbling, more to herself than at either of them. “I never wanted one— did you know that you might not be eligible to donate blood if you have a tattoo? I mean, not that it’s impossible, but it’s a factor against you, like your weight and your age. And my family has a history of needing transfusions— oh, God, what if my grandfather needs a donation, like, tomorrow? The three-month period of eligibility won’t have elapsed, and my father can’t donate, and– and–” She froze in the middle of the sidewalk. “Oh, God, have I killed my grandfather?”
“Relax, Hermione,” Ron said, throwing a fraternal arm around her shoulders and squeezing her half in an attempt to get her walking again. “You’re halfway across the country from home. You wouldn’t be able to fly out on such short notice anyway.”
Harry had to stifle a laugh at how Hermione gaped at Ron then, a billion other dire possibilities to worry about racing through her head now. Ron, however, was less successful at keeping down a chuckle. “I’m kidding, Hermione. Besides, a tattoo will make you look badass.”
“I don’t want to look badass!” Hermione squeaked shrilly. “I’ve never been remotely interested in looking badass!”
“Well, interested or not,” Ron said as they came up to a dark brick building with a neon sign reading LOVEGOOD’S flickering above the door, “it seems like you don’t have much of a choice, because we’re here.”
Hermione let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a whine as she looked up at the storefront that, to her, was synonymous not only with her doom but apparently that of her grandfather.
“Ron, please?” she said meekly.
Ron, however, looked gleeful and would not be deterred. “A bet’s a bet,” he declared, grabbing her wrist and beginning to march her up the three or so stairs that led up to the door of the tattoo parlor from the sidewalk. Harry lingered behind for an instant, watching the backs of his two friends as they waddled up the stairs, smiling as he listened to Ron debate whether he would make Hermione get a skull or a sailor’s “Mom” arrow-pierced heart, and Hermione pleading shrilly with him not to do either of those things. Watching them, Harry’s smile widened. He was lucky to have them as friends, that much he knew, despite the short time he’d spent knowing them. Why he hadn’t found them his freshman year was beyond him— but now, now that he had these wacky outings and constant bickering to enjoy, he felt overwhelmingly lucky that they had found him.
“Harry, are you coming in or what?” Ron beckoned him. He had stopped on the topmost step and was still gripping Hermione, whose face was a mask of pure, crystallized terror.
“Absolutely,” Harry said, hurrying up the steps with a little hop. “This I’ve got to see.”
Ron pushed open the door to the parlor with a little too much gusto, and Hermione cringed at the metallic sound of the chimes above the door as they tinkled with the announcement of their entrance. The front of the shop, sealing off the rest with a counter that had seen better days, was empty, the backroom separated by a beaded curtain.
“Hellooo?” Ron called into the backroom, marching right up to the counter. “Is anybody here? We bring a very eager customer!”
Hermione began to protest, but just as she did, an employee came out of the backroom to stand behind the counter. Catching a glimpse of her, Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his chest: she was stunning. She was tall and slender, her toned arms visible through the ripped-off sleeves of her vintage Hole tee, with a curtain of straight orange hair pulled back into a long high ponytail. Her bright brown eyes glimmered atop a button-like nose that matched her small, round mouth perfectly, the pale fine face finished by a spattering of freckles. Even before she had spoken a single word, Harry felt the confidence coming off of her in waves, simply by how she propped her elbows up on the counter and eyed their party somewhat playfully. He was frozen to his place with the sight of her, hoping his jaw hadn’t dropped as low as it had felt in the wake of his awe.
Upon seeing her, however, Ron had had exactly the opposite reaction. “Ginny?” he said incredulously.
“What are you doing here?” the woman —Ginny— said without any greeting, returning Ron’s frown.
“I thought you weren’t working today!”
“I’m covering a shift for Demelza, she had a gyn appointment today.”
“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have come in,” grumbled Ron. The tips of his ears were beginning to pink, a sign Harry had learned to recognize as a hint of extreme emotion in his friend.
“Well, you’re here now, so… what can I do for you?” Ginny said. “I mean, you can’t possibly be the one getting inked, Ron. You’re too much of a wimp.”
“Shut up, or I’m telling mom you got your helix pierced. That’ll make for a fun Christmas greeting when we’re back home, I’ll wager.”
Then the similarity became apparent to Harry: the freckles, the aggressive red of their hair, the same glint in their eyes… Ginny was Ron’s sister. Somehow, he didn’t know whether that was something he should feel good or bad about.
“Tattletale,” Ginny said, swatting at him. “And it’s called an industrial piercing. Not that you’d know.” Only then did she seem to remark on the rest of the party.
“Harry Potter,” she said, and Harry gulped as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest and leaned back, surveying him. “Come to get a sixth tattoo?”
“A sixth— how do you know?” Harry said, befuddled. Out of all the opening lines he would’ve expected her to use, this had not been one of them.
“You can credit the rumor mill at school,” Ginny shrugged, still eyeing him with interest. “You’re a topic of interest. Or at least among the soccer teams.”
“Oh, am I?”
“Romilda swore you had a griffin tattooed on your chest, but I told her I’d heard it was a dragon. Much more macho, I thought.”
“Thanks,” Harry said dully. What else was he supposed to say?
“Don’t mention it,” Ginny gave him a conspiratorial wink. “And if I were you, I’d find out who on the boys’ team has been giving you the eye in the shower enough to count your tats. I bet it’s Ron.”
“It’s not!” Ron said angrily, the red from his ears bleeding out onto his cheeks.
“I bet it is,” Ginny mouthed to Harry, giving him another wink. “But it’s not you?”
“Pardon?” said Harry, for whom the ‘it-is-it’s-not’ exchange had grown somewhat confusing.
“For the tattoo?” Ginny said, and Harry felt like an idiot. “It’s not you who’s getting it?”
“No, ah, actually— it’s Hermione,” Harry was knocked back into his senses as he gestured toward Hermione, who had stood, utterly baffled, throughout that whole exchange.
