#but hes never specified exactly how he identifies with that

[lueurjun]

slytherin boyfriend sunghoon

request: Hi, Can i request a Slytherin Sunghoon x a Ravenclaw reader? Thankss <3 — you certainly can. hope this is alright for you my love. you didn’t specify a trope so i just improvised, i hope that’s okay<3 slytherin bf!sunghoon x ravenclaw!reader. @vickys-witchylife

ps. i apologize for how long this is… i got carried away- no but really this is really long like i didn’t intend on this but it just happened 💀

everybody pause because this makes so much sense

like sunghoon gives off major slytherin vibes

remember his blonde hair? draco malfoy could neverrr

and could you imagine him decked out in green and silver?

lord have mercy im about to faint

anyways before we get into the whole you guys love each other, cutesey vibes

let’s start with how it all came to be

how my man sunghoon managed to pulled YOU

yeah he’s fine but i have 3 galleons in the bank so #rollinindough #icanbeabetterboyfriendthanhim

now we’re not gonna go down the route of ‘all slytherins are bad’ because they’re absolutely not

but sunghoon wasn’t exactly the warmest at first

bro is not 🙅‍♀️ the sun

not in the sense that he bullied you or anything

me and the homies would jump him if he did… the homies being my demons 👹

he just didn’t see the point in befriending you because naturally the two of you were so different

you were just the ravenclaw smarty he was forced to do his prefect duties with

ravenclaw smarty 🤓 my delulu self would be flattered because to me that’s a nickname- you’re half way to marriage already

ah yes you read that right

prefect duties

more specifically: hallway patrol

paw patrol, paw patrol, we’ll be there on the double 💃

so the two of you spent the majority of your evenings together

being a prefect wasn’t a huge deal to sunghoon, it was just another gateway to his parents approval

not him thinking he’s too cool 😎

but you took your role very seriously and that was something that annoyed him about you

because you never allowed him to slack off

him slacking off could get you both in trouble and you weren’t going to let him take you down with him and potentially jeopardise your chance of snatching up the head ( whatever you identify as bae ) position

just because he didn’t want to be head boy didn’t mean you didn’t desire the position

needless to say it was a little frosty between the two of you at first

aimless bickering would echo off the walls as you demanded he stay on task and not stray off to go cause mayhem with his friends

personally i would take on all of his duties just so he could have fun- DON’T look at me like that, you’d be a pick me for him too smh

he wasn’t just put off by the fact that you ruined his fun and actually made him do his job

you’re a ravenclaw, one of the smartest people in your year and naturally, he assumed you wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like him

not bro having a victim complex

but that wasn’t the case at all

you weren’t one to judge, you didn’t care about houses, the only thing that mattered to you was principles

in fact, you were actually looking forward to befriending sunghoon at first

he just pushed you away all too soon and started acting like a rebellious idiot for the sake of his ego

what an idiot

things remained at a stalemate for several weeks

you’d both show up for your perfect duties, he would try to slack off or cause trouble, and you would scold him until the two of you walked side by side in silence

him sulking and you scowling

then, he’d stomp back to his dorm and talk crap about you to his friends

and you’d go to your own friends and express disappointment in the lack of progress made with him

don’t worry bae, you don’t need him. come put your head on my shoulder, mines comfier than his 🤭

things didn’t take a turn until a week before the winter holidays

one evening, sunghoon was over an hour late for prefect duties

you tried not to worry because why should you care? Without him, things would probably be much easier

but alas, something niggled inside of your heart and you found yourself abandoning your responsibilities to find him

you searched high and low, but to no avail. sunghoon was absolutely nowhere to be found

hide and seek in hogwarts is wild

eventually, you headed down to the slytherin common room—perhaps he hadn’t even left his dorm

but when you arrived, a crowd of people stood outside of the door whispering rather loudly

“how do we get him out of there?”

“i don’t know but he can’t afford to step another toe out of line, you heard his dad. one more detention and he’s being yanked out of the school.”

as you cautiously peered around the corner, your eyes settle on a distinctive group you recognize all too well — sunghoon's friends

they remained oblivious to your presence until you muster up your courage and break away from the shadows, facing them head-on

“where’s sunghoon?”

that’s right, you show ‘em who’s boss! hellos and how are yous? never heard of them 💅

“what’s it to you?”

jay fixed his gaze on you, analyzing you with careful scrutiny

“he hasn’t shown up for prefect duties.”

you square your shoulders and cross your arms, exuding an air of forced confidence

not that you were scared, they were hardly anything to fear. it was more the embarrassment of admitting that you were concerned for the safety of sunghoon

‘hardly anything to fear’ NOT YOU VIOLATING UNPROVOKED

lord knows that if it was you who hadn’t turned up, sunghoon would have most definitely thrown a party

this time, heeseung breaks the silence with a deep and weary sigh

“look if you’re here to get him into trouble—“

“who said i wanted to get him into trouble?”

“well—no one but he’s told us all about how you’re on his ass about following the rules. it’s not far fetched to believe that you’d use this as a chance to finally get him out of your hair.”

so he talks about you??? 🤭🤭

you try not to let that hurt your feelings

but it does a little because is that what they really think? is that what sunghoon thinks? that you just want him far away from you?

“look, i don’t want to get him into trouble. if anything i’m ‘on his ass’ to save it from getting kicked off the prefects. i even abandoned my own responsibilities to make sure he was okay, so can you just tell me where he is?”

the group of wizards looked perplexed for a moment, their eyes darting to each other with specific expressions before falling back onto you

and after a silent debate, sunoo spoke up

“he snuck into snape’s office to try and get back jungwon’s special quill. it was a gift from his grandmother, it’s got an unlimited ink charm on it. snape accused him of trying to cheat and confiscated it.”

jake continued next, looking desperate:

“it means a lot to jungwon, so sunghoon snuck in to try and get it but snape entered and now he’s stuck in there. we don’t even know if he’s been caught but he’s in a lot of trouble if he is.”

you eyes land on jungwon, who looks at the ground shamefully

me to snape rn 🤺

the expression on his face caused your heart to ache, but the thought of sunghoon getting into trouble had an even stronger grip on your heartstrings

i sense a crushhhhh 🤭🥰

which is how you find yourself outside of potions classroom, after instructing the boys to stay where they are, you formulate a plan

with your heart racing and your body filled with trepidations, you hurriedly entered the classroom, only to find sunghoon missing and snape seated at his desk

“sir-sir! i was on night duty when a slytherin and hufflepuff got into an altercation. they started hexing each other and i didn’t know how to stop—“

snape was already to his feet, the long black cloak sweeping against the ground as he hurried out of the room to find the ‘altercation’

“feel free to make a run for it!”

you call out, keeping your voice low in hopes that sunghoon can hear you from wherever he’s hiding

and then you follow after snape, leading him aimlessly around until you’re sure sunghoon could have escaped

oh you perfect mastermind you 🤭

“where’s the altercation?”

snape speaks with a snide drawl, his penetrating gaze fixed on you as impatience radiates from his every word

“they must have dispersed. very sorry to bother you, professor.”

you: 😬 snape: 😒

snape snarls, glancing around the dark and empty corridor one last time before turning around to make the gruelling walk back to his classroom to finish his evening work

once he’s out of sight, your shoulders slump in relief and you can only hope that sunghoon had gotten out okay

and you find out the very next evening, when he meets you for the night shift

you’re waiting for him anxiously, when he rounds the corner with such haste that it startles you

he doesn’t slow down until he’s right in front of you, gripping your shoulders

“i know i haven’t been the nicest to you, but what you did for me last night… i can’t thank you enough”

calm down bae they saved you from detention not a burning building 🙄 ( i’m bitter. you should be mine )

prefect duties for the next few days are a lot smoother now the two of you are actually getting along

the silence is replaced with genuine facts about yourselves, or you telling him things you had read and found interesting

every now and then, your fingertips meet in an unbidden caress, but neither of you pull away; instead, both of you savouring the warmth of the moment

it’s giving awkward crushes

finally, winter break approaches and sunghoon meets you on the platform

“i’ll write to you.”

you’re kinda surprised at that, but you beam up at him anyways

“i’ll write back.”

and you do, the two of you write back and forth for the entire of winter

friendly letters turning into awkwardly cute confessions that neither of you are brave enough to say in person

that’s actually adorable shut upppp

by the time term starts up again, the letters have transformed everything between the two of you

you’re no longer ‘just prefect buddies’, nor are you friends… but something more

sunghoon’s last letter highlighted that for you

‘i’ve never been the best with words, especially not in person. i find it much easier to hide behind a piece of parchment and confess that i’ve always found you rather endearing…perhaps when we return to school we could explore the spark between us?… man that was cringe, sorry.’

and explore you do

awkward hand brushes on prefect duty turns into gentle hand holding with matching rouge cheeks

if you see me on the road tonight, mind your business

sunghoon pushing your head away affectionately when you peer over his shoulder at the book he’s reading to pass time

the two of you avoiding your friends at all costs because they all do that annoying thing where they wiggle their eyebrows and make hearts with their hands

horrible flirting attempts

“you have really nice earlobes.”

“thanks? i like your knees…”

“thanks.”

me tryna flirt ^

you still have to stop him from slacking off, but you’re less irritated by it and more amused

because everything sunghoon does amuses you

you’re all surprised at how loud he can be

he always seemed quite reserved, like the normal one in his friend group but you come to realize that he’s just as mental—if not worse than most of them

and your first kiss is just so… you guys

sunghoon had tried to kiss you three times and every single time, you accidentally moved away

the embarrassment- i cannot 💀

it finally happened on the fourth time

the two of you had just finished up for the evening, and sunghoon insisted on walking you back to your common room

things weren’t verbally official yet, but it was an unspoken agreement that you were basically together

you paused at the door, ready to turn and bid your farewells when you were suddenly met with his face mere inches away

taken aback, your immediate reaction was to...

headbut him

even the portraits were absolutely mortified because that could not have gone worse

me and the portraits rn: 🫣

sunghoon recoiled, hand reflexively covering his face in shock. you couldn't help but gasp in surprise, one hand instinctively flying to your mouth

“oh my gosh—i’m so sorry. are you okay?”

his ego wasn’t the only thing bruised, now his head too

“yep. fine. don’t worry about me, though a simple ‘please back away’ would have sufficed”

“i didn’t realize you were going to kiss me! i’m so sorry, sunghoon…”

it takes several moments for everyone to recover

but eventually, the portraits stop hiding behind their hands and sunghoon can finally face you again

the way this would keep me up at night

“i’m really sorry…”

“no it’s totally fine. i should have asked permission first.”

you nervously clasped your hands together in front of you, your gaze drawn to the tender spot on his head where a bruise was already beginning to form

the guilt consumes you and you don’t know how else to make up for it

“i mean…you do have my permission now, if you still want to kiss me that is”

sunghoon looks unsure at first but takes an attentive step towards you

he hesitantly rests his quivering fingers against your delicate jawline, one thumb tenderly pressed against your rosy cheek whilst the other gently wraps around your hand

sunghoon leaned in until he was but a whisper away from your lips, his gentle breath grazing your face and making you close your eyes in anticipation

“you’re not gonna like punch me are yo—“

overcome with impatience, you closed the gap between you and sunghoon, capturing him in a timeless kiss.

those damn portraits are whistling, causing the two of you to pull away shyly

“well go on, make it official.”

“didn’t you see that kiss? that sealed the deal! i would’ve swooned had they not given the poor boy a concussion first.”

“personally i think they should’ve ended up with lueurjun” oh would you look at that! the portraits hey ship us too 😌

this is so long but anyways onto the actual relationship vibes

you have a habit of fixing sunghoon’s tie and robe whenever you see him

and he responds by fixing your hair for you

don’t ask why but sunghoon gives off ear scratches vibes like i just feel like he would like them

so you scratch behind his ear lot and he relishes in it

once the two of you get more comfortable with each other, he sees how unhinged you actually are

and he loves it

biting his lip during makeout sessions

now that is scandalous 🤭

his parents adore you because you keep him on track

you tying his laces because he’s prone to just letting them hang loose and almost tripping himself up

sunghoon getting cuteness aggression over your existence and just having to squeeze your cheeks

bickering like there’s no tomorrow

“i didn’t say i hate you, you just annoy me”

“next time, i’ll let you rot in snape’s office”

harmless shoving of each other

though it wasn’t harmless once ‘cause sunghoon miscalculated his strength and accidentally shoved you into a random classroom

this happened to me once but it wasn’t romantic-

he then ran off and left you to deal with the awkward conversation with your professor

you being more lenient and sneaking down to the kitchens 15 minutes before your duties end to feed each other snacks

which then turns into a mini food fight

drinking each others drinks when you go to the three broomsticks

like you both have your own drinks but end up drinking each others

listen that probably didn’t make sense, i’ve been writing this for days AND IM EXHAUSTED

you helping him study

studying usually ends in makeout sessions in the library

you putting little notes in his books to remind him that you’re thinking of him

and him drawing a penis on yours

he’s so real for that

overall, the two of you are a pair of awkward cuties who can’t get enough of each other and i love it so much

even tho you should be with me but i’ll allow it 🙄

[marshmall]

For mimic!sans it's very hard to put everything together at once, and I chose to put it up a little bit in advance because it's going to take a long time. He needs too much explanation.💀

This will probably be deleted when the setup disclosure of perfect mimic!sans is complete.

