#i am in a constant debate on whether or not to use similar language to what they use in the game

[chudleycanonficfest]

Washing Machine Heart

Day 22, Story #2 is by @rosequartzstarswrites​

Title: Washing Machine Heart Author/Artist: rosequartzstars - @rosequartzstarswrites (Because of Tumblr settings, this is posting from my main blog, but it’s me!) Pairing: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (and background Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger) Prompt: 5+1 Rating: T (only for some strong language and non-explicit insinuations) Trigger Warning(s) (if any): none apply! 

“I can’t believe I’m going through with this,” huffed Hermione, struggling to keep up the brisk pace Ron was marking on the sidewalk.

“You never believed you’d have to, did you?” Ron said gleefully, seemingly unaware of just how hard his long-legged strides were to keep up with.

“You never told me you were that good at chess!”

“No, more like you never thought anyone could be better than you at anything!”

Despite only having been friends, close friends, with them for a semester, Harry had already become accustomed to the constant bickering between Ron and Hermione, to the point even of endearment. Coming from the Dursleys’, arguments and rebukes were something he was used to, but the undertone of friendship with which Ron and Hermione faced off was a welcome change (and a very entertaining one). Still, he tended to side quietly with Ron, and this particular time was no exception: part of him was delighted at the prospect of seeing Hermione get a tattoo.

This had all started from a ridiculous bet, born of boredom in the lounge of their dorm building. Ron had eyed the communal chessboard, battered and chipped from years of usage, and challenged Hermione to a match.

Hermione had scoffed: “Only if you want to lose, Ron.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Ron had said, exchanging a look with Harry as a sly smile crept onto his lips.

“I’m completely certain.”

“Certain enough to bet?” Ron had prodded her.

The competitiveness that, before becoming friends, was all Harry had known of Hermione had flared up in her eyes. “I’m listening.”

“When you lose—”

“If I lose, and I won't—”

“When you lose,” Ron had reiterated, “you have to get a tattoo of my choosing.”

Hermione had smirked. “Game on.”

In Hermione’s defense, Harry thought, she hadn’t ever considered she might lose. There really was no way of expecting how good Ron had turned out to be at chess, especially since —Harry thought— Hermione had based her certainty on how abysmal his grades were, against her own straight A’s, in their proofs-based mathematics class, which relied entirely on strength of reasoning. But, as it turned out, Ron was actually a master logician, if only somewhat lazy at his math classes, and this he had proved by absolutely obliterating Hermione with the fastest checkmate Harry had ever borne witness to.

And that is how they had come to find themselves out on the streets of their little college town that night, wrapped in their scarves and their winter coats to battle the first of the December chill, walking to a tattoo parlor Ron knew in the area so Hermione could be forever reminded of her loss by a tattoo Ron would choose. And if Harry knew Ron well, and knew how much he relished teasing Hermione, the reminder would be a strong one.

“I didn’t even want a tattoo,” Hermione was mumbling, more to herself than at either of them. “I never wanted one— did you know that you might not be eligible to donate blood if you have a tattoo? I mean, not that it’s impossible, but it’s a factor against you, like your weight and your age. And my family has a history of needing transfusions— oh, God, what if my grandfather needs a donation, like, tomorrow? The three-month period of eligibility won’t have elapsed, and my father can’t donate, and– and–” She froze in the middle of the sidewalk. “Oh, God, have I killed my grandfather?”

“Relax, Hermione,” Ron said, throwing a fraternal arm around her shoulders and squeezing her half in an attempt to get her walking again. “You’re halfway across the country from home. You wouldn’t be able to fly out on such short notice anyway.”

Harry had to stifle a laugh at how Hermione gaped at Ron then, a billion other dire possibilities to worry about racing through her head now. Ron, however, was less successful at keeping down a chuckle. “I’m kidding, Hermione. Besides, a tattoo will make you look badass.”

“I don’t want to look badass!” Hermione squeaked shrilly. “I’ve never been remotely interested in looking badass!”

“Well, interested or not,” Ron said as they came up to a dark brick building with a neon sign reading LOVEGOOD’S flickering above the door, “it seems like you don’t have much of a choice, because we’re here.”

Hermione let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a whine as she looked up at the storefront that, to her, was synonymous not only with her doom but apparently that of her grandfather.

“Ron, please?” she said meekly.

Ron, however, looked gleeful and would not be deterred. “A bet’s a bet,” he declared, grabbing her wrist and beginning to march her up the three or so stairs that led up to the door of the tattoo parlor from the sidewalk. Harry lingered behind for an instant, watching the backs of his two friends as they waddled up the stairs, smiling as he listened to Ron debate whether he would make Hermione get a skull or a sailor’s “Mom” arrow-pierced heart, and Hermione pleading shrilly with him not to do either of those things. Watching them, Harry’s smile widened. He was lucky to have them as friends, that much he knew, despite the short time he’d spent knowing them. Why he hadn’t found them his freshman year was beyond him— but now, now that he had these wacky outings and constant bickering to enjoy, he felt overwhelmingly lucky that they had found him.

“Harry, are you coming in or what?” Ron beckoned him. He had stopped on the topmost step and was still gripping Hermione, whose face was a mask of pure, crystallized terror.

“Absolutely,” Harry said, hurrying up the steps with a little hop. “This I’ve got to see.”

Ron pushed open the door to the parlor with a little too much gusto, and Hermione cringed at the metallic sound of the chimes above the door as they tinkled with the announcement of their entrance. The front of the shop, sealing off the rest with a counter that had seen better days, was empty, the backroom separated by a beaded curtain.

“Hellooo?” Ron called into the backroom, marching right up to the counter. “Is anybody here? We bring a very eager customer!”

Hermione began to protest, but just as she did, an employee came out of the backroom to stand behind the counter. Catching a glimpse of her, Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his chest: she was stunning. She was tall and slender, her toned arms visible through the ripped-off sleeves of her vintage Hole tee, with a curtain of straight orange hair pulled back into a long high ponytail. Her bright brown eyes glimmered atop a button-like nose that matched her small, round mouth perfectly, the pale fine face finished by a spattering of freckles. Even before she had spoken a single word, Harry felt the confidence coming off of her in waves, simply by how she propped her elbows up on the counter and eyed their party somewhat playfully. He was frozen to his place with the sight of her, hoping his jaw hadn’t dropped as low as it had felt in the wake of his awe.

Upon seeing her, however, Ron had had exactly the opposite reaction. “Ginny?” he said incredulously.

“What are you doing here?” the woman —Ginny— said without any greeting, returning Ron’s frown.

“I thought you weren’t working today!”

“I’m covering a shift for Demelza, she had a gyn appointment today.”

“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have come in,” grumbled Ron. The tips of his ears were beginning to pink, a sign Harry had learned to recognize as a hint of extreme emotion in his friend.

“Well, you’re here now, so… what can I do for you?” Ginny said. “I mean, you can’t possibly be the one getting inked, Ron. You’re too much of a wimp.”

“Shut up, or I’m telling mom you got your helix pierced. That’ll make for a fun Christmas greeting when we’re back home, I’ll wager.”

Then the similarity became apparent to Harry: the freckles, the aggressive red of their hair, the same glint in their eyes… Ginny was Ron’s sister. Somehow, he didn’t know whether that was something he should feel good or bad about.

“Tattletale,” Ginny said, swatting at him. “And it’s called an industrial piercing. Not that you’d know.” Only then did she seem to remark on the rest of the party.

“Harry Potter,” she said, and Harry gulped as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest and leaned back, surveying him. “Come to get a sixth tattoo?”

“A sixth— how do you know?” Harry said, befuddled. Out of all the opening lines he would’ve expected her to use, this had not been one of them.

“You can credit the rumor mill at school,” Ginny shrugged, still eyeing him with interest. “You’re a topic of interest. Or at least among the soccer teams.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Romilda swore you had a griffin tattooed on your chest, but I told her I’d heard it was a dragon. Much more macho, I thought.”