“Hermione Granger?” Ginny said, and Harry was almost glad when she turned her gaze away from him and toward Hermione. “As in, Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger?”
“The one and only,” Ron declared proudly, happy to be back off a topic that bothered him (teasing Ron) and back on a topic that delighted him (teasing Hermione).
“I wouldn’t have chalked you up to the tattoo type,” Ginny said.
“Oh, she’s not,” Ron said, his face lighting up as if Christmas had come early.
Ginny’s eyes darted between the dismal face of Hermione and the cheerful face of Ron, her eyebrows rising as she took it in. “Okay, I’m not going to ask about whatever this is. What am I doing on you?”
“I’m designing it,” Ron said brightly. And if Harry had thought that Hermione’s face couldn’t get more desolated, he’d been wrong.
“Christ, Hermione, what has he got on you?” Ginny said, already opening a drawer on the counter to pull out a sketchpad and a pen.
“I’m such an idiot,” Hermione grumbled.
Ron pored over the sketchpad, shielding the paper from Hermione’s eyes as he sketched. When he was done, he handed it to Ginny with a quick flick of the wrist that, much to Hermione’s dismay, ensured she couldn’t even catch a glimpse of what was on it. Ginny looked over whatever it was Ron had drawn and then looked up at her brother with a frown.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, then,” Ginny shrugged. She lifted the counter to open a gap through which Hermione could walk. “Follow me.”
Looking like a lamb led to the slaughter, Hermione looked up to heaven as if making one last, futile plea before scrunching up her nose and following Ginny through the beaded curtain to the backroom. Because yes, she hated the idea of getting a tattoo, but she hated the idea of letting Ron hold one over her even more.
Ron watched her leave delightedly, relishing in the jangle the beaded curtain made as it swallowed Ginny and Hermione into the backroom. “This is going to be good,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “Oh, this is going to be so good.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Harry blurted out all of a sudden. He startled himself as much as Ron when he said it, though he was glad he’d been able to pare down the question from what was actually swirling around in his head: Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister that looked like THAT?
Ron looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. It never came up.”
“You told me about every other one of your five brothers, but not the sister.”
“Nope.”
“Not the sister that seems to be about our age.”
“Nope.”
“Not the sister that seems to be about our age and plays soccer.“ And is hot.
"Nope.” Ron paused and frowned. “She’s a year below us, anyway.”
“Oh, then that explains it,” Harry said sarcastically.
“It seemed like more of a second-semester-of-friendship revelation.”
“I see.”
Harry held the silence between them for a few moments more before he allowed the next question out. “She plays soccer?”
“One more of the long line of Weasleys that get athletic scholarships to Hogwarts College. Except for Percy— no, he was a disgrace, he got in on an academic grant.”
“The family disappointment, truly.”
Harry wanted to ask more about Ginny, but he held his tongue. His friendship with Ron was the most precious thing his sophomore year of college had yielded him, and he didn’t want to jeopardize it by prying further or making it seem like he had the hots for his sister. Even though he did. He suffocated that small voice at the back of his mind: he hadn’t even spoken properly to Ginny, just stood there like an idiot and let her quip freely about his tattoos— which, mind him, apparently were fodder for locker talk back at Hogwarts.
The buzz of the needle in the backroom as it started up brought Harry out of his thoughts, just in time to see a shit-eating grin appear on Ron’s face.
“I wish I could see her face right now,” he said gleefully, and Harry let himself stop thinking about Ginny to join Ron in picturing what Hermione Granger must look like seated in a tattoo parlor chair.
“It really wasn’t so bad,” admitted Hermione as they exited the tattoo parlor and went down the little steps back onto the sidewalk.
Despite his pretensions of malice, Ron’s nobility (which had never been in question, even despite his teasing) had shone through and yielded a considerably modest tattoo: a small, capital “R” in his own handwriting. Hermione, who had almost cried with relief after Ginny showed her the design, had chosen to get it on her left thigh, on the side and at the very top, right under her hipbone.
“Why did you get it there?” Harry asked as they resumed their brisk walk back to campus.
“It’s not a place you usually show. That means if a sleeve shifts or an interviewer sees, I don’t know, my ankle or something, they won’t notice it.”
“As if a tiny ‘R’ would disqualify anyone from a job, let alone you,” snorted Ron.
“Professionalism is a virtue, Ronald,” Hermione huffed, though her cheeks had gone red. “Besides, since that part of me is always covered, I’ll save myself from having to explain the story behind it to anyone that spots it.”
“Yeah, except the bloke that eventually undresses you and sees you in your panties. Try explaining what that 'R’ means to him,” said Ron. But Harry suspected Hermione wouldn’t have to: from how Ron’s eyes had widened and his gaze had lingered when Hermione had pulled down the side of her jeans ever so slightly to show them the finished product, exposing a sliver of her underwear, Harry could almost wager that Ron would be the bloke in question.
They walked in animated chatter for the rest of the way, the tattoo forgotten until Ron made a quip about Hermione now having crossed the gateway to joining a biker gang and Hermione going positively beet-red in the face with outrage. Then Harry, his hands in his pockets, simply smirked to himself and resigned himself to their bickering for the rest of the walk, knowing he was no longer needed in their exchange. Instead, he let his mind drift to Ginny. She hadn’t really spoken to him again, merely ducking out from the beaded curtain backroom and instructing Hermione on how to take care of her tattoo, saying only a general goodbye to the three of them as they exited the shop. There had been nothing in Ginny’s manner to suggest that she might be thinking of him as strongly, as irremediably, as he was of her, and yet there he was.
The main quad was mostly deserted, except for a few scattered groups of late-night library frequenters or sneaking couples, as the three of them crossed it to get to their dorm. Ron and Hermione didn’t stop arguing as they climbed the four flights up to their floor (the elevator, as usual, was broken), and only broke it off because Hermione reached her room before the boys reached theirs, slipping inside it and shutting the door before Ron had a chance to get the last word in.