Yes, it's a new official Character art that I drew to organize later.

MIMIC! SANS

- He doesn't like his name. Who wants to describe themselves as "mimic"?

- It was not observed accurately. However, it is smaller than other sans. On average.

- His legs are not the same length.

- He is a wanderer who belongs to outcode. In fact, he saved so many SANS. But he describes himself as a wanderer.

- His soul exists, but it doesn't exist at the same time. If you're asking exactly what you can specify, it's the one that doesn't.

- The smoke above his head moves like smoke, but it's actually something between a liquid and a solid. Like rubber.

- His right eye doesn't exist. It's a soul that's replacing the right eye. It's not his representative soul. It's made of his body parts.

- He's been alone for a really long time, so he's learned emotions and languages by himself. He feels significantly less emotion than others. It's not that he don't feel emotions. Therefore, he expresses his feelings more strongly and pretends to feel the same as others.

- His usual personality is a little immature. It's the same as the reason for the emotion. So, just like his emotions, he's just 'mimic' like that, the he's not a real personality.

- His right eye and smoke melt when there is no soul in his eyes. But melting doesn't affect him.

- When his right eye is empty, that is, when smoke flows down, he loses the memory as much as it does. So it makes him impossible to be himself. He won't want to 'mimic' his personality and emotions from this point on.

- Even with his hat, his acting is not covered.

- He can't read long texts because he didn't learn to write from anyone. Short writing is possible. Maybe, he doesn't understand from line three.

- He can't taste it, so he can only judge the taste by the texture. Don't trust his food. He learned to cook from the Papirus... x3

- He is, on average, a little weaker than other SANSs. Can't you feel it just by looking at the size of Milky? XD

- He can turn into other SANSs at any time, but he doesn't even bring the ability. However, if he have a they soul, he can also imitate their abilities. At this point, he prefers to wear the soul on his necklace.

- He periodically appears to have lost his memory. It never happened naturally. He loses his memory by doing something.

- No matter how connected he is to all SANSs, he doesn't identify them as soon as he meets them. No matter how much you feel all SANS' lifetimes at the same time. It would be impossible to remember it all.

- He understands and respects all sans, but at the same time he doesn't understand and doesn't respect, he doesn't make an attempt to understand. Because they didn't understand him either.

It's really long, but his setup hasn't been fully organized yet. Because it's very hard to explain him... In fact, he just wants to be regarded as a harmless and stupid sans!

[grimm-writings]

HIIII i LOVE your blog!! could i request a bard reader performing a song in front of the party, and it slowly dawns upon chilchuck that the song is about loving him? 🥺

a way with words

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is a bit of a poetic shit <3, reader plays a string instrument (envisioned a lute or mandolin but i don’t specify!)

…wc! 1092

…notes! OH MY GODDDD this is so cute. what the hell. we need more bard representation in this got damn dungeon. (i know thistle could technically be one but one in a party i beg)

To me, some parties employ a bard if they plan on going on ‘legendary’ outings into dungeons.

Somebody needs to be there to document their exploits through the written word – how else are legends made?!

You probably stumbled on the party with the intent to write a song of legend.  Eating the dragon that ate one of you sounds pretty legendary after all, right?

Safe to say if you’re not exactly humble about your profession you get on the nerves of a certain union man.

Even if your reason for joining the party was… less than virtuous, you did bring a certain joy to the party that they all appreciate.

If journeying is getting tiring, all you need to do is pluck a few strings of your instrument and hum a travelling song.

Sometimes you’d make a little ‘game’ out of it.  You know using the drunken sailor melody to make your own songs?  Well…

“What shall we do with a big red dragon, earl-ye in the morning!”  Your voice rings out, bouncing off the walls of the dungeon around you.  You eye the party around you before your gaze lands on the half-foot seeming disinterested in your performance. Well, that simply won’t do! You lunge, dragging him back by the shoulders, eyeing him expectantly.  He only gives you a wide-eyed look of surprise for a second before realising everyone is watching.  He’d hate to interrupt the song, so… “Tie it down and eat it for dinner?” he suggests, only guessing the rhythm vaguely.  To his surprise, you seem to really like it.  You laugh and pick up the music once more to sing his lyric once again. He has to admit, at least you’re having fun.  He doesn’t realise until you reach a stop that he’s been singing along at the end.

I imagine half-foots have a cultural appreciation for music.  It’s a big scene!  They have drinking songs, travelling songs, work songs…  I wouldn’t be surprised if most bards are half-foots!

And Chilchuck is no exception.  Have you seen his little jig?  Of course he likes music!

He has great hearing so he’ll also pick up on little accents in your music and singing others wouldn’t really get.

If you’re performing a campfire song, Chilchuck will likely join in (especially if he had a bit of drink).

It’s nice.  He seemed to be relaxing around you, and you seem to be becoming more of a friend to the party rather than a glorified biographer.

You have to admit that the half-foot has been growing you a considerable amount.  What a complex individual.  So much to read into and inspire… 

It would be one night when you’re on night watch that Chilchuck’s sensitive ears end up waking him up. ..

The half-foot was going to hiss and complain about you being too loud at this time in the night, when he realises you’re playing a melody and mumbling words to yourself. …Huh.  Are you writing a song?  Chilchuck tries to remain still with his eyes closed and listens closely.  It’s handy having such keen senses sometimes. He could only pick up a few words; brown, warmth… something about a kind soul? Chilchuck figures you might be setting up for the party’s “legendary” song.  Maybe you’re focusing on Falin.  Her hair is a very pale brown, and she’s a kind soul if a bit of a people pleaser. He rests easy, listening to your gentle plucking of your strings.  It’s a different melody from usual… he likes your softer side he can identify through your music.

He never tells you he listened to your little jam sesh.  If you knew he’s using your music as a way to fall asleep easier…  He can see your smug smile now, and it makes him endlessly frustrated (or flustered rather).

Chilchuck’s feelings are something he never really… knew.  They just sort of existed, and he let them.  It’s not like anything will happen.

Sure, he gets more red in the face around you… and MAYBE he gets a softer look in his eyes as he looks at you… and perhaps he thinks your singing voice is one of the prettiest sounds he has ever heard…

So what?

It’s a colder night when you take out your instrument and announce you finished writing a song.  It took you a long time to complete it, you admit, but you put a lot of heart into it.

A unique starter, the party might think.  Usually you write for fun.  Specifying putting heart into your music is something that rings an alarm in their heads.

You start playing a melody.  It’s a type of sombre, deep sound.  It resonates a less folksy mood and something more… personal. With eyes closed, you don’t notice Chilchuck perking up in familiarity.  That’s the tune he heard you playing weeks ago.  You only just refined it?  At least he can actually hear what the words are. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you sing about a character that has a kind soul, with deep brown eyes.  His warmth is something that you find yourself wanting to bathe in once a journey ends.  Chilchuck listens with a small smile. It’s only when you start mentioning things like silver strands of hair you wish to weave through your fingers, things start to fall into place.  Wringing his hands too often for a well-prepared man is a lyric that is too specific to merely be about some fictional character. He doesn’t say anything even as he joins in the applause at your finished peace, pretending the heat in his cheeks is from the frosty temperature.

That night, he catches you alone refilling your waterskin.  The atmosphere is thick with a kind of calmness.

Where Chilchuck is usually so stubborn, he finds the words escaping his lips in a soft voice.

“Are you in love with me?”  You don’t respond instantly.  He expected as such.  He follows your form with his eyes as you widen your eyes and glance away with a small laugh. “Wow.  Wasn’t as subtle as I thought,” you dryly tack onto your chuckle. He laughs along, approaching you.  He doesn’t do anything drastic, instead offering his own to you. “It’s okay,” he tells you, surprised at his own lack of embarrassment despite the situation.  “The fact you notice all that about me is… flattering.  You really have a way with words.” You return the grin he gives you and take his hand, squeezing it. “How could I not notice, when you are my intimate muse?”

[emeritusemeritus]

Spellbound [Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader]

Title: Spellbound.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader

Timeline: Non-specified, no mention of canonical events but I pictured OOTP as I was writing.

Summary: Sick of how his twin’s devastating crush on you is affecting his Quidditch abilities, George takes matters into his own hands and meddles.

Warnings: Use of a love potion, essentially dubious consent. Pining, crushes, probably minor swearing. Fred’s a love sick puppy. Questionable morality on George’s behalf. Not beta read.

Word count: 2.7k

This was inspired by a lovely Anon request I was sent, original post here. I hope this is what you were looking for, I enjoyed working on this so much! 💙

George Weasley was one half of the infamously disruptive Weasley twins; usually mentioned second and hardly able to be distinguished from his slightly older twin to those that didn't really know him. To those that did, his identifying qualities included being slightly quieter, more patient, more understanding and perhaps more moral... sometimes. Though it was never said aloud, he was the slightly better Quidditch player with a slightly better aim and was arguably more passionate about the game than his twin. He had more focus at least, which was never more obvious than during this season of Quidditch when Fred had been mightily distracted through most of the games, missing bludgers an amateur could have hit and earning more fouls in one season than he had in his entire time on the team. His reason? He had a crush. An almighty crush on you which made him distracted, inattentive, sometimes irritable and almost constantly mopey.

George was perceptive by nature and had picked up on his brother's infatuation not long after it began, noticing that Fred's attention was often pulled away as soon as you'd walk into the great hall or class. Didn't matter that they were in the middle of a conversation or a tactful sale, in you'd walk and out would go Fred's sanity. George couldn't deny that you were pretty, you'd turned his head a few times, not that he'd ever admit that to his brother, but the affect you had on Fred was almost laughable. He was certain he'd seen his brother drool once over you, the hearts in his love-stricken puppy eyes almost making George want to laugh and vomit at the same time.

When he wasn't pining for you in ways George could hardly fathom, Fred was often touchy and sulky at the unrequited nature of his crush. If he saw another bloke talking to you or making you laugh, he'd be insufferable for the rest of the day, shooting daggers at the culprit and threatening under his breath to set off a dung bomb in the unsuspecting lad's dorm.

To make matters worse, you'd started attending Quidditch games regularly when Ron made Keeper in support of your friend and also as support for Hermione so that she wouldn't have to sit alone with her two best friends on the pitch, despite being a Ravenclaw. Many people went to support their friends and as long as they weren’t competing against your house you figured it was fair game to support them. You'd also infrequently started attending practice sessions with Hermione, sitting in the stands or on the side lines where you would spend most of the time studying or drawing. It was a double edged sword for the team if you showed up or not; if you didn't, Fred would mope about and keep checking that you hadn't arrived late during the entire time on the pitch. If you did show, he'd spend the time trying to impress you with comical dives on his broom, outlandish tricks and almost everything exactly fulfilling his actual role to get your attention.

So George came up with a plan. One night when they were restocking the skiving snack boxes and checking on their slow-brewing potions, he'd come up with a plan that was admittedly a little immoral but should surely work. Tensions had risen between the twins after Fred had received another avoidable foul causing them to nearly lose the match and George had walked out of the changing rooms in a huff to start on the restocking, not wanting to hear Fred waxing poetic about how fit you looked in your jumper or how loudly you were cheering for him the few times during the match he'd actually played well.

George was sick of listening to it and it pushed him to a point when his plan seemed to be the only choice.

The next morning George had woken Fred early, dragging his half asleep twin out of bed to get to the Great Hall bright and early, the older of the two still dishevelled from sleep and rubbing his eyes, grumpy to boot.

"Don't see why you're dragging me down at this time, not like they'll run out of food," Fred complained grumpily as he tried to fall into step with George who seemed to be walking at a faster than normal pace down the staircases. About halfway down the staircases, Fred noticed that his jumper was back to front and had fixed it with a huff and a yawn, battling the wool over his wide shoulders.

"Told you, I'm starving," George replied vaguely with a shrug, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he turned away from Fred to conceal it.

They took a seat at the table and once again Fred complained as he saw hardly anyone up yet except for a few Ravenclaws huddled together on the other side, talking in hushed but excited whispers. Fred begrudgingly accepted a glass of pumpkin juice from George and simply looked at the few slices of toast in front of him, his stomach still asleep. So consumed by his tiredness he didn't even notice that George hadn't taken a bite of any food even after five minutes, despite his prior claims of being starving. Fred sat in a gloomy slump at the table, head in his hands and staring down at the table, if his eyes were open at all whereas George kept his eyes trained on the open door in a much more jovial mood.

"Morning," your voice rang out quietly but pleasantly. George had to physically place his hand over his mouth to conceal the laughter that was threatening to burst out of him watching Fred's reaction to your voice. It was like he'd been electrocuted or at least unknowingly stunned as his head shot up, elbow banging on the table as it slid off the edge of the wooden table as his head whipped up to look at your face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," you said with a timid smile and a little laugh before taking a seat beside George. You’d usually sit with the other Ravenclaws but as it was so quiet this morning you figured you would sit with the twins.