“Thanks,” Harry said dully. What else was he supposed to say?

“Don’t mention it,” Ginny gave him a conspiratorial wink. “And if I were you, I’d find out who on the boys’ team has been giving you the eye in the shower enough to count your tats. I bet it’s Ron.”

“It’s not!” Ron said angrily, the red from his ears bleeding out onto his cheeks.

“I bet it is,” Ginny mouthed to Harry, giving him another wink. “But it’s not you?”

“Pardon?” said Harry, for whom the ‘it-is-it’s-not’ exchange had grown somewhat confusing.

“For the tattoo?” Ginny said, and Harry felt like an idiot. “It’s not you who’s getting it?”

“No, ah, actually— it’s Hermione,” Harry was knocked back into his senses as he gestured toward Hermione, who had stood, utterly baffled, throughout that whole exchange.

“Hermione Granger?” Ginny said, and Harry was almost glad when she turned her gaze away from him and toward Hermione. “As in, Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger?”

“The one and only,” Ron declared proudly, happy to be back off a topic that bothered him (teasing Ron) and back on a topic that delighted him (teasing Hermione).

“I wouldn’t have chalked you up to the tattoo type,” Ginny said.

“Oh, she’s not,” Ron said, his face lighting up as if Christmas had come early.

Ginny’s eyes darted between the dismal face of Hermione and the cheerful face of Ron, her eyebrows rising as she took it in. “Okay, I’m not going to ask about whatever this is. What am I doing on you?”

“I’m designing it,” Ron said brightly. And if Harry had thought that Hermione’s face couldn’t get more desolated, he’d been wrong.

“Christ, Hermione, what has he got on you?” Ginny said, already opening a drawer on the counter to pull out a sketchpad and a pen.

“I’m such an idiot,” Hermione grumbled.

Ron pored over the sketchpad, shielding the paper from Hermione’s eyes as he sketched. When he was done, he handed it to Ginny with a quick flick of the wrist that, much to Hermione’s dismay, ensured she couldn’t even catch a glimpse of what was on it. Ginny looked over whatever it was Ron had drawn and then looked up at her brother with a frown.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, then,” Ginny shrugged. She lifted the counter to open a gap through which Hermione could walk. “Follow me.”

Looking like a lamb led to the slaughter, Hermione looked up to heaven as if making one last, futile plea before scrunching up her nose and following Ginny through the beaded curtain to the backroom. Because yes, she hated the idea of getting a tattoo, but she hated the idea of letting Ron hold one over her even more.

Ron watched her leave delightedly, relishing in the jangle the beaded curtain made as it swallowed Ginny and Hermione into the backroom. “This is going to be good,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “Oh, this is going to be so good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Harry blurted out all of a sudden. He startled himself as much as Ron when he said it, though he was glad he’d been able to pare down the question from what was actually swirling around in his head: Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister that looked like THAT?

Ron looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. It never came up.”

“You told me about every other one of your five brothers, but not the sister.”

“Nope.”

“Not the sister that seems to be about our age.”

“Nope.”

“Not the sister that seems to be about our age and plays soccer.“ And is hot.

"Nope.” Ron paused and frowned. “She’s a year below us, anyway.”

“Oh, then that explains it,” Harry said sarcastically.

“It seemed like more of a second-semester-of-friendship revelation.”

“I see.”

Harry held the silence between them for a few moments more before he allowed the next question out. “She plays soccer?”

“One more of the long line of Weasleys that get athletic scholarships to Hogwarts College. Except for Percy— no, he was a disgrace, he got in on an academic grant.”

“The family disappointment, truly.”

Harry wanted to ask more about Ginny, but he held his tongue. His friendship with Ron was the most precious thing his sophomore year of college had yielded him, and he didn’t want to jeopardize it by prying further or making it seem like he had the hots for his sister. Even though he did. He suffocated that small voice at the back of his mind: he hadn’t even spoken properly to Ginny, just stood there like an idiot and let her quip freely about his tattoos— which, mind him, apparently were fodder for locker talk back at Hogwarts.

The buzz of the needle in the backroom as it started up brought Harry out of his thoughts, just in time to see a shit-eating grin appear on Ron’s face.

“I wish I could see her face right now,” he said gleefully, and Harry let himself stop thinking about Ginny to join Ron in picturing what Hermione Granger must look like seated in a tattoo parlor chair.

“It really wasn’t so bad,” admitted Hermione as they exited the tattoo parlor and went down the little steps back onto the sidewalk.

Despite his pretensions of malice, Ron’s nobility (which had never been in question, even despite his teasing) had shone through and yielded a considerably modest tattoo: a small, capital “R” in his own handwriting. Hermione, who had almost cried with relief after Ginny showed her the design, had chosen to get it on her left thigh, on the side and at the very top, right under her hipbone.

“Why did you get it there?” Harry asked as they resumed their brisk walk back to campus.

“It’s not a place you usually show. That means if a sleeve shifts or an interviewer sees, I don’t know, my ankle or something, they won’t notice it.”

“As if a tiny ‘R’ would disqualify anyone from a job, let alone you,” snorted Ron.

“Professionalism is a virtue, Ronald,” Hermione huffed, though her cheeks had gone red. “Besides, since that part of me is always covered, I’ll save myself from having to explain the story behind it to anyone that spots it.”

“Yeah, except the bloke that eventually undresses you and sees you in your panties. Try explaining what that 'R’ means to him,” said Ron. But Harry suspected Hermione wouldn’t have to: from how Ron’s eyes had widened and his gaze had lingered when Hermione had pulled down the side of her jeans ever so slightly to show them the finished product, exposing a sliver of her underwear, Harry could almost wager that Ron would be the bloke in question.

They walked in animated chatter for the rest of the way, the tattoo forgotten until Ron made a quip about Hermione now having crossed the gateway to joining a biker gang and Hermione going positively beet-red in the face with outrage. Then Harry, his hands in his pockets, simply smirked to himself and resigned himself to their bickering for the rest of the walk, knowing he was no longer needed in their exchange. Instead, he let his mind drift to Ginny. She hadn’t really spoken to him again, merely ducking out from the beaded curtain backroom and instructing Hermione on how to take care of her tattoo, saying only a general goodbye to the three of them as they exited the shop. There had been nothing in Ginny’s manner to suggest that she might be thinking of him as strongly, as irremediably, as he was of her, and yet there he was.

The main quad was mostly deserted, except for a few scattered groups of late-night library frequenters or sneaking couples, as the three of them crossed it to get to their dorm. Ron and Hermione didn’t stop arguing as they climbed the four flights up to their floor (the elevator, as usual, was broken), and only broke it off because Hermione reached her room before the boys reached theirs, slipping inside it and shutting the door before Ron had a chance to get the last word in.

“Well, that went well,” Ron shrugged as he and Harry kept walking down the hall to their room.

“You actually got her to get a tattoo,” Harry said with some admiration as they reached their door.

Ron grinned as he swiped the key card. “I may drive her crazy, but if anyone was going to get her to do something like that, it was going to be me.”

Ron pushed the door open and let them into their dorm room. He closed the door and, without taking off his coat, immediately flopped onto his bed— or, well, what could be seen of the bed under mountains of dirty or otherwise discarded clothes. Away from his mother’s chore-mongering for the first time, Ron had let himself go wild and go to the other extreme, but even Harry had to admit that the army of socks draped over the foot of his bed was beginning to smell a little stale.

“So,” Ron said, propping his head up, “no parties tonight?”

“Well, it’s a Wednesday,” Harry said.

“So what? There’s no party spirit around here?”

“Ron, it’s the last Wednesday before final exams. People are studying.”

“I wasn’t aware I was rooming with Hermione,” Ron grumbled. Harry had to admit she might have gotten to him a little. However, Ron’s irritation was short-lived, a grin appearing on his face again. “Wait, but we’re not people. We’re not studying.”