“Well, that went well,” Ron shrugged as he and Harry kept walking down the hall to their room.
“You actually got her to get a tattoo,” Harry said with some admiration as they reached their door.
Ron grinned as he swiped the key card. “I may drive her crazy, but if anyone was going to get her to do something like that, it was going to be me.”
Ron pushed the door open and let them into their dorm room. He closed the door and, without taking off his coat, immediately flopped onto his bed— or, well, what could be seen of the bed under mountains of dirty or otherwise discarded clothes. Away from his mother’s chore-mongering for the first time, Ron had let himself go wild and go to the other extreme, but even Harry had to admit that the army of socks draped over the foot of his bed was beginning to smell a little stale.
“So,” Ron said, propping his head up, “no parties tonight?”
“Well, it’s a Wednesday,” Harry said.
“So what? There’s no party spirit around here?”
“Ron, it’s the last Wednesday before final exams. People are studying.”
“I wasn’t aware I was rooming with Hermione,” Ron grumbled. Harry had to admit she might have gotten to him a little. However, Ron’s irritation was short-lived, a grin appearing on his face again. “Wait, but we’re not people. We’re not studying.”
Harry surveyed the room and, despite his desire to throw in the towel for the night and have fun with Ron, felt a pang of dismay at just how much grosser it would be if they caved and did that (last time they had, they’d had a Pringle-eating contest, with devastating results for their sheets, which still had some crumbs). “No, Ron. We’re doing laundry.”
Ron groaned. “Jeez, now I’m rooming with my mother.”
“Okay, fine, you don’t have to do the laundry. I’ll do it for the both of us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, go hang out with Dean and Seamus or whatever, see if you can get Hermione to do her second wild-card act of the day and make her stop studying to hang out with the guys.”
“Now I’m a man with a mission,” Ron said, perking up in delight at the prospect of teasing Hermione, or even seeing her once more that night.
“Just shove your clothes in the laundry bag before you go, won’t you? I don’t want to touch your nasty briefs more than I have to.”
Ron obliged, tossing all the clothes on and around his bed into his orange laundry bag and pulling the drawstring to close it. “I’ll update you on the Hermione thing,” he said cheerfully, hurrying out of the room and down the hall to the left to the room they’d left Hermione in.
Harry laughed to himself, wondering how long it was going to take Ron to realize why exactly he always seemed so eager to do anything Hermione-related, as he too threw his dirty clothes into a checkered drawstring laundry bag. Then, he hoisted one sack over each of his shoulders and opened the door using his ankle and leg to let himself out, his hands full with the laundry bags. He stifled a smirk as he passed Hermione’s room and heard the familiar bubbling sound of she and Ron rowing. If Harry knew her at all, he knew however much she might argue she’d be out of that room in an hour tops.
He groaned as he looked down the stairs, and rued the day he had been placed in the dorm with the shittiest elevator on campus. Resigning himself, he began to walk slowly down the poorly-lit stairs to the basement, where the laundry room was. However inconvenient this descent was, Harry was at least comforted with the knowledge that the laundry room would not be crowded, which would be the greater inconvenience once the elevator was fixed.
The basement was even dimmer, the white lights flickering and buzzing with electricity as Harry walked to the laundry room almost at the end of the hall. Sure enough, the laundry room was deserted, oddly quiet with none of the familiar hum and rattle of the machines as they worked. Harry knelt in front of a washing machine and began unloading the contents of the laundry bags into it, cramming them in so they’d fit because he sure as hell wasn’t shelling out quarters for two washers. When he’d made it all fit (which had involved the use of force to jam the door shut), he went to the shelf that held the communal detergent and poured it into the soap compartment. With that done, he dug out eight quarters from his pocket and inserted them into the washer’s slot, pressing the “Start Cycle” button when he heard the clink that let him know his quarters had been accepted. The washer rumbled slowly to life, jets of water trickling out as it began to spin in one direction and then the other, and it was a couple minutes before it was spinning at a hearty pace.
Rising from his crouch (he had always liked to watch the washing machine as it booted up to wash in earnest), Harry took the laundry bags and turned to head back upstairs, already thinking of what he might do to pass the time in the hour he had before he had to switch the clothes to the dryer.
He was so caught up in thinking of this that he didn’t see the person entering the laundry room at the same time as he was exiting, which ended in an awkward clash between them.
“I’m so sorry,” Harry blurted.
“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry too— Harry?”
Only then did Harry realize who he had bumped into, and only because she kept standing there did he believe it. “Ginny?”
She still wore her Hole shirt, but had discarded the ripped jeans, combat boots, and round-the-waist flannel he’d seen at the tattoo parlor. Instead, she wore frayed gray sweatpants and flip-flops, her hair pulled up from the long ponytail into a messy bun. She, however, somehow still managed to look almost unbearably beautiful. What’s happening to me?
“What are you doing here?” he asked, the only thing he could think of right that second. Spotting the laundry basket she was cradling, he added: “No laundry in your dorm?”
“No, yeah, there is one, but it’s always too crowded, it being a freshman dorm and all.” Harry nodded: his first year, he too had done entirely more laundry than he had to, and was thankful by the quarters he saved just by realizing he could wear a pair of pants more than once before they were dirty. “So I use the one here. Much quieter. I know Ron’s ID and password—”
“You do?”
“He gave it to me once so I could pick up his books from the library. And my memory’s great.” She gave him a half smile and looked beyond him at the laundry room. “Doing laundry?”
“No, I just like the ambience down here. The shitty lighting and bleach smell are really my style,” said Harry. Ginny laughed, and Harry felt a rush of pride at what was probably the first witty thing he’d ever said to her. “Need a hand?”
“I’d appreciate one, sure,” Ginny said, again smiling at him. Harry moved so she could walk into the laundry room, and watched her pick one of the washing machines that lined the wall. When she’d settled on one, he crouched down next to her and help her lob the clothes into the maw of the machine.