"You're up early," George says with a smile, offering you the jug of pumpkin juice, which you gladly accepted. Fred had said nothing but his pink cheeks were talking all by themselves, though you didn't seem to notice.

"Wanted to take a long walk around the grounds this morning," you reply after taking a sip of the juice that George had poured for you. "I've been trying to do more exercise lately... it's always so pretty in autumn so it's not as horrible getting up early."

"Why?" Fred says, finally speaking. He regrets it the instant your eyes fall upon him, realising that the word had tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think, his tone a little sharp and defensive, as if it was an unnatural thing to do. "I meant, about the exercise."

"Oh, well I guess it's good for my head," you explained, placing down your cup. "And the waist line, I feel like I put on a stone every term with how good the food is." George chuckles along, finally helping himself to the breakfast food in front of him but you notice that Fred hardly reacts.

"I know what you mean, if it wasn't for Quidditch I'd probably be the size of a troll."

Your laugh renders Fred even more speechless than he already was, so much so that he'd accepted his fate as forever mute at this point.

"Well thank Godric for Quidditch," you say with a smile. Fred doesn't miss the way your gaze suddenly flashes over him, most notably his arms as he lifts the cup to his lips, making him choke into his juice. It was the first time he'd ever noticed your gaze slip over him so obviously.

"Must be tough being a beater, those bludgers must be really heavy," you say, your gaze hardly moving from Fred's arms, up and across his shoulders before slipping down again. He couldn't believe you were looking at him like this, especially when your eyes travelled up to his face and you caught his eyes. You didn't look embarrassed or look away, simply gave him a playful smile before addressing his twin again as he replied to you. Fred was dreaming, he must be.

But the attention didn't stop. Fred didn't know what had changed that morning but he started noticing little things like how you'd catch his eye when you walked into a room, like you were seeking him out, or if he gazed over at you it was only time before you would look in his direction too. He no longer had to pretend that you were cheering the loudest for him at Quidditch matches because you actually were, and noticeably so. You still attended practice sessions infrequently but you no longer kept your head down and in your books, now you were actually watching the team practice, though it appeared you were really only concerned by one half of the beater duo.

George's plan had worked. Fred was in a good mood more consistently, played better during Quidditch as he was actually focused on the game and no longer trying to get your attention as he already had it. Sure he was still grouchy if another male approached you but he didn't feel quite as bad about it when you would seek him out mid conversation, as if you wished it to be him instead.

"I'm gonna ask her out," Fred says one night as they enter their dorm, throwing off his big jumper and leaving it on a pile on the floor beside his bed.

"Maybe you should wait until after this season mate, only two more matches to go if we carry on playing well," George says delicately, taking off his own jumper but instead choosing to fold it onto the chair beside his bed unlike his sloppy twin. He watches as Fred's face scrunches up in displeasure at his words but he doesn't immediately question them, taking time to think about it.

"Yeah maybe," Fred says eventually, reaching don under his bed to pull out the large tray of stock they had stashed, mainly the slicing snack box stuff.

The two of them restocked and replenished the stock they had on hand for a while, completely ignoring all homework before they slipped down to the common room later that night.

"Gonna check the potions," George whispers in Fred's ear before slipping off, leaving him with Lee in the common room.

If Fred noticed anything off about George when he gets back, he doesn’t mention it. But George can feel it, the sense of dread and guilt, exactly what he didn’t want to happen was coming to fruition. He realised then that he’d have to break it to Fred, admit what he’d done.

“You coming mate?” Fred asks, grabbing his quidditch stuff ready to head to the pitch but pauses when he sees George sat on his bed, not making an effort to move. He looks sad, distressed even.

“What’s up? You didn’t eat all those Bertie boys did you?”

“Fred,” George says quietly, eyes slowly rising up until he’s looking into the all too familiar eyes of his twin. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

For the first time in history, Fred and George Weasley weren’t speaking. It was their first proper fall out, first argument and the first time in history that they hadn’t been wandering the corridors of Hogwarts together, causing mayhem or mischief but no one knew why. The tension between the pair was awful for them and everyone around them. Then suddenly, they were back together again even though it was still tense and not at all like it was before, they found their way back to eachother.

“Y/n,” Fred says from behind you, pulling you away from your conversation as the Ravenclaw table, your friends looking on curiously as you turned with a smile to see Fred behind you looking a little nervous.

“Hi Freddie,” you say with a smile, having missed him.

“Can I borrow you?”

You nod, turning to your friends to say bye and got up from the table and followed him out of the Hall, thinking how strange he was acting. He leads you up the staircases with little explanation and manages to sneak you up into his dorm through the portrait hole, something you couldn’t believe he managed to do.

When you walked into his dorm, you saw George sitting on the bed you assumed to be his, the room a little untidy but not awful.

“George?” You say, worried about the sad look on his face. He gives you a little smile and a brief wave as Fred closes the door behind you.

“What’s a matter? What’s going off?” You say, looking between the two. Fred offers you a seat on the nearby bed you assume to be his and he sits beside you, both now looking nervously at George.

“George has something he wants to tell you,” Fred says, casting a rather harsh glare at his brother, tone sharp and resolute. George takes a deep breath, clearing his throat as he looks up at you.

“I,” he manages to get out, but shuts down the moment he opens his mouth, apparently losing all the words he needed.

“It’s okay Georgie,” you say gently, trying to give him confidence.

“No it’s not,” Fred retorts in a much harsher tone. Your head whips round to him and he softens as he looks at you.

“He’s been giving you love potion,” he says, nodding his head towards his guilt stricken twin. Your mouth falls open in disbelief, a frown pulling at your eyebrows as you try your hardest to think of how it was possible.

“But.”

“I didn’t really mean to,” George says weakly but quickly changes his wording when Fred’s glare increased threefold. “Okay I did but not with any malicious intent. He’s bloody obsessed with you and I couldn’t stand the pining anymore, it was insufferable. He wasn’t focusing when you were at Quidditch and I just wanted him to focus again so I thought if you gave him attention back then he’d have his head back in the game and it worked.”

“George!” You say completely outraged, in disbelief that he’d have actually done that. “Stop it right now! It’s not funny.”

He frowns at you briefly, just quick enough for you to see as he looks between you both.

“I haven’t given you any in over a week,” he says curiously, “I ran out last week.”

The room is silent after his reveal as you start to slowly realise that even if you had been given the love potion initially, being without it hadn’t actually changed your feelings of Fred.

“You’re obsessed with me?” You ask, turning to Fred who looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up.

“I wouldn’t have said obsessed… but yeah, I really fancy you,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes. It’s a split second decision that leads you to closing the gap between the two of you, legs touching as you scoot along his bed and slowly lean in to him, trying to gage his reaction. He doesn’t resist in the slightest and finally looks up into your eyes just long enough to realise what’s happening before your eyes close and your lips meet.

George slips out quietly with a pleased look on his face, knowing that everything would be alright in the end. He walks down to the little store room where they brew their potions and he smirks to himself when he sees the still very full cauldron of love potion simmering, the pearlescent pink glow radiating from it.

You’d believed him to easily, both you and Fred. And if he had to take the hit for a little while, it was worth it.

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[tearsonthemoons]

Talk to me - part one

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄༻✦༺⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Warning: (none) pure fluff.

Pairing: Finnick Odair x chubby reader

promt: You've always liked finnick odair, even before his reaping. while running into him while headed to the district market, you discover just how intense he makes you feel. (Multiple part story with a thick plot line.)

Finnick Odair, every girl in every districts boy crush, including mine.

My unfair advantage came with my look, I wasn't exactly what people would see as beautiful, quite the opposite of sex appeal. Though now it really is hard to be considered something appealing to the capital's eyes, or a handsome boy in our district. Finnick couldn't relate, he’s what every boy wants to look like and what every girl wants to get their hands on.

I had fallen victim of his charm.

I was a tough girl though, I never let boys get in the way. Then again, I’ve never ran into a situation where i needed to try and prevent this either.

I have never been chased by a boy, never desired. I'm not a capital jewel, or even a pretty district girl. Somehow even being short of food, my body seemed bigger than the average girl in my district, or any district. I have larger arms, wider hips, and my thighs weren't small by any means either, I never do feel ashamed of my body, It's not like i'll be showing it off to anyone.

"Y/n?" I heard my mother call, interrupting my thoughts. I'm sure she was just planning to send to into the town to sell off her pearls for something to put on the table. I was already lacing up my boots in preparation for the 3 miles of walking i'd have to do.

I walk down the hall and greet my tired mother with a small peck on the cheek. "On it." I say pushing through our faulty door and heading my usual direction into the town.

With each step I took through the forest on the patchy trial, Finnick was in my mind, Though he had won the hunger games for our district at only 14, he’s never failed to come back home from his capitol "duties", Were older now though, no longer teenagers, he has more freedom of where he calls home. I never knew finnick well enough to talk about him in depth, unless it was about his alluring looks anyways. In school he was typically pulling pranks on other students and teachers, but he never did get in trouble, It was probably his manners, he was always kind, despite being a little wild.

I remember being 12 years old, walking this same path home, only I had company, with this kind boy, finnick, no particular reason, he just happened to be talking my ear off the whole time, whether it was about fish he could catch, or how he liked the color of my hair. I enjoyed his presence, He only did walk with me a few more time after that, I wasn't too cooperative to the talking part, I never even told him my true name, "What's your name then?" he said, I smiled, and that was all. Then all of a sudden I was "Bugs".

I sure it was because of my beetle charm, but he never did specify why he had called me this.

By the time these thoughts had consumed my mind, I was a but over halfway there, passing my old school already, each step crushed with the sounds of leafs. It was chilly out, the wind was blowing my hair in my face, I was thankful for the scarf my mother made me wear on my way. The crunching of the leafs were soothing my ears. Until I began to hear the crunches follow behind me. Who was there? was I being followed? robbed? I came to a quick turn expecting to be frightened, but to my surprise, the blonde headed boy who was in my thoughts all this time was following behind me.

what was finnick doing here?

I headed a bit towards him, a friendly smile was on his face, or maybe a devious smirk, I really couldn't tell. "Hey there." he said taking steps closer to me, I was able to identify his smile, it was devious.

I almost didn't respond to him like I didn't all those years ago, but his greeting was to alluring to avoid. My heart nearly left my chest, "Hi" I said with a smile back. All I could manage to get out was that before I turned around keeping myself on my same path to my destination, still being slightly ahead of him.

I heard him speed up a bit to walk beside me, his tall and broad frame next to me was enough to understand why so many girls wanted him. Handsome is all I can say. "Headed to town?" he said turning his body to mine, still keeping the same pace as before. a smile on his face as he looked at me. "Yes, trading pearls for my mother." I said holding out the pretty pearl in my hand for him to see. It was strange having finnick odair, capitals charmer walking with me into the town, but then again, we've called the same place home for years, it's not like he's lost or anything.

"Pretty pearls you got their Bug." he said with a slight giggling placing the pearl back into my hand, I stopped in my tracks realizing he had recognized me. Why did he recognize me? Some random girl that ignored him on his way home from school? It wasn't adding up and I tried to piece it together shooting him a puzzled look. "You remember me?" I said with a near stutter in my voice, furrowing my brows a bit more as he shared a chuckle out loud, his smile lines complimenting his oddly white teeth.

"Hmm" he said turning to walk again, "How could I forget that pretty hair." he said with another laugh, It was almost sarcastic. even if he was being sarcastic, at least he remembered me, because he's been stuck in my mind since I first formed my crush on him at only 12. I turn and continue to walk with him, a few moments of silence and crunching leafs consume my ears. I was waiting for him to talk to me again, or think of something I could say to him, but it was just quite, aside from his little whistle he kept repeating.

"I'm going to donate my fish to the market today, join me?" he said as we took our last few steps into the town, It was a relief he had invited me, though I had things to do, I'm sure a few more minutes in the towns wouldn't uphold my mother's dinner plan to much. besides, what harm could a nice even with Finnick do?

I can't help but smile a bit, bringing his face to look at mine. "Why not." I say following him further. Surely a few more minutes with him wouldn't delay my mother's dinner plans to terribly.

We make our final approaching steps reaching an old ladies market, she typically trade shiny goods for meats, but Finnick wasn't trading, just offering. "Here you are lilith." he said placing what seemed to be a small bag of trouts in front of the old lady, her hands were shaking as she pulled out a shiny locket from her pocket. I had recognized this jewel, She's always had it on displayed, offered to me for food a few times, I was never able to take no matter how pretty I thought it was. I looked back at finnick, a smile on his face as he shook his head at the old woman, for a second I forgot that finnick probably had endless supplies of these pretty lockets. "For free lilith, Keep it." he said closing the locket in her hands, the woman shook her head back at him in response. "Take it dear, there's no harm." she said trying to hand it to him, my eyes were obviously glued to the pretty necklace, but I was distracted enough to see him actually take it from the woman though, I looked over at him, his eyes were darting back and forth from the necklace to my neck.

"Okay lilith, but only for the lady." He said kissing her hand and sharing a soft smile with her. I could feel the warmth of my face forming a pink color on my cheeks, I looked at him not only being so nice to this woman, but receiving me a necklace I've wanted for years. I smile at him as we leave the old women's booth.