Harry surveyed the room and, despite his desire to throw in the towel for the night and have fun with Ron, felt a pang of dismay at just how much grosser it would be if they caved and did that (last time they had, they’d had a Pringle-eating contest, with devastating results for their sheets, which still had some crumbs). “No, Ron. We’re doing laundry.”

Ron groaned. “Jeez, now I’m rooming with my mother.”

“Okay, fine, you don’t have to do the laundry. I’ll do it for the both of us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go hang out with Dean and Seamus or whatever, see if you can get Hermione to do her second wild-card act of the day and make her stop studying to hang out with the guys.”

“Now I’m a man with a mission,” Ron said, perking up in delight at the prospect of teasing Hermione, or even seeing her once more that night.

“Just shove your clothes in the laundry bag before you go, won’t you? I don’t want to touch your nasty briefs more than I have to.”

Ron obliged, tossing all the clothes on and around his bed into his orange laundry bag and pulling the drawstring to close it. “I’ll update you on the Hermione thing,” he said cheerfully, hurrying out of the room and down the hall to the left to the room they’d left Hermione in.

Harry laughed to himself, wondering how long it was going to take Ron to realize why exactly he always seemed so eager to do anything Hermione-related, as he too threw his dirty clothes into a checkered drawstring laundry bag. Then, he hoisted one sack over each of his shoulders and opened the door using his ankle and leg to let himself out, his hands full with the laundry bags. He stifled a smirk as he passed Hermione’s room and heard the familiar bubbling sound of she and Ron rowing. If Harry knew her at all, he knew however much she might argue she’d be out of that room in an hour tops.

He groaned as he looked down the stairs, and rued the day he had been placed in the dorm with the shittiest elevator on campus. Resigning himself, he began to walk slowly down the poorly-lit stairs to the basement, where the laundry room was. However inconvenient this descent was, Harry was at least comforted with the knowledge that the laundry room would not be crowded, which would be the greater inconvenience once the elevator was fixed.

The basement was even dimmer, the white lights flickering and buzzing with electricity as Harry walked to the laundry room almost at the end of the hall. Sure enough, the laundry room was deserted, oddly quiet with none of the familiar hum and rattle of the machines as they worked. Harry knelt in front of a washing machine and began unloading the contents of the laundry bags into it, cramming them in so they’d fit because he sure as hell wasn’t shelling out quarters for two washers. When he’d made it all fit (which had involved the use of force to jam the door shut), he went to the shelf that held the communal detergent and poured it into the soap compartment. With that done, he dug out eight quarters from his pocket and inserted them into the washer’s slot, pressing the “Start Cycle” button when he heard the clink that let him know his quarters had been accepted. The washer rumbled slowly to life, jets of water trickling out as it began to spin in one direction and then the other, and it was a couple minutes before it was spinning at a hearty pace.

Rising from his crouch (he had always liked to watch the washing machine as it booted up to wash in earnest), Harry took the laundry bags and turned to head back upstairs, already thinking of what he might do to pass the time in the hour he had before he had to switch the clothes to the dryer.

He was so caught up in thinking of this that he didn’t see the person entering the laundry room at the same time as he was exiting, which ended in an awkward clash between them.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry blurted.

“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry too— Harry?”

Only then did Harry realize who he had bumped into, and only because she kept standing there did he believe it. “Ginny?”

She still wore her Hole shirt, but had discarded the ripped jeans, combat boots, and round-the-waist flannel he’d seen at the tattoo parlor. Instead, she wore frayed gray sweatpants and flip-flops, her hair pulled up from the long ponytail into a messy bun. She, however, somehow still managed to look almost unbearably beautiful. What’s happening to me?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, the only thing he could think of right that second. Spotting the laundry basket she was cradling, he added: “No laundry in your dorm?”

“No, yeah, there is one, but it’s always too crowded, it being a freshman dorm and all.” Harry nodded: his first year, he too had done entirely more laundry than he had to, and was thankful by the quarters he saved just by realizing he could wear a pair of pants more than once before they were dirty. “So I use the one here. Much quieter. I know Ron’s ID and password—”

“You do?”

“He gave it to me once so I could pick up his books from the library. And my memory’s great.” She gave him a half smile and looked beyond him at the laundry room. “Doing laundry?”

“No, I just like the ambience down here. The shitty lighting and bleach smell are really my style,” said Harry. Ginny laughed, and Harry felt a rush of pride at what was probably the first witty thing he’d ever said to her. “Need a hand?”

“I’d appreciate one, sure,” Ginny said, again smiling at him. Harry moved so she could walk into the laundry room, and watched her pick one of the washing machines that lined the wall. When she’d settled on one, he crouched down next to her and help her lob the clothes into the maw of the machine.

“Tattoo parlor let out early?” he asked as they placed the clothes inside.

“More like you guys came in really late. You were my last customers— I just cleaned up and closed after you left.”

“And you work there?”

“Sure beats a regular work-study, doesn’t it?” Ginny grinned. She tossed in a Tide pod that was left at the bottom of the basket, closed the door to the machine, and rose to find the quarters needed to activate it. “Oh, shoot, I left my wallet in my other pants—”

“I got you,” said Harry, digging for eight more quarters in his pocket. For once, he was glad of his bad habit of carrying an excess of loose change in his jeans, something Hermione already got on to him about (sometimes, like when she’d gifted him a money purse, not too subtly).

“Thanks,” Ginny said, picking the laundry basket up from the ground.

Harry listened for the telling clink and then pressed the button. The washing machine whirred to a start, but for once, Harry didn’t feel compelled to watch it boot up: instead, he turned to Ginny. “So how did you come to work there?”

“At the tat shop?” Ginny asked, hopping to sit on the top of the washer where her clothes were spinning. “My friend Luna’s dad, Xenophilius—”

“Gesundheit.”

“Shut up,” Ginny said, but the hint of a laugh was (to Harry’s satisfaction) visible on her lips again. “Anyway, Xenophilius owns the place. He set up in a college town because he knows college is the first time kids are truly free to make rash, impulse decisions.”

“Like getting a tattoo?”

“Exactly. And besides, all the college students love his New Age bullshit, they think it’s very 70s, so his shop is always full. He got a big boost after he started placing crystals in the shop windows.”

“He’s in with the kids, then?”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll be mortified. But he’s great, really. A little eccentric, but great. He knows me from when Luna and I took an art class together in 10th grade, and he’s always complimented my art, so he helped me get my tattoo artist license as soon as I turned 18 and hired me.”

“Is Luna the girl with the shaggy blond hair and the weird glasses?”

“That’s her. Though I’m surprised you didn’t know her by her bottlecap necklaces. That’s usually what people comment on.”

“Does she work there too?”

“Yeah, though not as an inker, she’s useless with a needle. She designs a big chunk of the tattoos, though, both original designs and commissions or requests.”

“That’s awesome,” Harry said. He realized that was the first time through the whole conversation that he had stopped. He’d never hesitated on what to say next: conversation with Ginny had flowed easily, naturally, and he hadn’t had to think too hard to keep it going. Still, he was a little disappointed that it had stopped. Ginny, however, seemed to share in this, because rather than say goodbye and take her leave, she opened up a new topic.

“So how long have you and Ron been friends?”

“Er– since the start of this school year, actually.”

“Really? You’d think from how he talks about you, he’d known you forever.” Harry felt a flush of happiness at hearing that Ron talked about him.

“Well, I got him for a roommate this year, and we just clicked. Then it turned out we had a lot of the same classes. And we’re both on the soccer team, so it just got better from there.”

“It seems strange that you never crossed paths your freshman year.”

Harry shrugged. “I mean, freshman year is weird for everyone. I certainly felt like I was just bouncing from one place to another. I still hang out with a lot of the guys from last year, but my friends have changed. It makes sense— the first year, everyone is trying to meet as many people as possible, as if it’s a race, but by sophomore year you know more of what you want and what you’re looking for. In a way, I’m glad I met Ron now that I’m in a more stable place, now that I know my way around the college and have a better grip on things. I have a feeling he’s a friend I’m gonna keep.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sticking around the Weasleys,” Ginny said, and Harry felt a tingle run up his spine. Was she… flirting with him? “And Hermione?”