“Tattoo parlor let out early?” he asked as they placed the clothes inside.
“More like you guys came in really late. You were my last customers— I just cleaned up and closed after you left.”
“And you work there?”
“Sure beats a regular work-study, doesn’t it?” Ginny grinned. She tossed in a Tide pod that was left at the bottom of the basket, closed the door to the machine, and rose to find the quarters needed to activate it. “Oh, shoot, I left my wallet in my other pants—”
“I got you,” said Harry, digging for eight more quarters in his pocket. For once, he was glad of his bad habit of carrying an excess of loose change in his jeans, something Hermione already got on to him about (sometimes, like when she’d gifted him a money purse, not too subtly).
“Thanks,” Ginny said, picking the laundry basket up from the ground.
Harry listened for the telling clink and then pressed the button. The washing machine whirred to a start, but for once, Harry didn’t feel compelled to watch it boot up: instead, he turned to Ginny. “So how did you come to work there?”
“At the tat shop?” Ginny asked, hopping to sit on the top of the washer where her clothes were spinning. “My friend Luna’s dad, Xenophilius—”
“Gesundheit.”
“Shut up,” Ginny said, but the hint of a laugh was (to Harry’s satisfaction) visible on her lips again. “Anyway, Xenophilius owns the place. He set up in a college town because he knows college is the first time kids are truly free to make rash, impulse decisions.”
“Like getting a tattoo?”
“Exactly. And besides, all the college students love his New Age bullshit, they think it’s very 70s, so his shop is always full. He got a big boost after he started placing crystals in the shop windows.”
“He’s in with the kids, then?”
“Don’t tell him that, he’ll be mortified. But he’s great, really. A little eccentric, but great. He knows me from when Luna and I took an art class together in 10th grade, and he’s always complimented my art, so he helped me get my tattoo artist license as soon as I turned 18 and hired me.”
“Is Luna the girl with the shaggy blond hair and the weird glasses?”
“That’s her. Though I’m surprised you didn’t know her by her bottlecap necklaces. That’s usually what people comment on.”
“Does she work there too?”
“Yeah, though not as an inker, she’s useless with a needle. She designs a big chunk of the tattoos, though, both original designs and commissions or requests.”
“That’s awesome,” Harry said. He realized that was the first time through the whole conversation that he had stopped. He’d never hesitated on what to say next: conversation with Ginny had flowed easily, naturally, and he hadn’t had to think too hard to keep it going. Still, he was a little disappointed that it had stopped. Ginny, however, seemed to share in this, because rather than say goodbye and take her leave, she opened up a new topic.
“So how long have you and Ron been friends?”
“Er– since the start of this school year, actually.”
“Really? You’d think from how he talks about you, he’d known you forever.” Harry felt a flush of happiness at hearing that Ron talked about him.
“Well, I got him for a roommate this year, and we just clicked. Then it turned out we had a lot of the same classes. And we’re both on the soccer team, so it just got better from there.”
“It seems strange that you never crossed paths your freshman year.”
Harry shrugged. “I mean, freshman year is weird for everyone. I certainly felt like I was just bouncing from one place to another. I still hang out with a lot of the guys from last year, but my friends have changed. It makes sense— the first year, everyone is trying to meet as many people as possible, as if it’s a race, but by sophomore year you know more of what you want and what you’re looking for. In a way, I’m glad I met Ron now that I’m in a more stable place, now that I know my way around the college and have a better grip on things. I have a feeling he’s a friend I’m gonna keep.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sticking around the Weasleys,” Ginny said, and Harry felt a tingle run up his spine. Was she… flirting with him? “And Hermione?”
“Oh, Hermione’s great, Ron and I would be dead by now if not for her— I don’t know how I got through a full year without her.”
“But she’s very different from you guys, isn’t she?”
“Well— on the surface, sure, but not in the things that matter. The fact that she went through with the tattoo tonight when she could’ve kicked up a fuss and bailed out tells you all you need to know.”
“So what I’m hearing is that Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger is as much of a bonehead as my brother at heart?”
“Stubborn, is the word I’d use. And only when Ron’s involved, actually.”
Ginny smirked. “Idiots. They haven’t even realized it.”
Harry knew exactly what she meant. “You think it too?”
“Oh, I’d bet on it. Ten bucks says they’re together by the end of the year.”
“Hey, did our visit by the parlor today teach you nothing about bets? They can be dangerous.”
“But I’m betting against you, aren’t I?” The way she said you made Harry’s heart skip a beat. “Fine, not ten bucks. But I’ll bet you a load of laundry, how’s that?”
“Deal,” said Harry, taking Ginny’s extended hand to shake it. The touch of her palm, with its long, slender fingers, sent warmth coursing down from his hand and the length of his arm. They let go and dropped hands, and perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Harry thought he detected a certain reluctance in Ginny as they did.
Harry leaned against the washer, his propped elbow almost brushing up against her thigh. “How about you? How’s your first year going so far?”
Ginny winced. “As well as you’d expect, I suppose. Lots of people still behave like it’s an extension of high school, and I’m very much over that. But as things go, I’m having a blast. Being on the soccer team certainly helps.”
“Congratulations on that scholarship, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Ginny said, her wide smile revealing a row of perfect, square white teeth. “You’re on a scholarship too, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. My aunt and uncle would’ve never paid a single cent for me to go to college, so it was the only way. But I’m sure they were glad to be rid of me anyway.”
“They sound like lovely people,” Ginny said sarcastically.
“I should introduce them to this Xenophilius sometime. My uncle Vernon would have a stroke just walking into that shop.”
“Well, if you ever swing by, you have an insider contact,” Ginny offered, and Harry loved the implication of something, even something as simple as an 'insider contact’, between just the two of them. “I’d be happy to arrange a meeting, especially for such esteemed patrons.”