"For you." he said holding the necklace up, dangling in front of my eyes, I drank in its golden beauty. "Thank you Finnick." I said gently grabbing it from him, my fingers tracing over the flower detail on the necklace capsule, it was almost shiney enough to see my reflection in it. He had his hands behind his back now, watching me admire it.

"Here, let me." he said taking the necklace back in his hand and walking behind me. I could feel my stomach form knots, tight ones, seeing him disappear behind me, I pulled my longish hair up in my hands, allowing his to go around my neck, gently picking up the other end of the necklace, his hand faintly touching the crook of my neck, It was enough to send shivers now my spine. I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck now, I wonder if he could see the goosebumps on my neck. the locket fell down over my scarf, It was beautiful. Finnick was back in front of me with a smile, hands on the base of the locket. "Pretty, isn't it?" he said looking back up at me.

I could tell the seconds of my delayed response nearly made it obvious how I was feeling, his lips being slightly parted and his eyes wide in expression made me want to kiss him. I've never wanted to kiss a boy this way before. I couldn't say anything, just stare. A cough came through his throat interrupting my thoughts. "Here." he said unraveling my scarf from my neck gently, my hair fell onto my shoulders, the necklace falling down decently low, resting right above my chest. "Very pretty." he said smiling quickly before turning away from my face walking towards the direction of another booth, me tagging along. Was he talking about the necklace alone? or the necklace on me? was all that was running through my mind. my scarf was still in his hands, him holding onto it for me. I was swooning, my eyes trying their best to not stare at him.

When we arrive at the booth, I pick up some bread to eat for dinner, the pearl didn't get too much, but this would still feed us. We walk toward the path we took to get here, not saying anything since his compliment to the necklace he got me. I start to walk down the path and notice hes standing still not trying to follow.

"This is where I'm off." he said smiling down at me. A disappointment filled me, Even in silence, I liked spending time with him. "You aren't coming?" I said causing his smile to fade a bit. "Not today." he said slightly defeated. I smile at him, "Thank you." I said with another almost stutter in my voice. "I've always wanted this necklace, thank you finnick." I said, I wanted to give him a hug, something was drawing me to him, but I just sat there not being able to. "I'm glad you like it." he said, his soft laugh teasing at my heart again. We both smile at this, I know I looked like a love smitten fool at this point, like all those pretty district girl would look at him even if he were to just walk by.

"Bye now." I said turning away and walking down the path a few steps more.

"Bye!" he shouted a bit so I would hear him, the smile on my face growing bigger than it has all day, now that I was hidden from his frontal few, I had nothing to try and hide. The walk home was slow and boring, finnicks pretty smile and warm eyes on my mind all the way until I walked through my wooden door.

"You're back late" my mom said receiving the bread from my hands and putting it down on our dining table. The smile hadn't left my face just yet, leaving her to notice it. "What's that about?" she said with a soft grin, nuding my shoulder.

"Nothing important, just ran into an old friend." I said sitting down at the dining table with her, cutting the bread with the knife I had stored away in my jeans.

"Just a friend." I whispered, her eyes on my locket. "Your friend sure does like you if he happened to get you that expensive necklace, that thing could get us all kinds of bread and meat." She said pulling the necklace into her cold hands.

I stopped chewing to look at her again, "Well, this one's not for sale." I said pulling it from her hands, gently holding it in mine. "hm." left her lips, I could tell by the suspicion in her eye's that she might have figured out it wasn't someone I wanted to call a friend.

"We'll seen then." she said smiling while getting up from her chair. "You do need to go back tomorrow anyways." she said.

I didn't respond, only a sense of excitement filling my gut, maybe I would see him again.

Maybe I could truly thank him.

Word count: 3.3k 

[paperphobe]

Im tired of the debate about criminal minds and it’s lack of consistency, I’m making the official decision that Aaron Hotchner was born in 1965! 

I just spent a freakish amount of time crafting up a general timeline of his (very crowded) career and life in general based on his birth year being 1965 and I think it works. 

Apologies for any inaccuracies in advance, I know nothing about any of these jobs or the American education system, and I haven’t slept in almost two days so this could very likely be absolute nonsense. 

The most recent birthday shown in the show for Hotch is November 2, 1965. Because of this, and the fact that it logically makes more sense (I will explain later). 

Hotch was born on November 2, 1965 in Virginia.

This means that Hotch would have started kindergarten, in 1971 because of his late birthday. This also makes sense with Haley’s age reportedly being a year younger when the show had him born in 1971 and her in 1972 according to the wiki. Not sure when/if this is mentioned in the show and I cannot bring myself to look for it.

From the very confusing sources i found online, from the start of school to high school graduation in Virginia is 13 years. Kindergarten then grades 1 through 12, totalling 13 years of schooling. 

This means he graduates high-school in 1984. This is consistent with Emily having been born in 1970 and graduating high-school in 1989. 

Let’s say he did a three year undergrad as most undergraduate programs are 3-4 years long. He graduates in 1987, writes his LSATs then attends Law school. 

Law school takes another three years which brings us to 1990. 

I don’t think that internships or apprenticeships are required but to be safe let’s just say he started working as an intern of sorts at some point during his last year of law school. 

We know hotch is highly intelligent, has a lawyer father and it’s implied he comes from money. So it would take no significant time for him to find himself a good position and begin working as a prosecutor very quickly. 

Let’s say he worked as a prosecutor for 4 years before he decided it wasn’t enough and he wanted to catch killers instead. 

He was a sharpshooter for SWAT at some point according to some notes on his character, and a mention in season one. He clearly is a VERY good shot as seen in  4x5 and 9x3 so I’ll say he spent about a year doing that before he made his way to the Seattle field office in 1995.

He was the case agent for the Womb Raider case in 1997 and that is when he met Rossi. 

Rossi had been retired approximately 10 years before making his return in 2007, and Hotch and Rossi are implied to have worked in the same BAU office. Let’s say Hotch transferred to the Quantico Office sometime soon after that case, worked with Rossi until about 1998, leaving Gideon in charge. 

That means that in season one (2005) Hotch had approximately 7 years in the Quantico BAU, 10 years in the BAU total, add his time in SWAT and that is about 11 years total in the field. 

Plus his 4 years or so as a prosecutor and he has 15 years (approx) in a law related field. 

Though it’s never specified when Hotch became the unit chief he is referred to as such in the first season. So I think the most logical and most common theory is that Gideon stepped down after the bombing (occurred in 2005 according to the wiki) and Hotch took on the role as, besides Gideon, he has the most experience as a profiler. I don’t know exactly how long it would realistically take one to become a unit chief, but this explains why Hotch would hold the position regardless of his age or years in the bureau. Plus the BAU was still relatively “new” compared to other units, so Hotch would likely be first choice to lead regardless, given his experience. 

Hotch being born in 1965 would make him 40 years old in the first season.

Nameless, Faceless says he is 43 on his patient chart, the patient chart was shown after he was identified. Nameless, faceless takes place in 2009, and we can safely assume that this is before his birthday because Haley is killed November 25th of that same year, many episodes later but not even a month after Hotch has his 44th birthday. 

There are a couple small issues plot wise with him being born in 1965. Primarily with the way his relationships with Sean and Haley are described. 

Haley and Hotch were highschool sweethearts, they met in junior year and there has never been any indication that they have been separated for any reason since. Theories about a break in college, or while Hotch was in Seattle have no canon evidence behind them and are just theories. The idea that Kate Joyner and Hotch hooked up (“liaised”) is also not confirmed and results purely from jokes made by the BAU team and the fact that Haley and Kate look alike so we should just discard any separation theories. 

The divorce papers say they were married in 2000 and then divorced 8 years later in 2008. Which means they would have dated for about 16/17 years before getting married and 5 years later having a child. Though to most this is probably a bit unconventional considering both Hotch and Haley seemed to want a very typical nuclear family, white picket fence, kids, stay at home mom, yada yada type of situation. But the idea that they didn’t want to get engaged right during Aarons undergrad/law school isn’t far fetched, they might have gotten engaged during his 4 year period as a prosecutor, but delayed the wedding because he was in Seattle and maybe she wasn’t. I find this and the career timeline more probable than Hotch being younger, with a crunched career timeline and 10/11 years before he married Haley.

As Haley would have been 40 when Jack was born, it’s very realistic to say they could have wanted to try for a baby any time after the marriage and it might have just taken longer because of her age. 

Now the Sean plot hole is not explainable. Sean is about 25 in the first season, we don’t know his birth year but a year difference in this math won’t change the outcome. We know Hotch is 40 in season one. This means Sean is 15 years younger than Hotch. Yet in Brothers Hotchner, Aaron claims he was sent off to boarding school when Sean was in the 1st (I think) grade. Which is not possible with a 15 year age gap. 

I could be somewhat more possible if Hotch was born in 1971, as it would mean Sean was born in 1980 and would be 10 years old when Hotch graduates high school in 1990 so the boarding school stuff would make a lot more sense here. But this is really the only thing that birth-year makes accurate. So we can probably just write this off as another criminal minds inconsistency that has to be ignored instead of explained. 

This took me multiple hours of surface level research so it certainly could be wrong, it’s just what I’m assuming based of the most probable and most canon things. Also the fact that him being born in 1971 makes him YOUNGER than Emily, and I’m not sure if it’s explicitly said he is older than her or not, but it’s heavily implied. Also 1965 makes him a lot closer to Thomas Gibsons age, and since Hotchs age isn’t really relevant to anything in the actual show itself they probably just gave him a generic “he’s around TG’s age” typa thing until they had to give him a birth year. Which they also didn’t really care about enough to keep consistent. 

Once again, really basic google searches and my overtired brains recollection of details in the show are what provided me with the information used in this. So corrections are welcomed. 

I assumed that Virginia schools start kids in school based on if they were born before or after September as I think many American schools tend to do that. It also made sense with Haley’s birth year so I let myself go with that assumption. That’s not how schools and ages work where I live so I hope I did that correctly. I also saw that there was only a year of kindergarten and then grades 1-12 (also not how it’s done where I live) so that could be all wrong. Or he could have gone to some fancy school and started or finished early. Who knows, who cares. It’s too hard to think about. 

Also assumed that he didn’t need an internship or placement post law school. 

Here is a non-detailed version:

Born: November 2, 1965

Started school: 1971

Schooling (13yrs): 1971-1984

3 year undergrad: 1984-1987

Law school (3yrs): 1987-1990 

Prosecutor: 1990-1994

Swat sharpshooter: 1994-1995

Seattle: 1995 - 1997/8

Quantico BAU: 1997/8 - 2005

Unit chief BAU: 2005 and we know what happens after that 

[metanarrates]

What do you think about how most people summarize orv's themes as love. I saw one of your reblogs about how it's too simplified for other works?

my general opinion is that saying "x is about love" is usually too damn vague as an analysis. while love is not a universal emotion (shoutout to loveless aros,) it's a common enough human experience that I really think that you need to specify what ABOUT love is being explored. is this a work about the depths of love? is it about the transformative potential of love? there are a thousand different ways love can manifest, and about a billion different ways a story can offer insight on the nature of love. I think it doesn't do justice to a story if you're not specifying what exactly it has to say about love.

all that out of the way, yes. many of orv's major themes are about love. specifically, it relates the love a reader has for a story to the love that a person can have for another human being. a story, like a person, can contain depths unknown to both author and reader - it is impossible to ever reach a complete understanding. there is always some element that will be impossible to communicate. something left hidden behind a wall.

but you can love that story, that person, anyway. you can offer your own interpretations, and try to understand as best you can. and the love and effort you put in matters deeply. the way that you can affect other human beings, specifically, matters deeply. even if it seems like your efforts will never reach that person, even if they are justifiably hurt by your efforts, even if your interpretations are wrong, even if you are the sole reader of a story. it matters that you were there and tried to love it as best you could.

orv also has a lot to say about love, self-sacrifice, and salvation. kim dokja's love of the story and his companions is a major motivator to why he destroys himself over and over. it's paralleled to his own mother, who sacrificed herself for his sake, and who he resented all his life and yet can't stop making the same choice when it comes to the safety of others. that sort of love and salvation hurts as much as it saves. it's as selfish as it is selfless. it's the same choice his companions make in order to get him back. they love him. they would be able to live with his resentment and guilt if it meant he would survive.

kim dokja's love for yoo joonghyuk, specifically, is both selfish and selfless. it is his love for yoo joonghyuk that was (unintentionally) responsible for much of yoo joonghyuk's suffering. the choices kim dokja makes out of love are what mitigate yoo joonghyuk's suffering, and eventually are what allows him to free himself from his eternal cycle. again, it is the love a reader has for a story, and the way that a reader both craves conflict and craves for the characters they love to overcome it.

it is the same love that drives yoo joonghyuk and han sooyoung to repeat the cycle again, as a choice this time. selfishly and selflessly. han sooyoung damns the world to apocalypse because she wished to save kim dokja's life. yoo joonghyuk chooses both regressions and his time in space to grasp at the chance to keep kim dokja alive. neither of their choices is guaranteed to save him. they know that. love alone isn't enough to save someone. but they make this choice because they love him, knowing that he would hate the choice. they create the story together because they want their sole reader to be understood by it.

and that's the end theme of orv's meditations on love and the nature of stories. if you love a story enough that it saves you... well, perhaps it's possible that the story, too, loves you back.

none of this is easy to describe in a sentence. I agree that it's probably easier to just say "orv is about love?" but I wish more people identified it further beyond that, since that usually is where the discussion just stops. I find orv's discussions on love to be some of the most compelling presentations on the topic that I've ever seen in fiction, and I like discussing it! i want to treat it with the complexity that it deserves.