“Oh, Hermione’s great, Ron and I would be dead by now if not for her— I don’t know how I got through a full year without her.”

“But she’s very different from you guys, isn’t she?”

“Well— on the surface, sure, but not in the things that matter. The fact that she went through with the tattoo tonight when she could’ve kicked up a fuss and bailed out tells you all you need to know.”

“So what I’m hearing is that Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger is as much of a bonehead as my brother at heart?”

“Stubborn, is the word I’d use. And only when Ron’s involved, actually.”

Ginny smirked. “Idiots. They haven’t even realized it.”

Harry knew exactly what she meant. “You think it too?”

“Oh, I’d bet on it. Ten bucks says they’re together by the end of the year.”

“Hey, did our visit by the parlor today teach you nothing about bets? They can be dangerous.”

“But I’m betting against you, aren’t I?” The way she said you made Harry’s heart skip a beat. “Fine, not ten bucks. But I’ll bet you a load of laundry, how’s that?”

“Deal,” said Harry, taking Ginny’s extended hand to shake it. The touch of her palm, with its long, slender fingers, sent warmth coursing down from his hand and the length of his arm. They let go and dropped hands, and perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Harry thought he detected a certain reluctance in Ginny as they did.

Harry leaned against the washer, his propped elbow almost brushing up against her thigh. “How about you? How’s your first year going so far?”

Ginny winced. “As well as you’d expect, I suppose. Lots of people still behave like it’s an extension of high school, and I’m very much over that. But as things go, I’m having a blast. Being on the soccer team certainly helps.”

“Congratulations on that scholarship, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, her wide smile revealing a row of perfect, square white teeth. “You’re on a scholarship too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. My aunt and uncle would’ve never paid a single cent for me to go to college, so it was the only way. But I’m sure they were glad to be rid of me anyway.”

“They sound like lovely people,” Ginny said sarcastically.

“I should introduce them to this Xenophilius sometime. My uncle Vernon would have a stroke just walking into that shop.”

“Well, if you ever swing by, you have an insider contact,” Ginny offered, and Harry loved the implication of something, even something as simple as an 'insider contact’, between just the two of them. “I’d be happy to arrange a meeting, especially for such esteemed patrons.”

“I might take you up on that, if I ever planned on seeing them again,” Harry said. The words came out a bit more harshly than he’d expected, and the second silence in their talk set in, brought on by the darker implications of his family situation. Desperate to break it, Harry cleared his throat and geared up to talk again: “So, do you have any tattoos?”

He was relieved to see the smile, that coy, almost lopsided smile, appear on Ginny’s face again. “Actually, no, not a single one.”

“Do you think you’d ever get one?”

Ginny thought for a second. “I might, if something meaningful enough came around. And only if I was 200% sure. But really, I feel like one tattoo would lead to another, and then I’d never stop and run out of room on my skin. So it’s more of a containment mechanism, really.”

Harry smirked. “Hm. Interesting.”

Ginny broke out onto a full grin as she watched him. “What?” she asked, but when Harry’s smirk only deepened, she shoved him playfully, her touch on his shoulders eliciting the same warm sensation as the handshake. “What, Potter, tell me! Why is it interesting?”

“I mean, since you work at a tattoo shop, and you’re wearing a Hole t-shirt, I just thought you might be the type—”

“The Hole tee? Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna gatekeep it, like you’re the type of guy who’d be like 'name three songs'—”

“No, not at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t know a lot of music by Hole. I really only know who they are because of that one Fall Out Boy song Courtney Love was featured in—”

Ginny winced. “Not Fall Out Boy, please.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Fall Out Boy?”

“Harry—”

“I know they get a lot of shit, but really, their first albums are pretty good—”

“Harry, you’ve gotta stop right here, or you’re going to make me stop finding you so attractive.”

And just like that, there it was, out in the open. Harry felt stun: he felt his mouth open to offer a witty retort, but no words came out. Because the girlish grin had evaporated from Ginny’s face and turned into a different, more mature look, her eyes smoldering slightly and her mouth slightly pouted.

“What about you?” she asked, her words slower, as if she was choosing each one individually. “If the soccer team gossip is true, I know you have five tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice having dropped as well. “Yeah, there were a few tat shops around my neighborhood where the rules were pretty lax.”

“What are they?” Ginny asked.

“The tattoos? Well, the first ones I ever got were my mom and dad’s birth and death dates, on my wrist,” Harry said, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to display two small lines of numbers, in plain black ink, on his forearm.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ginny said softly.

“Don’t be, I was really small when it happened. But I still wanted to pay them homage. Anyway, I’ll not bore you with my family history right now.”

“But tell me sometime?”

Harry was ecstatic at the implication that Ginny wanted to spend even more time with him. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “Yeah, I will.” He moved on to the second tattoo, shifting the other sleeve up a bit to show Ginny a small black paw print in the center of his wrist. “This was my third one. My godfather was the only person my aunt and uncle would let me see while I was growing up, and even then only because he threatened them. And he had this huge, black shaggy dog, I think it was a Newfoundland, that looked almost like a bear, named Padfoot. I loved that dog, and every time I think of the happiest moments growing up, Padfoot’s in a lot of them. So when he died when I was sixteen, I got this to remember him by. It seems like a tribute to my godfather, too, so I like it doubly.”

He didn’t need encouragement from Ginny to keep going. He raised his left leg and propped it up on the washing machine by where Ginny’s legs hung, rolling his sock down a bit to show a green, line-art tuft of grass snaking above his ankle. “I got this when I got the soccer scholarship to come here. I wanted something to commemorate soccer, seeing as it’s not only, y'know, my passion, but also what got me out of that damn house for good. But I thought something like a soccer ball or a net or even the pitch outline would be too cheesy, so I got a bit of grass, y'know, as in the field…”

“Tasteful,” Ginny nodded her approval, and Harry felt newfound appreciation for that tattoo. “That’s three down, Potter.”

“I’m getting there.” Harry brought his leg down from the washer and turned his back to Ginny, taking his hand up to the nape of his neck and using it to shift the hair there upward to reveal the back of his neck where it turned into his back. “Can you see it?”

“The little lightning bolt?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the story of that?”

“That was my second one. To be honest, I was a little ink-happy after my first one, so a couple of weeks after I got it I went back and got this.”

“But why a lightning bolt?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, turning back around to face her. “I guess it was just cool.”

“Oh, very,” Ginny said, and the edge in her voice let him know she was teasing him. “That leaves us with one, then. The emblematic chest tattoo.” Again, the playfulness disappeared from her face and was replaced by that strange look, the one Harry couldn’t really decipher but really, really liked. “Tell me, then, Harry— is Romilda Vane right?”

It was only because of the suggestiveness in Ginny’s voice and the permanence of that look on her face that Harry did what he did next. His movements slow, he pulled his shirt off over his head, setting it on the washing machine right by where Ginny sat. He heard Ginny draw in a breath and it hitch in her throat as she saw him, her eyes moving over his bare skin to spot the ink blot that had brought this all on. Curled above his right pec was a small, S-shaped dragon, colored in red and gold.

“I win,” Ginny said, her voice still husky, as she extended her left hand to touch the dragon with her fingertips.

“Are you going to tell Romilda?” Harry said, his own right hand settling lightly on Ginny’s thigh.

“No, actually,” Ginny said, her palm now coming down flat on Harry’s chest. Her other hand had also drifted to him, and she had placed it on Harry’s left side, right below his ribcage, as if to hold the side of his torso. “I think I’d rather keep this moment to myself.”