“I might take you up on that, if I ever planned on seeing them again,” Harry said. The words came out a bit more harshly than he’d expected, and the second silence in their talk set in, brought on by the darker implications of his family situation. Desperate to break it, Harry cleared his throat and geared up to talk again: “So, do you have any tattoos?”
He was relieved to see the smile, that coy, almost lopsided smile, appear on Ginny’s face again. “Actually, no, not a single one.”
“Do you think you’d ever get one?”
Ginny thought for a second. “I might, if something meaningful enough came around. And only if I was 200% sure. But really, I feel like one tattoo would lead to another, and then I’d never stop and run out of room on my skin. So it’s more of a containment mechanism, really.”
Harry smirked. “Hm. Interesting.”
Ginny broke out onto a full grin as she watched him. “What?” she asked, but when Harry’s smirk only deepened, she shoved him playfully, her touch on his shoulders eliciting the same warm sensation as the handshake. “What, Potter, tell me! Why is it interesting?”
“I mean, since you work at a tattoo shop, and you’re wearing a Hole t-shirt, I just thought you might be the type—”
“The Hole tee? Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna gatekeep it, like you’re the type of guy who’d be like 'name three songs'—”
“No, not at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t know a lot of music by Hole. I really only know who they are because of that one Fall Out Boy song Courtney Love was featured in—”
Ginny winced. “Not Fall Out Boy, please.”
“Why? What’s wrong with Fall Out Boy?”
“Harry—”
“I know they get a lot of shit, but really, their first albums are pretty good—”
“Harry, you’ve gotta stop right here, or you’re going to make me stop finding you so attractive.”
And just like that, there it was, out in the open. Harry felt stun: he felt his mouth open to offer a witty retort, but no words came out. Because the girlish grin had evaporated from Ginny’s face and turned into a different, more mature look, her eyes smoldering slightly and her mouth slightly pouted.
“What about you?” she asked, her words slower, as if she was choosing each one individually. “If the soccer team gossip is true, I know you have five tattoos.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice having dropped as well. “Yeah, there were a few tat shops around my neighborhood where the rules were pretty lax.”
“What are they?” Ginny asked.
“The tattoos? Well, the first ones I ever got were my mom and dad’s birth and death dates, on my wrist,” Harry said, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to display two small lines of numbers, in plain black ink, on his forearm.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ginny said softly.
“Don’t be, I was really small when it happened. But I still wanted to pay them homage. Anyway, I’ll not bore you with my family history right now.”
“But tell me sometime?”
Harry was ecstatic at the implication that Ginny wanted to spend even more time with him. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “Yeah, I will.” He moved on to the second tattoo, shifting the other sleeve up a bit to show Ginny a small black paw print in the center of his wrist. “This was my third one. My godfather was the only person my aunt and uncle would let me see while I was growing up, and even then only because he threatened them. And he had this huge, black shaggy dog, I think it was a Newfoundland, that looked almost like a bear, named Padfoot. I loved that dog, and every time I think of the happiest moments growing up, Padfoot’s in a lot of them. So when he died when I was sixteen, I got this to remember him by. It seems like a tribute to my godfather, too, so I like it doubly.”
He didn’t need encouragement from Ginny to keep going. He raised his left leg and propped it up on the washing machine by where Ginny’s legs hung, rolling his sock down a bit to show a green, line-art tuft of grass snaking above his ankle. “I got this when I got the soccer scholarship to come here. I wanted something to commemorate soccer, seeing as it’s not only, y'know, my passion, but also what got me out of that damn house for good. But I thought something like a soccer ball or a net or even the pitch outline would be too cheesy, so I got a bit of grass, y'know, as in the field…”
“Tasteful,” Ginny nodded her approval, and Harry felt newfound appreciation for that tattoo. “That’s three down, Potter.”
“I’m getting there.” Harry brought his leg down from the washer and turned his back to Ginny, taking his hand up to the nape of his neck and using it to shift the hair there upward to reveal the back of his neck where it turned into his back. “Can you see it?”
“The little lightning bolt?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the story of that?”
“That was my second one. To be honest, I was a little ink-happy after my first one, so a couple of weeks after I got it I went back and got this.”
“But why a lightning bolt?”
“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, turning back around to face her. “I guess it was just cool.”
“Oh, very,” Ginny said, and the edge in her voice let him know she was teasing him. “That leaves us with one, then. The emblematic chest tattoo.” Again, the playfulness disappeared from her face and was replaced by that strange look, the one Harry couldn’t really decipher but really, really liked. “Tell me, then, Harry— is Romilda Vane right?”
It was only because of the suggestiveness in Ginny’s voice and the permanence of that look on her face that Harry did what he did next. His movements slow, he pulled his shirt off over his head, setting it on the washing machine right by where Ginny sat. He heard Ginny draw in a breath and it hitch in her throat as she saw him, her eyes moving over his bare skin to spot the ink blot that had brought this all on. Curled above his right pec was a small, S-shaped dragon, colored in red and gold.
“I win,” Ginny said, her voice still husky, as she extended her left hand to touch the dragon with her fingertips.
“Are you going to tell Romilda?” Harry said, his own right hand settling lightly on Ginny’s thigh.
“No, actually,” Ginny said, her palm now coming down flat on Harry’s chest. Her other hand had also drifted to him, and she had placed it on Harry’s left side, right below his ribcage, as if to hold the side of his torso. “I think I’d rather keep this moment to myself.”