[genichisojo]

Kagurabachi's Popularity: Familiarity Through Structure

Having a degree in writing and media is so fun because I can write an essay on why Kagurabachi can be defined as well written through craft standards and attribute its popularity overseas to its structure, which is framed similarly to western movies.

And I am!

After this interview confirmed that Takeru Hokazono, author of Kagurabachi, is a huge fan of western films, I went back to this idea I was playing with in October when KB had less than ten chapters. I had been reading since day one, and I knew it was good, and other overseas fan knew it was good. But what made it so good to us, overseas?

I made a quick thread on it on my Twitter account (that I never posted) where I mentioned Blake Snyder's Save the Cat book on script writing and story structure. I also brought up characterization and how it would've been really popular in my comic book class from undergrad. This thread discussed both Chihiro and Sojo, and the quick yet steady pace of the manga has given us more characters and moments to pinpoint. To not overwhelm myself, I'm not going to discuss the craft of characterization (maybe another time), and I'm not going to do a beat sheet for Sojo. For now, I'll try to stay under the first arc to map out why Kagurabachi has so far moved like a high budget film in manga form. So, spoilers ahead!

A quick lesson on Save the Cat, its three main characteristics are: Three act structure Fifteen plot beats Mostly applied to American Hollywood films

One of the biggest things I noticed right away was the resemblance a lot of the chapters, even the story as a whole, had to Snyder's beat sheet. This beat sheet that comes from Snyder's book is somewhat of an industry standard, so a lot of movies, even those that preceded Snyder, go through this structure of Act 1, 2, and 3. Snyder just identified the parts and broke them down to fifteen beats. Plus he dubbed the save the cat moment:

A decisive moment in which a protagonist demonstrates they are worth rooting for. Having the protagonist save a cat can be literal or figurative.

This was something KB needed and did have to have us warm up to Chihiro who post time skip, just gave gloomy orphan energy in the previous chapters. Here, Char would be our cat. Chihiro chose to save Char and chose to protect her, and continued to fight for her until she was rescued. He made this choice even before it's revealed that Char's mother died for her, something that would parallel Chihiro. This is what got readers to see him three dimensionally after being introduced to him. He's still the caring little 14 year old we saw at the start, who continues to take care of the innocent despite the tragedy he's been through. It is only natural for us to care for him, too.

Above are the fifteen beats of Save the Cat and although KB on occasion doesn't hit all fifteen exactly as specified, especially final image as it's continuing, the song and dance is quite similar. Here are examples of The Dark Knight (2008) and Inglourious Basterds (2009), two movies that have inspired Hokazono's work.

Before Chihiro meets Char, we get his opening image of him and his dad forging which is works well as the entire story revolves on the consequences of them creating weapons. We get the set up to his world where he lives with his dad who made famous katanas that wield the power to end a war. The theme is stated, and it's not kept a secret: The katanas they make are weapons made to kill people. Are they willing to carry the burden? In another variation of this question, is Chihiro willing to carry the burdens unintentionally passed down by his father?

The catalyst is his father's murder that catapults him into seeking revenge and recover the katanas.

Now, for the rest of the story, this structure can be applied to the first 18 chapters or even 1-3 chapters at a time which in my opinion, is kind of insane. There's story telling inside the story telling, and these moments are both subtle and grand, signs of a strong and captivating writer. Hollywood would kill for a script like this these days. In order to get you to believe me how prominent these beats are, I'm going to do arc one and Daruma's story. The main story line should be around act one and two right now as of chapter 20, if we want to get down into it, but if anything, this feels like it's moving like a second "movie."

Overall, this structure that comes from Hollywood movies can be identified in multiples parts of Kagurbachi's storytelling. I was going to do beat sheet's for Char and Sojo's stories as well, but I think this is enough of an example of a bigger picture versus smaller. Although other mangas also fall into three act structures, as most story telling does, KB masterfully uses the 15 beats to its advantage. I believe the familiarity of this pace is what hooked oversea audiences, and aside from that, the characters that quickly capture us.

Very quickly, because I don't want to make this about characterization, Chihiro is well written through his past, who he chooses to kill and save, his dialogue that can be surprisingly vulnerable at times, and his cool façade that melts because of how hot he truly runs. He is also straight up a badass. We get handed Char's background in an "all is lost" segment as well as some lore that can present her as a resource for the main cast. We see Azami's phone background photo that's minimum 3+ years old- a government employee with a soft spot for his friends, one who he is still clearly grieving. We get one tiny yet so fucked up bit of Sojo when we see him get a flashback where he's a child and his single dialogue of "I truly love Kunishige Rokuhira," that launched his type of villainy in the maniacal fanboy category. Who does it like that? Nobody but Takeru Hokazono.

Thank you for reading this essay! I do have two other essays drafted, one on Sojo's possible return (I'm a delusional Sojo fan) and just his overall significance and impact as the first villain even if he doesn't return, and on Hiyuki plus servant leadership versus self service.

[cryptidsncurios]

AU: ARE YOU LYCAN MY STYLE

a.k.a.

Xigbar is a Werewolf in this One and As Usual There’s a Lot To Unpack So Get Ready Kids

[[bio subject to change/additions if necessary]]

Name: Designated Luxu, and has changed names throughout the course of time. Currently goes by “Xigbar”

Age: Exact age unknown, but like... old af

Birthdate: Year unknown, but he remembers May 22nd from way back, so sure, that's it now

Creation Location: Modernly the Russian region, exact location unknown

Ethnicity: Modernly identifies as Russian, possibly half something else, but uncertain

Languages: English, Russian, West Slavic languages, and plenty of bits and pieces of various other languages

Height: Human form - 6′0" (About 183 cm) ; Wolf form - Approx. 9ft fully standing (About 274 cm)

Weight: Human -180-ish lbs (About 82-ish kg) ; Wolf form - Uhhh Heavy. :|

Race: Lycan

Sex / Gender: Cisgender Male

Sexual / Romantic Orientation: Pansexual / Demiromantic

History:

Perhaps Luxu had always been what he was---something a little more than a werewolf, but nonetheless a captive of the moon's power.

His pack consisted of a strange bunch---referred to as the "Foretellers"---always in robes and masks, and under the tutelage of he who was called "Master of Masters." They were magical, the lot of them, including Luxu---ancient and terrifying. Mortals that knew of their existence feared and revered them, as though they were something close to deities, and would clamor for their benevolence and protection.

But after some time of roaming the world, far into the east, the Master gave them each an important "Role"---Roles that would dictate the future, though he never specified exactly how, and each were told in secret from the others---and Luxu was no different. He was tasked with observing the evolution of mankind---and that, amongst them, one amongst the pack would turn traitorous towards their Role.

Thus Luxu was given the Gazing Eye---that which had belonged to the Master himself, then horrifically implanted into his right eye---and when the pain had finally subsided, he found himself alone, left with nothing more than his Role and his intuition as his guide.

And so he wandered the vast world, traveling ever-westward from what would some day be called "Russia," the years ticking by. Despite the curses he carried---both his lycanthropy and the Eye that so often plagued him with its agonies---he attempted to adapt to a normal lifestyle, trying to blend in with the blossoming human population as best as he could.

Each attempt ended in failure.

Whether due to the still-uncontrollable violence of the Wolf within him, or his extended lifespan, all of his efforts were for naught. And with no companions with which he could share his life, and no chance for him to have a family due to his biology, Luxu was cast into utter despair. Attempts were made to cease this despair---but even that was impossible.

Thus, he continued his traveling and his aching, adopting new aliases and seeking purpose beyond his Role that he had come to see as an eternal hell on earth.

Adopting the identity of "Braig" in the mid-1900s, serendipity seemingly led him to what would become his life for several decades: joining the growing pack of a lycan named "Xehanort."

Xehanort had a family of his own already, kin that he had created from human-shaped dolls called "Replicas," with the assistance of an associate named Even (who would, eventually, be the second to have the Bite befall him, after Dilan and before Aeleus). These beings created from the Replicas were dubbed his "sons," named Xemnas the Superior (idk how ansem will fit into this but whatevs, i might figure it out later??), Ansem the Seeker, and the Young One. (again idk listen this can change.)

Braig---dubbed "Xigbar" upon his entry into the fold---was the first outsider to join (and intrigued Xehanort with what he could sense was powerful lycanthropy, thus his allowance into the pack), followed by Xaldin, Vexen, and etc, all the way to Roxas.

Vexen then furthered his experiments with the Replicas at the behest of Xehanort---though, despite his passion for scientific research, became acutely suspicious that Xehanort's plans were moving beyond simply making their "family" a tad larger.

And of course, Xigbar had been aware of Xehanort's malice from the beginning.

Once perfected, he intended use his magical prowess to absorb all the abilities and power that he had granted and nurtured within the rest of the pack, and combine it with the Replicas---to create terrifying werewolves that could probably destroy anything in their path.

Because, like... world domination, or whatever. Or maybe to balance out werewolves to humans. There's definitely some kind of Prophecy involved but.. Like, this is Xehanort, does it really have to make sense? Nah, it just has to work.

In the end, aside the 'Nort family, the pack worked together---Xigbar included---and destroyed all of the Replicas, and each and every trace of research was stolen away by Vexen---to which location it was delivered to remain forever a secret. (It was at this point that, from one of the Replicas was tainted with Xigbar's spilled blood, and thus Xion ( @perditos )---basically his daughter---was created, and taken under the control of Vexen for even further study, with Xigbar's DNA tampered through, y'know, science-y stuff. But that is something he would have to deal with in the future...)

Plans thwarted, Xehanort and his family retreated to who-knows-where, and the pack dissolved, each of them going their own ways.

And so Xigbar exists in Salem, MA these days---just chillin', I s'pose.

...At least, until he has to deal with the next living nightmare.

World Notes:

This is the kind of world where everything fantastical exists. Therefore, ethereal beings, mythical monsters, and all creatures that are a part of global lore are real in this universe, and have been around for as far as history recalls. However, they’ve all had to adapt over time to fit into the ways of the modern world, no longer exactly feared and revered as they used to be. So catch your vampires working at your local 24-hour gas station during the nightshift, forest nymphs tending to the gardening section of the hardware store, and—for the G.aiman fans—djinns driving taxi cabs in the big city. To the untrained eye, though, they’re just people like anyone else.

Werewolf Rules:

There are actually an array of forms of lycanthropy that differ from the type of curse that Xigbar himself has, with their individual quirks. Xigbar's particular lycanthropic curse is unique in that his Bites are instantaneously fatal, as his birth with the Master and the Foretellers is quite mysterious in origin. However, other forms of lycanthropy will turn others through the Bite (such as Xehanort and his clan), but only if the victim of the attack survives. Often werewolf attacks prove lethal due to their viciously venemous nature, but those with strong blood and resolve will recover, albeit now burdened with the curse.

Initially, the transformations of newly-born werewolves are uncontrollable and completely dictated by the moon, victims of the curse thrown into a mindless, frenzied state, starving only for a release from their bloodlust. However, over time and through force of will, one can control their urges during the full moon metamorphoses, and—eventually—engage in transformations at will, even without the aid of the moon’s power (Xigbar's ability is at this point, due to his experience). In the end, though, a metamorphosis must take place during the full moon.

No matter their age, however, transformations still take a physical toll, and depending on how long they’ve been transformed, time equivalent must be taken to recuperate.

Werewolves are usually grouped into families or packs. Within families, usually there is an understood hierarchy, but when wolves from different families, unrelated by blood, form a pack, this often causes an innate power struggles for dominance—hence the creation of ranks.

The particular form of lycanthropy Xigbar has rendered him sterile, so he's just a lonely lil fella from here on out. :(

The number one weakness of werewolves as a whole? Silver. (And, hilariously, Xigbar himself has a whole cache of silver bullets—just in case he has to deal with any unwanted guests.)

There is no known cure for the lycanthropic curse.

Odds and Ends:

Xigbar has studied a slew of religions and spiritual beliefs, but ultimately, he has become somewhat enamored of Paganism. The deities he occasionally pays tribute to are Jarilo (a Slavic deity) and Dionysus (Greek), both of which are closely tied in origin—and he likes them because they’re just overall pretty chill in his book. He also admires Artemis, due to her association with archery, the hunt, and the moon.

He jokingly identifies as a Vědmák, even though it’s not completely accurate, but it still gives him a chuckle.

Originally incredibly skilled with a bow, Xigbar has updated his skill to firearms, and—as always—is an amazing shot.

He currently semi-resides in Salem, MA, due to New England’s rather magical leanings drawing him there.