And then she was leaning in and kissing him, touching her lips to his first with tentative softness that turned into a stronger, more determined fire as the kiss deepened. With both of Ginny’s hands on Harry, and one of Harry’s on Ginny’s thigh and the other supporting the weight of the kiss against the solidity of the washer, they leaned into one another. Harry’s mouth sought out Ginny’s eagerly, overcome by the fiery feeling pooling in his stomach and rising up to his throat through his chest, by the fact that everything he’d thought about on their walk back from Lovegood’s was coming true much sooner (and much better) than he’d expected. He felt Ginny’s tongue nudge at his lips and opened his mouth to let her in, engulfing more of her lips with his as he did so. Ginny kissed passionately, her tongue meeting Harry’s even as her teeth dug lightly into Harry’s lower lip, making him kiss her more deeply. With her this close, he was invaded by the flowery smell of her hair, by the soft feel of her skin, by the low humming sound she made as she kissed him. And everything was coming together, making the fire in his chest grow, and it was a good kind of burn, better than whiskey, better than anything—

The loud ding of the washer as it announced it had concluded its cycle startled them, and they pulled back from the kiss looking a little dazed, that one upbeat chime having been all they needed to bring them reluctantly back into the real world. Still Ginny didn’t take her hands off Harry, and Harry felt less than inclined to move his from her leg.

“I should, uh, switch to the dryer,” he said, the only thing that popped into his mind there.

Ginny tightened her hold around his middle and moved her hand from his chest, wrapping it around his upper back to draw him closer. “Oh, let it wait,” she said, and then she was kissing him again, and Harry was finding that the dryer could wait for hell to freeze for all he cared.

The sleepy sound of the chimes above the door didn’t even make Ginny raise her gaze from her stats study guide, which she’d pulled out to make the best of the not-too-busy lull at Lovegood’s. “We’re almost closed,” she announced to whoever had come in.

“You can’t make room for one last customer?” a familiar voice said, and only then did Ginny perk up immediately.

“Harry!” she said brightly, shutting the stats book as it became all-but-forgotten. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to add one more tattoo to the five I’ve already got,” said Harry. “Think you can give me my sixth?”

Ginny didn’t even need to say yes, just opened up the lift-up counter door and disappeared through the beaded curtain. “Flip the door sign to 'closed’ before you come through, will you?”

Harry obliged and flipped the sign before following Ginny to the backroom. He sat patiently on the tattoo chair as Ginny milled about, getting the supplies ready.

“Y'know, you never did tell me the story behind your dragon tattoo,” Ginny commented as she went through the sterilization procedure for the needles. “Seeing as we were, um, otherwise occupied…”

The memory of the kiss flooded through Harry with the same fire that he’d held in his chest ever since, the flame growing to engulf his whole body just hearing Ginny mention it. “Should I tell you now?”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“I got it as a tribute to my old headmaster back home, Albus Dumbledore. Funny old man, and incredibly cryptic, but he’s the one that first gave me the idea of applying for the scholarship and helped me get all my grades and papers in order so I could make it here. We were very close, and he had this saying that he used to tell me whenever I ended up in his office for getting into trouble— 'never tickle a sleeping dragon’, he’d say.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Harry laughed briefly and shrugged. “Hell if I know. But it was his catchphrase. So after I graduated, I wanted to get something to commemorate him, so I got the dragon from his favorite saying. He came with me and got it too.”

Ginny turned to him and eyed him quizzically. “Your headmaster got the tattoo along with you?”

“I told you he was a funny old man.”

Ginny pulled a pair of black latex gloves over her hands and rolled a wheeled office chair over to Harry, the needle in hand. “So by what I’m hearing, you only ever get tattoos of things that are extremely meaningful to you, right?”

“That’s right,” said Harry.

“So, Mr. Meaning, what’ll it be this time?”

Harry smiled. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it slightly upward, just enough to uncover his lower trunk. He pointed to a spot on the left side of his torso, right under his ribcage— right where Ginny’s hand had been, where her touch had been burned into his skin. “Right here,” he said. “I’d like a little washing machine.”

[messrmoonyy]

The fluff 49 with Remadora!!

I literally used to always just write from Doras thoughts yet here I am now obsessed with writing outta Remus’ head. Jealous Remus. We love to see it. Prompt from this list.

Prompt: ‘ is somebody jealous? ‘

Pairing: Remus lupin x Nymphadora Tonks

Warnings: mild language

You can find all my other writing on my masterlist and remember my ask box is always open, so drop me a request! Check my masterlist for who I write for!

Remus didn’t think he was a particularly jealous person. And he had plenty to be jealous of when he thought about it. But it just… never crossed his mind to be jealous. He was too far past having an emotion so useless, jealousy would never get him anyway. Being jealous of a man with more money than he had wouldn’t magically make a hundred galleons appear in his pocket. Being jealous of other people his age who were settled down with families wouldnt make his family return from the dead. Yet…. There he was, sat at his desk in the Grimmauld place library, practically seething.

He knew he was being ridiculous. Completely. But watching Sirius and Nymphadora laughing on the other side of the room was making his blood boil. He felt a little stupid in fact, they were related after all. But. The Blacks did have a bit of reputation for that didn’t they. And there was the matter that he’d heard Harry talking to Hermione about how he thought Nymphadora and Sirius were secretly a couple. And of course to top it all off Sirius had, and probably always would be, an absolute ladies man.

He didn’t really have a right to be jealous. Yes he and Tonks had been getting very… close, if that was even the best choice of words. He didn’t think close did justice right the several bouts of snogging he had found himself in a multitude of places around Grimmauld place. Only the previous night on the exact sofa she was pratting around on with Sirius now. Not to mention the nights Tonks snook into his room, or cornered him in the back of the library. And there was that one time he’d practically jumped her in the drawing room after a meeting. But there hadnt been any real discussion on what they were.

The only vague discussion being after their first kiss, when Remus has avoided her for a good four days after. Wracked with guilt that he’d let his self control slip. But she’d cornered him in the kitchen and forced him to confront the situation head on. He’d tried to tell her it was probably a mistake. That he wasn’t exactly the best of choices for her. But she’d told him he was ridiculous, that she didn’t care about his age. His condition. But there hadn’t been a talk on their situation since. He didn’t like to bring it up. Maybe it was simply casual for her. A late night hook up when she had stress form work to blow off. So he couldn’t be jealous could he.

But he was. Insanely so. His grip tightening on his quill as Sirius flung another awful joke at her and she threw her head back with laughter. Remus didn’t get it but she clearly did. He tried to distract his jealousy away by focusing on just how beautiful she was when she was laughing, how her eyes crinkled at the corners and her cheeks flushed pink. But it didn’t work as well as he hoped. Because if he noticed those things. Sirius must too.

“ if you two are going to continue being so noisy then would you just leave. Some of us are trying to work “ he snapped, slamming his fist to the desk for good measure. Sirius made some grumbled remark about Remus being a bore. But he didn’t care enough to pay attention.

“ ooo Tonksie that’s his professor tone “ Sirius said in a loud whisper before laughing again and nudging Tonks with his elbow “ sorry sir. Detention for talking in class? “ they both burst into laughter, Tonks steadying herself with a hand to Sirius’ shoulder. Remus sighed and tried to ignore them, his knuckles turning white around his quill. “ oh come on Re. Have a drink, lighten up “

“ I’m not in the mood. I’m trying to work “ he grumbled, purposely not looking over at she’d Sirius now had his arm slung around Tonks shoulders. He was being ridiculous. Though Tonks seemed to pick up on it.

There was then some hushed talking between the two of them, that his heightened senses would’ve allowed him to hear if he cared enough. But instead He huffed and looked back down at his mission report. There was the creek of the library door as Sirius left with another remark about how boring Remus was and then quiet. Assuming that Tonks had followed Sirius out of the room he debated on going to find her. But a few moments later her arms looped around his neck from behind him, her nose brushing against his cheek.

“ is somebody jealous? “ she said quietly, mischief evident in her tone. He’d hoped he hadn’t been so obvious. Clearly he had. Of course he had. He wasn’t exactly well practiced in the art of hiding his affections for someone. And besides, Tonks could read him like a book.

“ I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about “ he felt her smile against his cheek and she tightened her hold on him, bringing her chin down to rest on his shoulder.