And then she was leaning in and kissing him, touching her lips to his first with tentative softness that turned into a stronger, more determined fire as the kiss deepened. With both of Ginny’s hands on Harry, and one of Harry’s on Ginny’s thigh and the other supporting the weight of the kiss against the solidity of the washer, they leaned into one another. Harry’s mouth sought out Ginny’s eagerly, overcome by the fiery feeling pooling in his stomach and rising up to his throat through his chest, by the fact that everything he’d thought about on their walk back from Lovegood’s was coming true much sooner (and much better) than he’d expected. He felt Ginny’s tongue nudge at his lips and opened his mouth to let her in, engulfing more of her lips with his as he did so. Ginny kissed passionately, her tongue meeting Harry’s even as her teeth dug lightly into Harry’s lower lip, making him kiss her more deeply. With her this close, he was invaded by the flowery smell of her hair, by the soft feel of her skin, by the low humming sound she made as she kissed him. And everything was coming together, making the fire in his chest grow, and it was a good kind of burn, better than whiskey, better than anything—
The loud ding of the washer as it announced it had concluded its cycle startled them, and they pulled back from the kiss looking a little dazed, that one upbeat chime having been all they needed to bring them reluctantly back into the real world. Still Ginny didn’t take her hands off Harry, and Harry felt less than inclined to move his from her leg.
“I should, uh, switch to the dryer,” he said, the only thing that popped into his mind there.
Ginny tightened her hold around his middle and moved her hand from his chest, wrapping it around his upper back to draw him closer. “Oh, let it wait,” she said, and then she was kissing him again, and Harry was finding that the dryer could wait for hell to freeze for all he cared.
The sleepy sound of the chimes above the door didn’t even make Ginny raise her gaze from her stats study guide, which she’d pulled out to make the best of the not-too-busy lull at Lovegood’s. “We’re almost closed,” she announced to whoever had come in.
“You can’t make room for one last customer?” a familiar voice said, and only then did Ginny perk up immediately.
“Harry!” she said brightly, shutting the stats book as it became all-but-forgotten. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to add one more tattoo to the five I’ve already got,” said Harry. “Think you can give me my sixth?”
Ginny didn’t even need to say yes, just opened up the lift-up counter door and disappeared through the beaded curtain. “Flip the door sign to 'closed’ before you come through, will you?”
Harry obliged and flipped the sign before following Ginny to the backroom. He sat patiently on the tattoo chair as Ginny milled about, getting the supplies ready.
“Y'know, you never did tell me the story behind your dragon tattoo,” Ginny commented as she went through the sterilization procedure for the needles. “Seeing as we were, um, otherwise occupied…”
The memory of the kiss flooded through Harry with the same fire that he’d held in his chest ever since, the flame growing to engulf his whole body just hearing Ginny mention it. “Should I tell you now?”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“I got it as a tribute to my old headmaster back home, Albus Dumbledore. Funny old man, and incredibly cryptic, but he’s the one that first gave me the idea of applying for the scholarship and helped me get all my grades and papers in order so I could make it here. We were very close, and he had this saying that he used to tell me whenever I ended up in his office for getting into trouble— 'never tickle a sleeping dragon’, he’d say.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Harry laughed briefly and shrugged. “Hell if I know. But it was his catchphrase. So after I graduated, I wanted to get something to commemorate him, so I got the dragon from his favorite saying. He came with me and got it too.”
Ginny turned to him and eyed him quizzically. “Your headmaster got the tattoo along with you?”
“I told you he was a funny old man.”
Ginny pulled a pair of black latex gloves over her hands and rolled a wheeled office chair over to Harry, the needle in hand. “So by what I’m hearing, you only ever get tattoos of things that are extremely meaningful to you, right?”
“That’s right,” said Harry.
“So, Mr. Meaning, what’ll it be this time?”
Harry smiled. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it slightly upward, just enough to uncover his lower trunk. He pointed to a spot on the left side of his torso, right under his ribcage— right where Ginny’s hand had been, where her touch had been burned into his skin. “Right here,” he said. “I’d like a little washing machine.”
98 notes · View notes
katberk · 3 years
Note
can u do headcannons like the deaf reader for mcyts but instead do a mute reader maybe?
🌸Headcannons for a Mute Reader🌸
💚Dream💚
💚Dream is a loud man
💚If you ever tug on his sleeve he would instantly ask what’s wrong
💚In the deaf reader headcannon I said that he would think sign language was fun, so it’s fun to him (He likes to sign because it’s just easier for him)
💚You and Dream are like peanut butter and jelly
💚He would love to hear your voice one day
💚He would kiss your neck and jaw a lot
💚Kinda sad that he can’t hear your voice, but he doesn’t care about it that much
💚’Talking’ with his friends would be weird
💚He would try his best to help you everyday with speech if you’re ready
💚Hugs you whenever you cry about ‘who you are’
💚”Hey, Y/N... it’s okay! Being mute isn’t your fault. It was your choice/you couldn’t stop it...”
💚He would comfort you and just try to have a good time with you
💚Seeing you smile with that little sparkle in your eye makes his day/heart flutter in glee
💚Signing with you kinda comforts him
💚”I love you’s” always said, even if you don’t say it back he still loves the effort
💙GeorgeNotFound💙
💙Being mute doesn’t bother him
💙He feels bad that you both can’t have vocal conversations, but you guys work it out
💙Like I said before his sign language is really good
💙If you get into a fight then sometimes he gets mad that you don’t respond because he forgets that your mute
💙Apologies x100
💙Being mute is a struggle, but you both work through it actually really well
💙He likes to give you quick pecks on the lips kinda hoping for a squeak
💙It’s kinda like the deaf headcannons, but you can hear his voice
💙Relaxing days with cups of tea
💙I mean like he doesn’t have to sign, but he kinda just like/wants too
💙Petty arguments
💙”What you want for dinner?”
💙’Pasta’
💙”We had that yesterday night!”
💙’Me wants pasta George! ME WANTS PASTA!’
♥️Sapnap♥️
♥️This man would be sad
♥️He would want to hear your voice so badly!
♥️Even so, he loves you
♥️Shows you off to all of his friends
♥️”Yeah, that’s Y/N, aren’t they cute?!”
♥️”Sapnap... stop showing else pictures of your s/o”
♥️”You’re just jealous that my s/o is a walking legend.”  