[[more to be added]]

[mariana-oconnor]

The Three Students pt 1

Three of them? Are they medical students, because we've already discussed how disturbing that gets.

It was in the year '95 that a combination of events, into which I need not enter, caused Mr. Sherlock Holmes and myself to spend some weeks in one of our great University towns...

Is he withholding the name of the town for its protection?

It will be obvious that any details which would help the reader to exactly identify the college or the criminal would be injudicious and offensive.

Oh, he is.

Honestly Oxford and Cambridge, and probably most of the other universities, had the resources to sue him to hell and back for libel, so that might be a wise course of action. Other universities were available, but there were only about 12 universities in Britain at that time, and he specifies they were spending weeks in the town, so it won't be the University of London. That leaves (in age order): Oxford, Cambridge, St Andrews, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Edinburgh, Durham, Belfast, Cork, Galway, Manchester, or Cardiff. The University of Wales would only have been 2 years old in 1895, so Cardiff probably wouldn't count as a 'great' university town. Honestly, I don't know if anything from Durham onwards would have been regarded as 'great' because they were all founded in the 1800s. Durham would have been over 60 years old, does that count as a 'great university town' to Watson? I don't know.

Honestly, he's probably leaving it vague so people can project their own biases onto it. The rivalries between universities are longstanding.

He's never specified leaving anything out to prevent offence before, though. Like, maybe he changes the names, but he's never specified anything, and has a few times referred to people being aware of things from the papers. I think it really shows Watson's priorities here that he's obscuring the information in this one especially when he's published other people's dirty laundry for all the world to see.

“I trust, Mr. Holmes, that you can spare me a few hours of your valuable time. We have had a very painful incident at St. Luke's, and really, but for the happy chance of your being in the town, I should have been at a loss what to do.”

The more they talk about how painful and scandalous the incident is, the more convinced I am that I will not find it particularly painful or scandalous. But I may be wrong.

Also, the fact that we're referring to colleges does narrow it down a bit. As far as I know, most universities in the UK don't have a collegiate system. Oxford and Cambridge do, St Andrews does (on a smaller scale, I believe), Aberdeen does (similarly to St Andrews, only 3, I think), and Durham does. I don't think Edinburgh and Glasgow have colleges in the same way, and I can't find any evidence that they used to in a quick bit of internet searching.

The fact that Holmes was looking into English Charters makes me think that this is probably in England, though, not Scotland, so I'm still thinking Oxford or Cambridge, or possibly Durham, but less likely as it's a newer university.

"...this is just one of those cases where, for the credit of the college, it is most essential to avoid scandal."

Oh boy, I already don't like these people. I smell cover-up all over this. I can feel the outrage already starting to brew inside me and we don't even know what's happened yet.

"My subject is Greek, and the first of the papers consists of a large passage of Greek translation which the candidate has not seen. This passage is printed on the examination paper, and it would naturally be an immense advantage if the candidate could prepare it in advance."

Is this a cheating scandal? Seriously?

Also, I assume it's taken from an extant Greek text, so surely there's always a chance that that student will have studied that text in their own time as part of their reading? They presumably have access to the university library, which presumably contains texts in Ancient Greek?

"The only duplicate which existed, so far as I knew, was that which belonged to my servant, Bannister, a man who has looked after my room for ten years, and whose honesty is absolutely above suspicion."

Nobody is above suspicion.

"I found that the key was indeed his, that he had entered my room to know if I wanted tea, and that he had very carelessly left the key in the door when he came out."

A likely story.

"The proof was in three long slips. I had left them all together. Now, I found that one of them was lying on the floor, one was on the side table near the window, and the third was where I had left it.”

That's just incompetence. You didn't even try to leave them close to where you found them, unknown interloper? Come on. You're better than this. You must have some brains.

"A large sum of money is at stake, for the scholarship is a very valuable one, and an unscrupulous man might very well run a risk in order to gain an advantage over his fellows."

So this is for a scholarship? So probably not a spoilt little rich kid. Unless it is a spoilt little rich kid who can't be bothered to do the work.

“Bannister was very much upset by the incident. He had nearly fainted when we found that the papers had undoubtedly been tampered with."

Bannister knows who did it. He's probably related to them. He let them in.

“This was not all. I have a new writing-table with a fine surface of red leather. I am prepared to swear, and so is Bannister, that it was smooth and unstained. Now I found a clean cut in it about three inches long—not a mere scratch, but a positive cut. Not only this, but on the table I found a small ball of black dough, or clay, with specks of something which looks like sawdust in it."

...This I do not understand. The cheater stopped to do some arts and crafts? They clearly were cutting something, but what's the clay for? Putty eraser? Some weird way of making a copy?

"Either I must find the man or else the examination must be postponed until fresh papers are prepared, and since this cannot be done without explanation there will ensue a hideous scandal, which will throw a cloud not only on the college, but on the University."

Yeah, I was right. I don't consider this particularly scandalous. You could totally make up an excuse why the exam needs to be changed at the last minute, and even if you didn't I still don't think 'someone peeked at the answers' is the kind of scandal that could bring an entire university into disrepute. But what do I know? I'm sitting here in the future where there's an entire industry of students paying other people to write essays for them and if they don't want to pay they can just get an AI to write it instead.

"Had anyone visited you in your room after the papers came to you?” “Yes; young Daulat Ras, an Indian student who lives on the same stair, came in to ask me some particulars about the examination.”

Fingers crossed - please don't be racist. please don't be racist. please don't be racist.

Of course, that's only one student, according to the title there are three.

“Where is Bannister now?” “He was very ill, poor fellow. I left him collapsed in the chair."

Yeah, he knows something. He's got to.

“Well,” said he, “let us go round. Not one of your cases, Watson—mental, not physical. All right; come if you want to."

This bit made me laugh. Has Watson just been sitting there watching you pore over obscure English charters for hours, Holmes? And how many times has he come with you when nothing physical needed doing? But no, this isn't one of his cases.

“Dear me!” said Holmes, and he smiled in a singular way as he glanced at our companion. “Well, if there is nothing to be learned here we had best go inside.”

Clearly there was something to be learned there and Holmes is being smug about finding it when no one else has realised.

It was a small pyramid of black, putty-like stuff, exactly like the one upon the table of the study. Holmes held it out on his open palm in the glare of the electric light. “Your visitor seems to have left traces in your bedroom as well as in your sitting-room, Mr. Soames.”

OK, now it's a scandal. You really shouldn't be having students in your bedroom, Mr Soames. Especially right before exam time, and with allegations of cheating hovering in the air. What will the ethics committee say? Now, obviously, two consenting adults, but there are some distinct questions that need to be asked about these things in the circumstances.

Not that I expect there was an ethics committee in 1895.

“What could he have wanted there?”

Mr Soames, blissfully unaware of the world.

“I will tell you, then, in a few words the character of the three men who inhabit these rooms. The lower of the three is Gilchrist, a fine scholar and athlete; plays in the Rugby team and the cricket team for the college, and got his Blue for the hurdles and the long jump. He is a fine, manly fellow. His father was the notorious Sir Jabez Gilchrist, who ruined himself on the turf. My scholar has been left very poor, but he is hard-working and industrious. He will do well."

So he really needs the scholarship then, is what I'm hearing here. Also 'fine, manly fellow'. People really did just say things like that back then, huh?

“The second floor is inhabited by Daulat Ras, the Indian. He is a quiet, inscrutable fellow, as most of those Indians are. He is well up in his work, though his Greek is his weak subject. He is steady and methodical."

Ah, yes, racism. Could be worse racism, but still. And this guy probably isn't going to do well in the exam, so wants to up his grade.

“The top floor belongs to Miles McLaren. He is a brilliant fellow when he chooses to work—one of the brightest intellects of the University, but he is wayward, dissipated, and unprincipled. He was nearly expelled over a card scandal in his first year. He has been idling all this term, and he must look forward with dread to the examination.”

And the spoilt little rich kid, previously hypothesised, seemingly lazy and didn't bother with his lessons so now he needs to catch up. Seems to obvious from the description, though. My money is on the Fine, manly fellow at the moment, because clearly he's the one Soames doesn't suspect at all. OR all three of them are working together. I assume there are other people also taking the exam.

“That is singular, because you sat down in that chair over yonder near the corner. Why did you pass these other chairs?”

So he could be closer to the bedroom door? Though I don't know how that would help him? To see out the window?

“Oh, I would not venture to say, sir. I don't believe there is any gentleman in this University who is capable of profiting by such an action. No, sir, I'll not believe it.”

These guys really don't like cynicism, huh? Couldn't possibly be anyone who did this. It all must have just happened on its own.

Bannister might have let one or more of them in under false pretences and then realised what was going on after the fact. That would explain his excessive reaction (although, it occurs to me that since they're taking this so seriously, he might lose his job over it, which would explain a large reaction, but then sitting in the furthest seat possible is odd).

[sothischickshe]

Hi! For the Get To Know Your Fic Writer asks: 24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

Hey, ty! 😘😘😘

Idk if this was definitely the worst, but one that stuck with me as well intentioned but not super helpful was 'make it smellier' & the kinda cliché examples which came with.

sensory detail can def add important texture to scenes, and smell in't necessary primacied (at least in my here-now) the way say sight is, so it's a good one to make sure one considers, espec bc of its supposed association with memory.

that said, mentioning that the garden or perfume or dog smells of rain or bergamot or aniseed is, i think, kinda equivalent to saying the table is red or television loud. including sensory detail is dandy, and can be evocative, but often just gets done in this basic way, particularly re smell where ingredients or flora or whatever get listed, so this task can be crossed off. smellier writing can be v interesting where it relates to memory ('the garden smells of manure and honeysuckle, like her childhood one and she thinks abt xyz again') or establishes detail ('she always wears xyz perfume' / 'the room still smells of xyz perfume and he knows she must have recently been here; he has the killer's identity') or almost becomes a kind of metonymy, where a character or setting or situation can be referred to without name or similar allusion bc the(ir) smell/s have been established.

i don't find smell to be an easy thing to describe without nouns, maybe this is a limitation of english, or of mine (or both!). but i do find often in fiction such nouning can be overused, to the point of almost parody -- i don't know that i believe every random character has this super strong nose where they can identify the full bouquet of items included in their lover's toiletries! ofc how much this might bother you is going to relate to pov, but i tend to prefer stories with tight rather than omniscient pov, and certainly consistency abt this. specific pov + smell can be used to great effect, where it makes sense that the character has a strong sense of smell (much like painter pov describing visuals and emotionality in terms of brushstrokes, or a cook character tending to break others' personalities and situations they encounter etc into amounts of composite 'ingrdients') e.g., with the protagonist of the novel perfume who is a super-smeller, or dog-pov (like one of my fave gg fics, the goodest boy), but unless your characters have some reason to display such skills, it can kinda take the reader out of the experience i feel.

so rather than listing smells (or indeed other ~sensory deets), i think sprinkling specifiers in (e.g., 'the red table' as opposed to 'the table', espec if there's multiple tables and you wanna be able to refer to this important one!) but not letting descriptors overwhelm can be useful, but specifically with nouny smells, if it's not in service of establishing evocative scene or character deets (or yummy food mmmm), maybe the actual smell isn't that important. maybe what's more important is the (pov) character(s)'s relationship to it: so rather than 'his shampoo smells of xyz' it's 'his shampoo smells of x, which she loves cos it reminds her of mama's flowers and y which she's never liked but finds pleasanter on him and z which she can't identify, and wants to ask him about but is certain she'll never find the courage' or even simply 'his shampoo smells pleasant' or more interestingly 'his shampoo smells as pleasant as his hands feel', 'his hair smells different, something fancier than the familiar citrus, he must have changed shampoo now he's moving up in the world and she hates the reminder', 'he smells different now, he must have changed something, she hates this highlighting of how everything's altered, hadn't realised she'd memorised his scent' 'he smells exactly the same, it's as comforting as her mother's soup' etc etc etc etc etc etc etc

Ficcy asks!

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Dirty Talk

!a series of me uploading the kinktober fics/drabbles i made years ago because i didnt back in 2020 for some fuckin reason. if these are bad/poor quality its because theyre old, and ive improved since then :)!

Roceit (Roman x Janus) Day 29: dirty talk Warnings: degradation, blowjobs, leg humping

"How long will the others be out?" Roman asks, eyes turned towards the front door. Outside, rain poured, and every once in a while lightning struck, momentarily illuminating the otherwise dark living room.

The television was on, playing a movie that Roman had seen many times before, but it hardly provided much light during the current scene - one more dark and gritty. Roman craved the return of the sweet scenes with colour and light, so he'd suffer through the dark with a pout until they came on again.

Janus was curled up on the other side of the couch, a blanket draped over his lap, and a book in hand. Roman recognized it as one of Logan's books, identified easily by the sticky notes peaking out from between pages, no doubt covered in small lettering identifying parts of the book that Logan deemed interesting or noteworthy. Leaning forward slightly, Roman attempted to catch a glimpse of the title, but he couldn't manage.

"All Patton said was that they'd be back tonight," Janus responds, voice smooth as he flips a page. "Judging by how bad the storm has gotten, they might not even decide to do that. Virgil probably started freaking out the moment lightning struck."