“ he’s my cousin Remus. I might technically be a Black by name, but not by nature. Not really into the whole ‘ fuck your family members ‘ thing you know? Especially not Sirius. Merlin. It’d be like shacking up with a brother or something. Nasty. Ugh now you’ve put that imagine in my head “ she shivered at the thought and he couldn’t help but smile.

“ you said yourself he’s handsome “ he pointed out, remembering the conversation that had actually lead to their first kiss, in a much similar situation to the one they were currently in. His so thought non existent jealousy coming out to bite.

“ doesn’t mean I wanna shag him Remus “

“ you always have such a way with words “ she laughed lightly and moved around in front of him, hopping up onto the desk and folding her arms.

“ I’m quite offended actually “ Remus sat back in his chair and watched her intently. Her cheeks were flushed slightly from drinking “ I mean come. On. Remus. You’ll be saying I’m shacking up with Arthur next because I laugh at his dad jokes “ when she put it like that he guessed he had been a bit irrational with his thoughts.

“ I heard Harry talking about it with Ron and Hermione. I think most of the kids believe you and Sirius are up to something “ she scoffed at that and quirked an eyebrow.

“ so you’re listening to the theories of the most unobservant boy in the entire country? I mean I love the boy I do, but I think he needs a new pair of glasses. His clearly aren’t working well “ a small smile tugged at his face then, Harry was a bright boy but he did have a tendency to be quite…. Oblivious. To everything. Tonks was quiet for a few more moments before tilting her head to the side inquisitively, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. She looked deep in thought “ so what’s this really about then? “ Remus frowned and raised his hands as if in mock surrender.

“ nothing. I told you I heard Harry and the way you were with Sirius.. it’s nothing “ she rolled her eyes and hopped off the desk, stepping either side of his legs and wiggling to get comfortable in his lap. His hands flew to her waist, unable to stop himself as she placed her hands to his shoulders and titled her head again.

“ Remus “ her voice was slightly sterner but she was smiling at him “ you can talk to me. You know you can “ he debated telling her the truth. That he was just getting jealous because she could do far better than him. She could have whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. And he was scared to lose her. What they had, whatever it really was, was great. Remus hadn’t been so happy in a long. Long. Time. He didn’t want to push too far and send her packing. But he didn’t want to hang too far back and have her run off to someone else. It was a constant dilemma in his head.

“ you and I “ he started, not really even sure where he was going with his speech “ it’s good. It’s. It’s marvellous “ she laughed a little and nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“ it is. Though I sense a ‘ but ‘ incoming “ he sighed and fiddled nervously with one of the beads on her shirt. They were haphazardly sewn all over it and he wondered if she’d added them herself.

“ I’m just waiting for the inevitable “ he said after another short moment of silence. Deciding now was a better time as any to tell her. She was stubborn and she had him right where she wanted him. So it was going to come out there and then whether he liked it or not really.

“ ‘ the inevitable’ being?…. “

“ finding someone better- no now before you make that face let me finish. Please “ she had sighed as soon as the words left his mouth, sitting back slightly with an eye roll.

“ Remus we’ve talked about this. Can you just get it into your head, that I fancy you. Not Sirius. Not some random ‘ someone better ‘. You “ he couldn’t lie that the words made his heart pound just that bit faster. The confirmation being all he’d really needed. But there was always going to be that worry in the back of his mind. It would never go away.

“ I know. And maybe I’m a fool to keep bringing it up. But you have to admit that I’m not exactly at the top of most peoples most eligible list “ she took his face in her hands then, making him look her in the eyes. He’d noticed she didn’t change their colour very often anymore after he’d made an offhand remark about how beautiful her natural brown eyes were. They were captivating.

“ no one else bloody matters though. You’re at the top of my list. That’s all that matters. Maybe I’m mental. Maybe I’m not. All I know, is you’re one of the only truly decent man I’ve ever met. You don’t make me morph. You’re so respectful it’s practically dripping off of you. And you’re proper fit too which is totally just a bonus “ he hoped she couldn’t feel his cheeks heating up under her hands. But her smile told him she probably could.

It was odd for him to look at her and think that some one could ever even have the nerve to make her morph for them. To fit their idea of what was perfect. He thought she was marvellous in whatever form she thought was best fitting for her each day. He’d never dream of making her change. In his eyes, there had never been a more perfect specimen of a person to walk the earth. She made him laugh. Made him feel normal. Cared for. He couldn’t believe she would ever have eyes for him. But she did. And he guessed that miracles must truly be real.

“ I’m sorry for being so jealous “ her face softened again and the backs of her fingers brushed over his cheek.

“ it’s fine. I mean. At least it shows you care? “ she laughed a little and he felt his tension melting away a little.

“ I do “ her hand crept towards the back of his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair and she shuffled a little closer again.

“ good. Now stop being a mope and realise we’re on own again “ she whispered the last part, her face inching closer so he felt her breath on his lips. And with a smirk she caught his lips in hers.

[lovebykai]

Other

Pairing: Haiba Lev x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): Cursing.

Soulmate AU

Authors Note: Reposted.

Turns out, Lev was awful with kids.

You were just so tiny and so fragile and sure, okay, he was effectively just the apparition of your soulmate, but when you stretched your chubby baby arms out to him he nearly choked in panic.

What if he dropped you? Or you started crying? God, what if you shit yourself?

Of course, in a world full of different ways to find your soulmate, nobody thought twice about the way your tiny baby eyes had opened and promptly fixated on him; chalking it up to you being a curious, well-mannered newborn was easy enough rather than seeing it for what it was.

Somewhere out there, little Lev had a ghostly version of you tagging along until the day the two of you would meet. Whenever that would be. Lev couldn’t help but wonder if you were just as flustered trying to deal with little Lev as he was dealing with Little You.

Carefully, the boy lifted you from your crib, and your entire body went lax in his hold. If he tried hard enough, he could have interacted with you for longer, but when his form began flickering, he decided it was probably safer just to let you settle down.

* * *

You’d been there as long as Lev could remember. A constant presence in his life, literally brought to life just by his existence.

“Lev?” Your voice was soft as he rubbed at his eyes, sniffling. At the tender age of two, he was generally silent as a ghost. The handful of words he did know, he didn’t use often; you’d gotten so used to reading his body language that when something like this happened and you didn’t understand how to help, your eyes misted over with tears of your own.

“Y/N!” He sobbed, and immediately you’d pulled him into your arms. You weren’t sure why he was crying, but he called for you and you came, wrapping him up in your embrace with soft shushing sounds.

“I’m here, baby.” You cooed, focusing your thoughts on not fading away as he clung to you, crawling into your lap to get closer.

“I’m not going anywhere, Lev. You’re okay.”

* * *

"Lev!" You were three. "Lev! Lev, look at the cat!" And you really liked his name, apparently. It was one of the first words you learned; it made his heart flutter to think about. Anyone else listening to you would probably have struggled to understand your slightly slurred sentence, but he was the resident expert.

"I see. He's a pretty kitty, huh?" You grinned at him for a moment before looking back at the lanky creature.

"It's you." The declaration threw him off for a moment as he furrowed his brows, glancing between the cat -- who, admittedly, had eyes that were eerily similar to his -- and you. When your big, (e/c) orbs met his again and you gave him a genuine smile, he melted.

"You're my pretty kitty."

* * *

“--Y/N’s perfect!” Lev told his classmates, grinning ear to ear as you pressed your hands to your cheeks, turning a bright shade of red.

He’d been questioned about what his soulbond was, and it was like someone had turned on a faucet, because he took the opportunity to gush about how wonderful you were. It was flattering, but mostly just adorable because, y’know, he’s a kid.

“She’s probably not even real.” One of them scoffed and you tried not to glare at the eight year old -- because you were obviously much older and should have been more mature, but he was always such a little shit -- and instead pet Levs head as he glared hatefully at the other boy.

“You’re just jealous cause you don’t know who yours is yet!” The smug tone he used made you smirk behind him; you quickly schooled your features to look neutral when he looked back to you to see if you approved of his assessment.