♥️Complements
♥️Is it just me or do you believe that Sapnap would tell you to open your mouth because he wants to see if there’s a change in your throat
♥️He’s to wholesome for you
♥️Being mute wouldn’t change the hug of death
♥️Purring cats and adorable boyfriend... if you could talk you would scream “CHECK!”
♥️He doesn’t bring your muteness up, he finds it normal
♥️Kisses on your throat...(In your throat! NOOOO)
♥️Screaming Sapnap is a hyped up Sapnap, and he wants you to be excited with him
❣️BadBoyHalo❣️
❣️SO CUTE
❣️He would translate to whoever you’re talking to 
❣️Isn’t bothered
❣️Lucy would be an your kid
❣️Sleepy times would just be him talking about his day and then waiting for you to explain yours
❣️His sign is REALLY good
❣️Do you need hug after long day? BBH is your man
❣️Whenever you’re watching a movie there would be no talking what so ever unless BBH really loves it
❣️I can imagine you waking up because kisses were being placed all over your face
❣️He would probably have a whole stream dedicated to sign language
❣️”Tell us what you guys want to learn in sign!”
❣️’You wanna learn how to say muffin?!’
❣️His gasp was so LOUD
❣️Pillows, blankets, Rat, and Disney movies
❣️”I love you’s”
🦊Fundy🦊
🦊Fundy is a soft man
🦊His voice would be soft to the touch
🦊Cuddles and snuggles
🦊You can’t tell me that Fundy would kiss your cheeks to try and make you go red
🦊He would protect you with his life
🦊He would feel honored if you tell him why/how you became mute
🦊During stream he would let you play while he reads off the donations
🦊”Lime-a-bean says that they like your cloths”
🦊’Thanks Lime-a-bean!’
🦊Your eyes would be sparkling!
🦊That makes him die of cuteness
🦊You would have a quiet gaming date
🦊He would build you a little house with signs that have encouragement
🦊”You’re my mute little bunny”
🦊and then.... ‘MAHU’
🌼Wilbur Soot🌼
🌼Singing to you
🌼When he wants to ‘talk’ to you, he usually clings to you
🌼You would be able to hear him play his guitar so that always makes him happy
🌼If you choose to be mute then he would help you everyday to become comfortable
🌼He’ll understand if you don’t want to talk though
🌼Tommy would annoy you both so much that Wilbur started to laugh
🌼’.... I wanna chuck him out the window!’
🌼”Watch out Tommy, you might be chucked out the window soon!”
🌼Bright red in the face
🌼He loves to kiss the top of your head
🌼To help you go to sleep he would hum to you
🌼You would squeak to hum back 
🌼Killing you with love, and screaming for you to come into his office/studio
🌼”Y/N! Chat wants to see you!”
🌼’You just want cuddles...’
💜Quackity💜
💜He’s sad that he can’t teach you to speak Spanish
💜Whenever he’s streaming he would switch to autotune whenever he’s talking to you
💜”Y/N wHy Do YoU WaNt Me To LeAvE?!”
💜’I was trying to sleep Alex...’
💜Don’t tell me that he wouldn’t 
💜You would sometimes complain to Karl
💜’He wakes me up in autotune’
💜”Well, I mean it is Alex”
💜’He calls me at 2am and speaks in autotune!’
💜”Okay, that’s kinda different”
💜’Then he tells me to so animal noises!’
💜”I mean like you can’t stop him”
💜’I duck taped his mouth, he’s doing a stream now’
💜Karl would go on his phone and click on the video
💜’Now he knows what it’s like...’
🌸Tommyinnit🌸
🌸SPEED RUNNING SIGN
🌸He would really like to hear your voice
🌸Surprise attacks making you jump and let out little noises
🌸Enjoying Diet Coke together
🌸Tickling you
🌸”I just wanna hear a noise!”
🌸’No! Stop!’
🌸I can see him bragging about how strong you are
🌸”Even if they're mute they fight like a champ!”
🌸”Tommy, as much as I love Y/N, I don’t wanna keep on listening about them right now!”
🌸”You’re just jealous that this big strong man could land sometime Wilbur!”
🌸Wilbur would leave the call and complain to you
🌸’Tell your boyfriend to shut up please
🌸’If I do he’ll just tackle me to the ground!’
🌸’To bad Y/N! It's either you getting tackled or thrown out a window!’
🐝Tubbo🐝
🐝Loves you for you
🐝He’s so kind and understanding
🐝When he’s around everyone else he would be kinda quiet and self reserved 
🐝When he’s around you he’s super out there and ready to take action even if he’s nervous
🐝Force me to not believe that he would ask you to try and do a bee noise
🐝”C-can you do a bee noise?!”
🐝”hmm...bzzz...hm”
🐝He would faint
🐝Snuggles into your side for safety
🐝He would ask for you to try and hum to him
🐝He would sing Disney songs to you and then listen to you hum after him
🐝He doesn’t care that you’re mute, but it’s definitely harder
🐝Fights are very rare
🐝If you do fight, it’ll be petty arguments like George
🐝Help me because he’s too adorable
🌸Sorry if this was short, I was planning on doing 20 each
🌸I just couldn’t do it, but hopefully you like this! It took me time because it was pretty hard for me to think about new ideas.
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mellowyandere · 3 years
Text
SCP Academia Eraserhead Part 2
Reader: F
Characters: Aizawa Shouta (main); Kurogiri
Summary: After struggling to find his way out with Dr. L/N, Eraserhead is offered some help. (This turned into a lot more exposition than expected. Part 3 will get steamy though I promise! I’m just a hoe for setting the stage.)
Length: 1442 words
Warning: Yandere-themes.
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He had been running for a while now. Hallways and corridors bleeding into one another in a way that turned his head upside down. He hadn’t had to open any doors so far, and a strange absence of security set off little alarms in the back of his head.