"Do you think they're going to get a hotel?"

Janus sighs, as he closes the book over his thumbs, preserving his spot. "I don't know, Roman."

"Do you think we should call them and-"

Before Roman has the opportunity to finish his question, Janus shifts his position on the couch and kicks Roman's leg, Roman dramatically curling up into a ball and saying "ow! Meanie!" He's pouting, as he rubs the spot on his leg Janus had kicked, but Janus just rolls his eyes and sets the book on the coffee table, turning back to Roman entirely.

"Can you hush?" Janus states, as he stretches. After sitting idle for a long period of time, his body ached. "The others are probably fine. Pay attention to your movie or something; quit worrying about them." Upon seeing Roman's pout, Janus specifies "or at least quit vocalizing your worry. It's frankly quite annoying."

Roman whines out a protest, before he dramatically slumps over onto Janus's legs entirely. "But the movie is boring right now," he says, bottom lip jutted out in a point. "And I'm bored!"

Usually one of the others is able to distract him or entertain him for quite a bit of time, and even when they aren't around Roman can usually get wrapped up in his work to the point where he leaves Janus alone.

But, it seems that his wish for peace and quiet wouldn't be granted, as Roman whines and complains about a lack of stimuli while lightly pounding on Janus's legs similarly to the way a child would throw a tantrum.

"Pity," Janus hisses, as he kicks Roman away from his legs, before curling back up into a ball. His blanket had been discarded due to the movement, but before he could reach for it and toss it back over his lap, Roman crawls over the couch and fully rests his upper half on Janus's lap.

Janus never understood why Roman was so affectionate, even while complaining and pouting, and he didn't exactly know how to react. Pushing him off again would only result in Roman crawling back, despite the fact Janus didn't care that he was bored, and could honestly do without all the touching.

"Janus!" Roman whines, before he rubs his head against Janus's stomach, nuzzling him close in an attempt to cuddle him. Janus can't deny that he's very much enjoying the pure heat radiating of of the other, but he still let out an annoyed scowl as Roman then pleads "please, entertain me?"

With a scoff, Janus combs his hands through his own hair, clearly annoyed. However, knowing that Roman wouldn't quit bothering until he did, Janus sits up fully, stretching in an attempt to soothe the ache in his body from sitting still for so long.

Roman, sensing he'd convinced him, sits up fully too, excited by whatever idea Janus had or will come up with.

"What's your colour?" Janus asks, as he brushes off his lap, making it seem like Roman had some sort of disease that made Janus want to wipe away any potential germs. Roman flushes at his words, though, and ends up shyly looking away.

"Oh- oh. I didn't realize you'd want to do something so... so..." Roman stammers over his thoughts, clearly unsure of how to process the fact Janus wanted to do something sexual. "Well, to be frank, I didn't realize you wanted to have sex." His voice turns into a whisper as he nears the end of his sentence, clearly flustered by Janus's implications, but it just makes Janus roll his eyes.

"I take it that's a 'no,' then?" Janus asks, as he reaches for his book, although Roman immediately exclaims "no! I mean, no, that's not a no. Let me start over!"

He draws in a deep breath, desperately trying to will away the blush on his face, while also trying to sort out his thoughts, before he says "my colour is green. I just was caught off guard. Having sex is not what I expected to do tonight."

"And it's not what we'll do tonight," Janus replies, rolling his eyes yet again. "I'm not really in the mood to fuck you senseless." Roman's face turns a darker shade of red at Janus's bluntness, and he's convinced Janus phrased it that way on purpose judging by the way his lips quirked up in a smirk.

Roman scoots ever closer, staying cautious in case Janus decides to fluster him further, but Janus finally lets himself grin.

"I was thinking, how about you suck me off and shut up for a bit, and maybe, if I'm feeling up for it, I'll even let you come." Janus speaks smoothly, with confidence and smugness dripping from his words, and he pushes himself forward so that he's on his knees, face to face with Roman fully. He drags a finger under Roman's chin, and Roman leans forward, as if following it, eyes staring intensely into Janus's, much to Janus's delight.

Before Roman can even process what's happening, he's is sliding onto the floor, seemingly pleased with Janus's idea. He's nodding, still flustered, as he rambles "yeah- okay. Okay, that seems fun." It did seem fun. It wasn't what Roman was expecting by any means, but he asked for something to entertain him, and Janus was sweet enough to deliver.

Janus guides Roman to kneel between his legs, as he gracefully unbuttons his pants and tugs his boxers down just enough to pull out his cock.

He gives it a few strokes in order to work it to full hardness, and when he notices Roman staring, the words "what, see something you like, slut?" slip out of his mouth, sounding just as casual as if Janus was asking any other normal question.

And Roman's face is burning, as he swallows the spit in his mouth. That doesn't seem to satisfy Janus though, as his smirk falls into a slight frown. "I asked you a question, whore. Answer me," he grits out, moments later, and Roman shakes his head slightly, as if snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," he apologizes, eyes glancing up at Janus who's looking down at him with intense eyes. Roman looks away, gulping, before he ends up looking back at Janus's cock. "Yeah- yeah I do. I like your cock," he answers, voice quiet and shy; a stark contrast to how loud and boastful Roman normally is. Admittedly, Janus likes how shy and easily embarrassed Roman is when it came to sex. It was different, and honestly quite cute.

"Good boy," Janus purrs, and Roman can't help the shiver of pleasure that courses through his body at the words.

He leans closer, and the tip of Janus's cock traces over his lips, and Roman's quick to open his mouth for it. Janus's cock slides into his mouth, and Roman has to resist moaning as the weight settles on his tongue.

Janus's fingers comb gently through his hair, although his words are a rough contrast, as he groans out "fuck, Roman. I like you so much better with your lips around my cock, like the good little slut you are."

Roman moans around Janus's length, before he takes more of it in, tonguing and sucking around the tip. It really is a mindless task, and it occupies Roman's mouth and gives his tongue something to do. His constant chattering and chewing on pen caps could have easily been replaced by sucking Janus off this entire time.

Maybe he'd ask to do this more often.

Stealing a glance up at Janus's face, Roman can see that Janus is relaxed against the couch, eyes gently closed and quiet moans slipping past his lips as Roman continues to lick and suck at his cock.

Roman takes it as his own pace, swallowing around the length as he leans in closer to take in more. The tip of Janus's cock rubs against the back of his throat, and as he gags, he leans back slightly. With just the tip in his mouth again, Roman's tongue runs over the slit, and Janus's fingers tighten in his hair, before Roman's head is moving back down.

He's taken up a slow pace, but he's focused on pleasuring Janus, and really focusing on the way Janus's cock felt in his mouth.

It's all he could really think about; the taste of precum dripping down his throat makes him moan, and he's quick to swallow what he can and suck eagerly in hopes more will be produced. As he takes in more of Janus's cock, he hums, trying hard not to gag this time. He wants to take it all, and as his nose presses against Janus's pelvic region, Roman can't help but moaning again.

Admittedly, he's hard just from sucking Janus off. His quiet moans are like music to Roman's ears, and he tries to discretely roll his hips against the carpet in hopes of relieving some of uncomfortable ache in his pants. His hands itched to undo his pants and stroke himself, but instead they settled on Janus's thighs, squeezing gently at the skin as he slowly bobs his head on Janus's cock.

It's relaxed, and compared to how rough Roman knew Janus could get, it was a nice change of pace. He was given full control, and was tasked with pleasuring Janus, and he was trying his hardest to do a good job.

"Good boy- my good little whore," Janus breathes, voice smooth and sweet, and Roman's closes his own eyes at the words, taking in the feeling of Janus's cock dragging across his tongue, the hand petting his head like he's a beloved pet, and Janus's words filling his ears. All the senses please him more, and he speeds up his bobbing slightly.

His hands tighten on Janus's legs as Janus moans out "fuck, Roman, I'm close."

It makes Roman shiver with delight, as he focuses primarily on driving Janus to come. His tongue laps over the slit, as he hums every time he fully deepthroats Janus's shaft. One of his hands fall from Janus's thigh, and instead moves to his balls, lightly squeezing and fondling them in an attempt to give Janus added pleasure.

With a light tug to his hair, and a groan of Roman's name, Janus suddenly comes in Roman's mouth. Roman chokes as he pulls back slightly, swallowing what he can in hopes nothing spills out and stains the carpet.

He wipes the remainder off his chin, before looking up at Janus with needy eyes. "Janus- Janus please get me off. I need to come so bad," he pleads, still pathetically humping the ground. Janus stares down at him, as if internally debating whether or not he'll let Roman come today.

With a sigh, though, Janus shifts his position slightly. He takes the time to tuck his cock back into his pants, before he moves one of his legs to rest between Roman's thighs.

"You can hump against my leg," Janus says, as if that's a privilege. "If you don't want to, then you won't be getting off at all tonight."

It was either humiliate himself or be stuck painfully hard and desperate until his boner sadly went away. Weighing both options, Roman found he'd much rather come that have to hold back entirely, so he leans against Janus's leg, face bright red as he very shyly grinds against Janus's shin.

"Ah-ah," Janus tuts, raising an eyebrow as Roman looks up at him. "Be polite, Roman. What do you say?"

Roman doubts his face can get anymore red than it is currently, and he stammers over his word as he looks away from Janus's face, overly flustered. Despite his embarrassment, he still utters "thank you, Janus," which earns Janus combing through his hair and responding with "good boy, Roman."

He keeps his head down and tucked into Janus's leg, whining softly as he gets slightly more confident with his grinding. He's rolling his hips repeatedly against Janus's leg, humping against him like a mutt in heat, and Janus compares him to such too.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" he asks, although it's a rhetorical question. He doesn't expect Roman to answer, and he doesn't want him to either. "Grinding against me like a fucking dog. A stupid bitch. That's what you are; a fucking mutt."

Roman moans at his words, cock leaking in his pants, and he knows he won't last much longer. He's babbling out a mixture of Janus's name and incoherent noises, needing to do something with his mouth now that it's unoccupied again.

"Janus- Janus please," he begs, not exactly knowing what he's begging for. For a less humiliating way to get off, perhaps? Although it doesn't seem like Janus has changed his mind on that, as he starts moving his leg up in an attempt to match Roman's grinds down.

In doing so, Roman's head falls back in a pleased moan, as he grips tighter to Janus's leg. "Please!" he cries, face flushed and hair disheveled from Janus's hand constantly running through his locks, and as Janus admires his pathetic face, he notices that Roman's even drooling.

"Are you close, Roman?" Janus asks, and Roman can really only whine and nod as his forehead rests against Janus's legs. It makes Janus grin just seeing the way Roman's body trembled slightly. So overwhelmed from so little stimuli.

Smiling softly, Janus then purrs "come for me then, slut. Make a mess of your pants like the dirty whore you are."

And, well, Roman can't really disobey. Grinding a bit more against Janus's leg pushes him completely over the edge, and his head lolls back as he lets out a high whine and comes in his pants. He humps against Janus as he rides out his orgasm, before he slumps over completely, breathing heavily.

"Alright, Roman," Janus says, after a moment, causing Roman to look up at him, still breathing heavily. Janus holds his arms out as he moves his leg back, and Roman looks at him confused.

"Come cuddle," Janus then clarifies, rolling is eyes, although it sounds more like an order. It's a demand that Roman is happy to follow. Although somewhat uncomfortable feeling the dampness in his pants, he doesn't hesitate crawling onto the couch with Janus, and nuzzling up against his chest.

After all, they had all the time in the world to cuddle. The rest of the night, anyway, and they could probably manage to shower before the others got home. Hopefully, at least.

[robinfuckery-blog]

The 1994 Ford Probe GT Plus

This 1994 Ford Probe GT Plus was the very first car I owned. To those not familiar, this was a special edition version sold for only one year. The only thing that set it apart from the lesser Probe GT was the fact it loudly identified itself as a Probe in numerous places throughout the inside and outside of the car. And of course it had a bright purple paint job. The "Wild Orchid Edition" is what they called it in the Probe community, where it is regarded as a rare and special flower. As is often the case, the car came to me through a family member: my Uncle Douglas. He bought it new all the way back in 1994, about five years after leaving behind his blue collar job and life in the city. He put down roots in Cape Cod. There, he opened a bed and breakfast with his best friend, Felipe. They actually lived together for over two decades. Neither of them ever did get married. Enjoyed the bachelor life too much, I guess. Probably why they got along so well all those years. Uncle Douglas and Felipe actually shared the car. If I knew them like I think I knew them, they probably took turns cruising the streets of Provincetown with it, just trawling for pussy. That ended up being a very good thing (sharing the car, not trawling for pussy). Felipe was extremely meticulous when it came to car maintenance. So much so, Uncle Douglas even came to refer to their car as the "Anal Probe." It was sort an inside joke between them. Every time he called it that, they'd look at each other and laugh and maybe slap each other's butts, like in the gym locker room, except with way more eye contact and lip-biting. The Probe was fifteen years old when I took possession of it. After all those years, the paint was remained a brilliant violet and the engine idled as smoothly as something that is smooth. So how exactly did it come to be mine?