“I am not!” As expected, the conversation derailed into an argument about whether or not his classmate was really jealous rather than debating your existence. When the teacher finally intervened, Lev smirked at you and you couldn’t help but snicker.

* * *

By seven, Lev was embarrassing for you to talk about; by twelve, you had established friendships and a handful of confidants that knew about him. Some even tried to talk to him, and he noticed that even though you were "too cool" to have much to do with your soulmate at that age, those were the friends you liked to invite over the most.

Fifteen was where things started to get weird.

"So? Is he cute?" One of your new classmates asked with a teasing waggle of her eyebrows, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"He's Lev." The answer seemed odd at the time -- not really a denial or confirmation -- but the conversation went on after some school girl giggles.

At first, he didn't really pick up on it. Call him dense, but seeing as the two of you didn't talk much anymore -- you’d said it was too embarrassing to explain why you were chatting with the air all the time -- it took him a while to notice the change in your behavior towards him. The subtle glances and pink cheeks. The way you'd bite your lip or tuck your hair behind one ear.

"What does he look like?" This time it was a different girl, and you let out an irritated huff.

"Tall. Green eyes. Grey hair." You mumbled, looking anywhere but at the curious stares of your classmates.

"Is he old?!" You turned an interesting shade of red -- all the way down your neck too! How cute -- and glared with righteous indignation.

"No! He looks like he's around sixteen or seventeen. But it's not like he can tell me anything but his first name, so who knows." Lev tried not to snicker at your defensive tone, but you glared at him anyway.

"He might be even younger. It's hard to tell since he's such a giant." Lev started laughing when you had to explain what you meant; with some coaxing from your friends, he humored you and the gaggle of girls who were trying to figure out how tall he was by standing against the wall as you lined up rulers.

He smirked at the way you flushed when he was declared at least six foot two; tried not to think about how much he liked the fact that you were barely five foot one, leaving him to tower over you.

* * *

He’d outgrown you.

Not emotionally or anything, because he would still tell anyone who would listen about how great you were, but physically. It felt like you just woke up one day and there he was, towering over you. Thus, the only time you felt bigger than him was when he was laying his head in your lap.

It was a rare occurrence, but you’d all but mastered being able to touch him; he practically purred when you’d hold his head in your lap after school, running your fingers through his hair. He’d had a particularly rough day today; his parents had started to rip into him about selecting more extracurricular activities, eager to start building up his college portfolio.

Truthfully, you thought he’d be suited to some kind of sport, but they were more interested in academics. It was why he was in so many language classes, not to mention all the advanced studies they were shoving down his throat.

“You should try volleyball.” You said thoughtfully as he closed his eyes, venting about how frustrated he was with life.

“Seriously?” At thirteen, he was unusually tall. He’d be great at blocks-- you had to make yourself calm down, remembering that it was only you who spent the better part of your time sneaking off to watch the sport when Lev was too busy for you. You didn’t think he’d ever even watched a game.

“Or basketball.” You added with a reluctant grumble, looking away from him as he opened one eye to smirk up at you.

“You just wanna see me in tiny shorts, don’tcha?” He teased, and you could feel yourself blushing, even as you whacked him on the forehead.

“I do not!” You only looked to be a few years older than he was -- maybe sixteen or seventeen, if that -- so of course you’d started to notice how attractive he was turning out to be. And sure, maybe you’d humored the thought of what kissing him would feel like a few times, but you weren’t just ogling him constantly or anything.

Well, you tried not to, anyway.

* * *

“Volleyball, huh?” Lev grinned as you watched the match, amused with the way you leaned forward eagerly as the rally between Karasuno and Seijoh carried on. The fact that he inherently knew some things about the game made him wonder if his other self played or not. It would be a pleasant surprise for you, if that were the case.

“No!” You gasped, looking devastated as the match finally ended in Seijohs favor, and he awkwardly patted your back as you groaned and held your head in your hands.

“Hinata and Kageyama are going to be inconsolable.” You muttered, and he tried not to feel jealous of the little redhead you’d grown so fond of since entering high school. You tolerated Kageyama on most days, but the fact that Hinata made you blush almost as pretty as Lev did grated on the boys nerves.

* * *

Lev smirked, practically preening as he spiked the ball once more. You weren’t sure how Kenma was handling your rambunctious soulmate, but you knew you’d hate to have to set for him. Especially with how much he missed.

“Did you see that, Y/N?” You laughed as he turned to you, looking every bit the excited puppy you knew he was inside.

“Sure, you managed to hit one out of the hundred or so he’s sent to you.” The way he slouched earned more laughter, and his teammates all looked to him curiously.

“You’re so mean.” He pouted playfully, moving to drop his elbow onto your head for a rest. You simply refused to manifest enough for him to, smirking as he literally fell through you and had to stumble to keep his footing.

* * *

“Team Manager?” You rubbed the back of your neck. “I dunno, Sho--”

“But you love volleyball!” Hinata interrupted your tentative refusal at his typical noise level. Lev knew how badly you wanted to. He’d spent the better part of his life flitting around you, after all, how could he not have taken notice of your tells?

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’d be a good manager.”

“You should do it.” Lev felt compelled to speak up, reaching out to gently brush his fingers through your hair. Hinata was unbothered by the way it seemed to move all on its own, staring at you with his eager puppy eyes. He was one of your best friends, so of course he knew about Lev and the way your soulbond seemed to work.

Your gaze was fixated on your soulmate, doe eyes wide as he grinned down at you and continued petting your head.

“Okay.” You whispered, and Hinata cheered. Lev laughed and it was like whatever spell you were under broke; you flailed at his arm and whined about how he’d messed up your hair. He just smirked when you spun on your heel -- face adorably pink -- and started chattering away with Hinata once more.

* * *

“Please?” His whisper made your heart lurch; you inhaled sharply as he leaned over you, face mere inches from yours.

“I just-- I love you, Y/N.” His fingers tentatively reached out to caress your cheek, and you let out a shaky sigh at the contact.

“I’m not… I’m not her. Not really, Lev. I’m just supposed to help you find her. I’m just your placeholder til you find the real thing. We don’t even know what will happen to me when you meet her.” You whispered, and he flinched minutely. But then he gave you a soft smile, pressing his forehead to yours with a sigh of his own.

“You’re both mine, though.” For some reason, his words comforted you more than they should have; when he leaned down to press his lips to yours, you melted.

* * *

“I met your soulmate!” Hinata barrelled into your room, practically screeching. You fumbled with your phone, so surprised that the item had been tossed into the air when you jumped.

“What?” The breathless way you said it made Levs chest ache.

“Lev! Lev Haiba! He plays for Nekoma!” You’d had to miss the training camp due to your awful test scores -- though Kiyoko insisted it was fine, and studies should come first -- and sure, you’d been disappointed. But the look on your face now was downright devastated. Lev felt a little sick just seeing it.

“You’re kidding.” Hinata shook his head fervently at the soft accusation; you looked at Lev with wide eyes as though he could confirm the theory.

Instead of speaking, he reached for you with long arms and you stepped into his offered hug. Over the years he’d gotten better about keeping enough focus to touch you, but it was still a difficult thing to pull off. He liked to save it for moments like this, when you obviously needed him.

“Did you at least get his number for me or something?” You asked as the thought occurred to you, and from the dumbfounded look you got in return, clearly Hinata hadn’t even thought to do so.

But then again, your other half must not have either; what the hell was your apparition doing that she didn’t think to ask? God, you guys were a hot mess, weren’t you?

“I’M SO SORRY!!” The shout got the attention of your mother, who very angrily -- and without mincing words -- told the two of you to shut the fuck up.

* * *

Lev had been unusually clingy lately.

After meeting Hinata, and realizing the little redhead knew his other half, you’d thought he would be more excited to meet her. You? Things were about to get really weird, you supposed. But instead, he’d dodged the conversation with a finesse that almost impressed you; when the training camp was over, he’d started reaching out for you more and more often.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He confessed, and you smiled softly as he held you to him. His face was pressed into your hair; his lanky body curled around you. You’d tried to be the big spoon once, but your efforts were futile; he preferred coiling around you more than the other way around, anyway.