Left…no right? He snarled in frustration. Curse this stupid foundation. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy but this was simply ridiculous. He peered down at your unconscious form, nestled protectively against his chest in a layer of his tendrils. So small and weak... he had to keep pushing forwards.
He had been forced to kill a couple of SCP’s along the way, not all being as sentient and rational as himself. Their desire to kill you forfeiting their rights to life.
Shit. Another dead end.
Something cleared their throat behind him, causing him to spin on his heel. His tendrils flared out ready to cut down whatever it was. To his surprise there stood what appeared to be a man made of mist, wearing human clothing. His sharp attire strongly contrasted his own, which consisted of an orange jumpsuit, the top half having been torn to shreds when he unleashed his tendrils, and a pair of standard issued boots.
“Move out the way. Don’t make me hurt you.” He didn’t have time for this, who knew when security would appear to regain control of the breach.
The mist man raised his hands to show his non-hostility. “You look a bit lost… would you like some help leaving this place?”
Eraserhead narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why would you help me?”
“Don’t you find it odd..” Ah great this might take a minute. If he wasn’t blocking off the hallway Eraserhead would have left by now, but the man in front of him didn’t look like someone he could simply side step.
“Beings such as ourselves don’t belong here. By all means humans are nothing more than fodder in comparison. And yet they contain us? They’re witty creatures with dangerous minds, it’s what gotten them this far. But so are we. This containment breach was no accident, I’m sure you’ve already noticed almost every enclosure open, save for the truly unhinged ones. And a complete lack of guards to corral you back to your prison. No, there are higher powers at play. But now isn’t the time to delve into that, so I’ll ask again… would you like some help leaving this place?”
The mist man finished his little speech and opened his arms, inviting Eraserhead forward.
“What’s the catch?” Eraserhead knew better. Nothing in this world was done from the kindness of one’s heart. Well, except for you. You were the only real kindness he had ever known.
The mist man chuckled. “I see you are a man of caution. Yes this exchange is not for free. We’ll be keeping tabs on you. Your intelligence and abilities make you a very strong creature indeed. One day we’ll need you to help free our kind from the shackles of humanity.”
Lowering his arms the man took on a more sinister aura. “Let it be known though, I don’t need your consent to teleport you. I’d choose my offer. After all that human in your arms looks so frail, she might not make it out here alive if you keep at it.”
Shit. This bastard wasn’t leaving him with much choice.. should he fight his way out? He wasn’t exactly sure what his opponents abilities were besides teleportation. Even if he erased them, can you punch a man made of mist? His clothes clung to him, but who knew his real body composition.
No. This man was too dangerous, and his threat towards your well-being still hung heavily in the air. “Alright. Deal.”
The mist mans nodded with a hum, satisfied with his answer. “Start with continent, State or province, then major nearby city. Small nearby towns if applicable.”
Eraserhead listed off what was asked of him. His goal was to bring you to his old self-isolation home. He used to live amongst humans with little to no problems. His larger than normal stature at 6’10” raised a few eyebrows but nothing too serious. He kept the dark markings along his torso covered, and a scarf helped to hide his deathly white complexion. As for the eyes, he always wore sunglasses.
His issue had arisen with the month of his “birth”. For as long as he could remember, during the month humans called November, he went absolutely feral. Losing all control over his himself he’d slaughter anything that crossed his path. He’d make sure to isolate before November came along, and for the most part it worked. He had lived many centuries alongside humans with only the occasional slip up.
Five years ago he slipped up. And the SCP foundation had been all over him ever since.
“I can’t get you to any of the nearby towns, but I can get you to the city,” the mist man stated. “Step forward, I’ll take you there now.”
With that the man began to spread out the mist that defined his body, pooling out until he filled the entirety of the corridor. Eraserhead stepped forward into the blackish purple abyss, his vision going dark. Squinting he tried to peer through the pitch black that surrounded him, until finally he could see again. Stars lit up the night sky above him, and the sound of cars echoed down far below. Stepping onto concrete he moved out of the portal. This creature had quite a powerful ability. 
“What you do from here is up to you. We’ll give you some time to adjust and then we’ll contact you. Do not think that you can hide from us.” With that the mist vanished and Eraserhead was left alone atop a tall building with you in his arms.
It would be about a half a day of running to get you home from here. Meaning it would be wise to stock up on supplies now. That way he wouldn’t have any reason to leave you alone for the next week or two as you adjusted to your new home. The tall creature checked you over, making sure you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon before leaving you on the rooftop. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he’d move fast.
Jumping from building to building he made quick work of locating and snagging some clothes from a local donation box in order to change out of the tattered orange jumpsuit. One extra-large black long sleeve shirt and accompanying extra-large pair of blacks pants. Grabbing a few bags that had also been inside, he headed for the nearest chain supermarket. He’d stock up on essentials like food and nest making materials, as well as daintier things that you might like such as feminine soaps and fluffy stuffed animals.
Due to the limitations in his interactions with you he didn’t really know what you’d want, but he had the rest of your time together to learn.
He was going to prove to you that he was the best mate you could ever dream of having. No one else would ever be good enough for you. And no one else would ever be good enough for him with you now in his life. He had never encountered a human like you before, and he’d be damned if anyone ever dared try to take you away or hurt you.
Making quick work of the supermarket he dashed out as the alarms rang. It hardly mattered though, he wouldn’t be coming back to this city. He had enough money stashed away that he’d be able to buy what he needed from small towns as to not draw attention to himself. Despite what the mist man had said about a new world order, he didn’t want to chance the foundation getting back on its feet and finding him.
Quickly climbing the building he left you on he was relieved to see your small form still sound asleep on the cold concrete. He wrapped his tendrils around his new stash of goods and scooped you up in his arms yet again, taking a moment to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent.
Even if he had to give up part of his freedom to get here, holding you in his arms had all been worth it. Now all he had to do was get you home, and then he’d make sure to repay every gesture of kindness you had ever shown him tenfold. His precious cute little human.
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