Well, my Uncle Douglas unfortunately suffered an accident, one which would render him incapable of operating a vehicle. He, Felipe, and myself were picnicking at an abandoned quarry in the Berkshires for my birthday, as is tradition, when it happened. Poor Uncle Douglas stepped wrong and ended up falling off a cliff. He sustained a moderately sprained ankle, some cracked ribs, and massive, irreversible cranial trauma. We'll probably never know which of these it was that actually did in the old boy. Felipe might have held on to the Probe even without Uncle Douglas to share it with, but the death of his best friend hit him hard. In the end, he chose to move back to the Philippines, leaving their purple poon-mobile behind in the process. Not that he didn't love the car. It's just that bringing the Probe along was not even an option in the first place. He told me it had something to do with Filipinos believing the color purple brought bad luck. At least that's what I think he said. All the sniffling and crying he was doing while identifying Uncle Douglas' body made him exceedingly difficult to understand.

Anyway, onto the car itself. The 1994 Ford Probe GT Plus was one of many front drive sport coupes that were sold throughout America and the United States in the late eighties and nineties. It shared its underpinnings and mechanicals with the Mazda MX-6. Along with more modern styling and a more sporting chassis, this second generation Probe was blessed with another huge upgrade over the first generation: a naturally aspirated 2.5 liter DOHC V6. Finally, as mentioned before, my Uncle Douglas specified the special package which would come to be known later as the "Wild Orchid Edition."

   So how is the car itself?     First off, it is a small car. The low roofline means that entry is awkward and a bit unnatural. Once in, however, it just feels right. You really get used to, and even come to prefer it, after a spell. Don't get me wrong, it's snug and feels a bit peculiar at first, yet at the same time, it's surprisingly accommodating.     In typical early nineties fashion, the cockpit is full of buttons whose functions are not always immediately evident. It takes some experimenting before one grows familiar with them. Basically, just keep pushing and twisting things until something happens.     One thing in the Probe that is immediately intuitive is the shifter knob of the five-speed manual transmission. Talk about perfection. Not too big, not too small. The perfect shape, too. It felt right at home in my hand, almost like I'd been using it all my life. While requiring little effort to move it back and forth, it could at the same time withstand a surprising amount of abuse when I got rough with it. Early on, there were a couple occasions when I got carried away and inadvertently slammed the shifter into the wrong gear. The Probe took it like a champ, though, and let me slide it into the correct spot right after with nary a complaint.     One negative issue I experienced had to do with the interior. Specifically, how cramped the back seat was. I get that it was a sports coupe first. Still, the Probe was a bit ridiculous. The legroom was actually halfway acceptable, but the way the glass hatch sloped down cut off headroom to an extraordinary degree. Uncle Douglas would always say as long as there was room for him and Felipe's two corgis as well as their friend, Dorothy, he didn't care about backseat accommodations that much. Judging by the butt slap and subsequent eye contact with Felipe, I'm guessing this was another of their inside jokes. He also said that "headroom" - Uncle Douglas literally put up some finger quotes when he said it - only matters up front. More butt slaps, more eye contact with Felipe.     Another issue I had was with fuel consumption. Even though it was a V6, the 164-horsepower was somewhat light in the loafers when compared to V8-powered Mustangs of the day. Still, I barely managed twenty miles per gallon in mixed but highway-biased driving. The way it sucked down gas, it was like the Probe couldn't wait to get to the pump and swallow another load of gasoline.

Performance was where the Probe shone brightest. Simply put, the V6 engine was a real peach. It revved smooth and fast to its 7000 RPM redline. It provided a fair amount of thrust when called upon, evident by the way the seats firmly clasped my buttocks. Not as virile as a Mustang GT perhaps, but comparable to other front drive sports coupes of the day.       Handling was a strong suit of the Probe, as well. The chassis and suspension tuning gave it the feeling of always being up on its toes and ready to make a getaway. Whether that getaway was from a mall parking lot during the holidays or a roadside public restroom during a Thursday, it didn't matter. You just couldn't catch it "with its pants down," if you catch my drift.     All in all, it was simply a fun car to drive, even when taking into account it was fifteen years old and had over 80,000 miles when I got it. Felipe had kept everything shiny and well-lubed over the years, so a lot of it is thanks to him.     Alas, the Probe left the earth just last year. I was stopped at a crosswalk in front of a Whole Foods. There, a pickup truck with testicles rear-ended my baby. Everyone was okay - me, the other driver, his "old lady," their four kids in the bed of the truck and their six coon hounds in the back seat - but the Probe itself was a total loss. That sucked, but at least insurance took care of it. Ended up going in a different direction for my next vehicle.     The real tragedy of this story is that there is one less Wild Orchid out there now. So if you love the color purple a lot and you're also in the market for a mid-nineties sports coupe that's fun to drive, and you happened to encounter an inexpensive one of these unicorns for sale, do not hesitate.

[zebu-helan]

How To Trade With Support And Resistance

Technical analysts employ a set of principles to forecast how much stocks will rise or fall in the future. Once you understand what a trend is, the next crucial concept in technical analysis is support and resistance.

The notion of support and resistance

According to technical analysis, when the price of a stock reaches certain specified price points, it tends to stop and move in the opposite direction.

Support level: The point at which the price of a stock stops falling. It's probable that the price will rise rather than fall. At this time, it is anticipated that buyer demand will outnumber selling demand.

A level of resistance is the polar opposite of a level of support. Above a certain price level (ceiling), the stock price is not projected to climb. At this pricing, the market for this stock is more favorable to sellers than to purchasers.

What exactly does "support" imply?

The support and resistance levels on a candlestick chart might help you choose the best price to purchase or sell at. The market expects more buyers than sellers at the support level. On the chart, the support level is the price at which traders may anticipate to see the highest buying interest in a stock.

In a sinking market, the support-resistance indication, which is a key level market player to look for, is frequently a signal to buy. When the price of a security falls and demand for shares rises, a support line is formed.

What exactly is resistance?

When there are more sellers than buyers on a candlestick chart, the price has surpassed the resistance level. A resistance level is a price point on a chart at which traders intend to sell as much of a particular stock as possible. It prevents the price from rising any further.

Because resistance is always greater than the current market price, it is frequently a sell signal. The resistance level is one of the most significant things for traders to watch in a bullish market. In a nutshell, support and resistance are diametrically opposed.

A trader can predict how the price of a stock will move by examining the support and resistance levels. However, there is still the possibility that the stock price will rise above these levels. When this occurs, which is common, a new level of support and resistance is established.

If the support level is breached, the stock price will continue to decrease until it finds a new support level. Furthermore, if the stock price breaks past the resistance level, it continues to rise until it reaches a new resistance level.

How Reliable Are Resistance and Support?

Although support and resistance can indicate whether to purchase or sell, you should not rely only on them. To put it another way, before determining whether or not to purchase or sell a certain stock, you should consider a number of additional factors.

Predicting the future price of a stock is the most significant (and difficult) component of technical analysis for a stock trader. The future high (or low) price cannot be forecast with any degree of certainty.

So, the concept of support and resistance is a helpful approach to understand how prices move. Support and resistance levels assist traders in making decisions by allowing them to see patterns.

For instance, if a trader notices that a stock has reached a support level, he may purchase additional shares. This is done to improve the stock's chances of recovering. Similarly, the trader may sell his shares and profit when the stock reaches a resistance level.

When the price of a stock approaches these levels, be cautious because the area between the support and resistance levels is notoriously volatile.

Conclusion

Traders can use the concept of support and resistance to identify and profit from stock market trends.

This does not imply that the stock will never rise above a support or resistance level. A stock's price can always rise or fall. Furthermore, as a trader, you should not base your decisions just on these levels.

[ival-eon]

hey,

jonathan archivist sims is an asexual man.

[awkwardtortilla]

my fellow they/them user, i am legally obligated to ask for some coming out to the quarry characters headcannons during this fine pride month-

I will not be discussing the incoherent excitement noises I made

Coming Out

I’m fucking in love with this. I’m sorry some of them might not be super long but I’m gonna put so much goddam effort into them bc I love the babies so friggin much

warnings: what the reader is coming out as isn’t specified; relationship isn’t specified either; none other than that really

Jacob

You, uh, might have to explain it to him

He supports you ofc no matter what it is but he’s still gotta double check

Like

“Really? Shit, dude, that’s great! …….what does that mean again???”

And he cocks his head to the side a lil like the puppy he is

He will listen as hard as he can to your explanation but might zone out at some parts

When he finally understands he’ll be even more supportive if that’s even possible

He would fuck someone up if they disrespected you

I have no doubt he would be the first to call or text to say happy pride month

“Do you want this?” Holding up any piece of rainbow merchandise

His intentions are pure I swear

Emma

Very very supportive

But not super loudly

Probably knows what it is no matter what

I mean she is a social media personality

Speaking of

She would NOT use you to gain likes or followers

She’d absolutely respect your pronouns when talking about you during streams, only messing up a couple times right after you came out

Would disrespectfully tell someone to respect your pronouns and/or sexuality if they did not do that

She would also take you out to do shit during pride month

Abigail

Would do a lil happy squeal when you tell her

And hug you (if you’re ok with that)

Abi would be so goddam proud of you and so honored you felt comfortable enough to tell her this

Would never mess up your pronouns or sexuality

Would death-glare anyone who did

Would send you the sweetest of texts to wish you a happy pride month

Nick

We didn’t see too much of his personality but he seemed sweet and like a good boy

So I feel like he’d be pretty supportive

Might also need you to clear up exactly what you identify as

He’d do a long “ohhhhhhhhhh” when it finally clicks

And then he’d be all excited and happy for you and say how seriously proud he is

He’d struggle with pronouns and/or name change at first but curse himself and apologize every time

I could see him forgetting that it’s pride month until a couple days in and then being like “oh shit sorry [your name] happy pride”

Then he’d ask if you wanted to go out and do anything for it

Dylan

Face lights up when you tell him

Smile that rivals the sun

So happy and excited and goddam proud

“Oh my god, [your name], that’s amazing! Congrats!”

Goes to wrap you in a big hug but hesitates and you’re gonna have to close the distance

Quickly relaxes into the hug and prolly picks you up a lil

Might screw up pronouns a lil but swears and apologizes and corrects it

Sends you a very excited, over the top message wishing you a happy pride month

Or maybe he calls and makes it unnecessarily formal like “tis your (boy)friend, Dylan, to wisheth a you merry pride month”

Ryan

“Oh. That’s cool.”

Not trying to be mean or rude just kinda… doesn’t know how he should respond???

When you seem to be getting uncomfortable he rushes to assure you that he supports you fully and is happy for you

But somehow digs him into a hole

But you understand and stop him and hug him

He slowly eases into it but when he’s cool it’s one of his great goddam hugs

Idk he just looks like he gives good hugs

Or really awkward ones

But either way you have his support and he will be very respectful of pronouns and/or name change and/or sexuality like the good boy he is

Probably forgets it’s pride month until someone else texts him which will remind him to text you

Nothing fancy either just a “happy pride month :)”

Kaitlyn

Big smile

“Oh my god, [your nameeeeee]! That’s great! I’m so happy for you.”

Maybe a side hug but nothing too over the top

She is very proud and loves you so much but won’t make a show about it

Will ABSOLUTELY respect you and your changes

“Happy pride bitch 🌈”

Buys you little pins and things with your flag on them

Max

He would have a bright smile but his eyes wouldn’t quite match

A lot like Jacob’s reaction

“Holy- that’s freakin awesome, [your name]! That’s, ah……. What’s that mean again, I’m sorry”

You’d explain and when he gets it he immediately perks up and is completely excited

Gushes about how great that is and how proud he is and how amazing you are

So honored you told him this

Takes him a bit to get used to your changes and feels so bad about it and apologizes so much

“Shit- I’m sorry” becomes a new catchphrase

But he eventually gets it and is lowkey proud of himself

Definitely wishes you happy pride month with a couple of cute emojis

Takes you out to celebrate if you wanna

Laura

Probably knows what you’re talking about

If not she’ll politely ask for you to

Expresses her happiness and how proud she is of you but not loudly or super enthusiastically

Will have a big smile tho

Also gives a cute lil side hug

Doesn’t mess up your pronouns or name save for a couple times

Sends a short but sweet “happy pride 🌈” text

Chris

We didn’t see much of Chris either but I think he’d be cool

A very supportive man

May need you to clarify and explain bc I doubt he’s keeping up with all the genders and sexualities

His reaction won’t really change after he gets it

“Ahh, okay. Gotcha. That’s great, kid, good for you.”

Genuine pride in his voice

Definitely screws up pronouns and names changes but apologizes and corrects himself

No happy pride text :,)

But will do a pride post on whatever social media platforms he uses

Travis

Definitely needs an explanation

But will not ask for one

Instead he’ll Google it on his own it later

“Oh, uh…. Congrats.”

Very awkward about it

But accepts you and maybe thinks of you different thanks to his upbringing

I mean he’s 56 and was raised by rednecks so while I don’t think he’d be homophobic I think he would need a little while to get used to everything

I’m sorry but it’s the truth

Might send you a happy pride text

Maybe