“You can’t look at it that way.” You’d tried talking him into reaching out to her, but he’d simply said he could wait to meet the other you. Obviously, there was still a little bit of time, since fate had decided you hadn’t needed to be at the training camp.

But it was obviously ticking away.

“We’ve always been together--” The darkness couldn’t hide the way he sniffled into your hair, but you pretended not to notice how heartbroken he was over everything. “What if meeting makes you disappear?” You’d considered that; a small, anxious ball in your chest at the idea.

“You’ll have the real thing, though.”

“I don’t want it if it means not having you.” The rebuttal simultaneously warmed you and broke your heart.

* * *

“Lev?” You whispered, and the lanky apparition looked at you curiously.

“What happens when I meet the real you?” It was a weird conversation to be having on the bus ride to Nationals, but with the very real possibility of meeting your soulmate on the board, you needed to know.

“I dunno!” He laughed, tossing an arm around your shoulders and smirking at the way you blushed for him.

“Don’t worry about it too much, though. I’m just supposed to be a guide, y’know? I’m not even real, technically.” You’d resisted the urge to google what happened to the apparitions when their soulmates met, but only barely. And maybe a bit because you just didn’t really want to know. Mostly.

Looking at your constant companion, you mulled over what to say in response, feeling dread start to build in your chest. When tears tickled your eyes, he looked shocked, but heaved you into his lap with a huff as you tried to look away.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry--”

“I love you.” You blurted out, interrupting his attempt at comforting you by hiding your face in his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, rocking you a bit.

“Then you’re really going to love him.”

* * *

Meeting Lev Haiba was not what you expected.

You -- quite literally, to your mortification -- stumbled into the wall of a man when Hinata bumped you in his hurry to greet Kenma. The moment his eyes met yours, both widening in shock and a bit of horror, the world seemed to sway around you.

“Lev.” His name came out a whisper as he gripped your shoulders, eyes scanning your features hurriedly.

“Y/N.” An equally stunned murmur from him.

Almost perfectly in sync, the two of you realized that neither apparition had said anything; you both separated to look behind you for them. You knew, though.

The apparitions were gone. For the first time in your life, you were completely alone.

* * *

It took a few hours before the memories started coming back. Holding you as a baby, discovering your little crush on him; convincing you to take the manager position for Karasuno.

Lev simultaneously loved and hated that he got the memories of his apparition, knowing that you’d probably received yours as well and wondering how much his words -- spoken in ignorance just a few days ago -- must have hurt you.

Similarly, you were pressing a hand to your lips beside Kiyoko, flustered and frustrated that he loved the other you so much.  At least you knew the pair of you were compatible, if he could find room in his heart for you again.

Watching him play was breath-taking, despite the fact that he was clearly off his game. A fact you felt pretty bad about, but what could you do?

“It’ll be okay.” Kiyoko said, watching the game as well. You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat uncomfortably as you tried to will away your rattled feelings.

“Just remember that she was you,” She looked at you then, and you swiped hurriedly at your eyes.

“Meeting him should be a happy occasion. You loved your Lev, so you’ll love the real thing too.” Her soft smile -- understanding in a way that made you wonder if she was speaking from experience -- soothed your nerves, and you found yourself nodding a bit.

* * *

“This is weird, right?” Lev asked as the two of you sat next to one another in the stands. You couldn’t help the nervous giggle you let out.

“Yeah, it is.” The silence was suffocating. "Also kind of stupid to be weirded out over. I mean, it's not weirder than that time you walked in on me showering and broke the toilet." Lev turned an endearing shade of red at the memory before laughing.

"Okay, no, you broke the toilet when you tried to run me out of there."

"Tomato Tomato."

The two of you laughed, grinning at each other. Tentatively, you reached out to rest your hand on his, and he glanced down at the connection with some surprise before smiling softly at you.

"I'm glad you didn't disappear." Levs whisper made your heart flutter. Propelled  by his words, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his with more force than intended. He laughed against your mouth, reaching up to cup your cheek with his free hand.

[rosesloveletters]

Self-Shipping Reference.

I have been debating on creating a self-shipping reference for these two, but since I am certain of our dynamic at this point, I wanted to delve right in; I love Will and Jakob so very much and I wanted to create a little collection of our relationship like I’ve done before in the past. Most of all, this is for me so that I can have it as a reference, so there is absolutely no obligation to interact with this post. If you do, thank you for showing us so much love and care, I really appreciate it more than anything. This community is so welcoming of self-shipping and that means a lot to me<3.

last updated: June 17, 2021

please do not read if you are not interested in or comfortable with self-shipping.

word count: 2,908

Ship name?

Our collective ship name is Grimmrose, for obvious reasons (my poly heart can hardly take it😭✨💛) 

I do not feel I should need to say this (as it should already be implied), but since I do not want angry anons in my ask box about this, I will state: Will and Jakob are not romantically involved in our dynamic; the love they have for each other is familial only. They both share me, but that is as far as it goes. There is absolutely no incestuous aspects of our relationship. 

Date you got together?

Jakob: May 26, 2021. The open honesty and security within our vulnerabilities were what prompted Jakob and I to jump in headfirst. We knew how we felt almost immediately; Jakob believes in love at first sight and I value that sentiment. It was a mutual understanding that the two of us were meant to be together (even if I hadn’t already known, the darling would have convinced me - he is extremely persuasive and given to a dreamer’s mindset.) The two of us easily came to an agreement on beginning a relationship because of how similar we have found ourselves to be. It was not difficult to access what each other was thinking and how we chose to approach those thoughts and feelings. Jakob is driven by those, after all, and his bright spirit and general interest in the things that cannot be so easily explained drew me to him. 

Will: 

Platonic:  May 26, 2021.

 Romantic: June 14, 2021. 

Will was, to my surprise, not as difficult to access as I expected. He has a much different personality to Jakob’s; the two are near opposite ends of the spectrum. Will’s mission has been to protect Jakob, mostly from himself, but Jakob does not understand that the reason Will is so hard on him is because Will feels helpless around him. Jakob’s mind is so bright and open, while Will does not understand how to compete with that nor how to understand or fit into Jakob’s world of folklore and mythical, magical beings. He feels weak in comparison to Jakob’s spirit; Will values my ability to cross those lines and connect with both him and Jakob. Will has never known another to be so well-suited for his brother and he is respectful of how we interact, since until now he has been the only one who has been able to reach Jakob. We were platonic for several weeks out of respect for Jakob, but soon entered into a mutual agreement to share the love that we all have for each other; the brothers agreed to share me since they have both developed such strong feelings. 

Favorite personality trait?

Jakob: His sense of security within vulnerabilities. Jakob is more given to childlike excitement and the thrill of action whenever it is of a magical quality. He fidgets, has a distinct nervous energy/uncomfortable body language, a clear mind but one that fancies fiction over reality. Whenever he drinks, he’s giddy and excited; the only one who can get through to him in these moments are Will and I. The thing is, Jakob has never tried to be anybody but himself. He is aware that these qualities are not valued by the vast majority and are perhaps seen as weaknesses or even are simply frowned upon (much of this he experienced as a result of the way Will treated him over the years), but even all of that has never caused his personality to shift or made him close himself off. Jakob has always found security within who he is, regardless of whether those around like it or not.

Will: His protective commitment to those who he loves. Even though Will canonically admitted his frustrations over Jakob and how he “hates” his younger bother, stating how Jakob “drives him mad”, he is fiercely protective of him and committed to maintaining their relationship in spite of any disagreements or arguments. Will does not give up on those he loves. Even though it would have made sense for him to toss Jakob into the streets and leave him if he truly hates him, but Will does not. Despite his confession, he has never actually hated his brother; Jakob makes him feel weak, helpless and inferior because Jakob’s comprehension of things beyond Will’s understanding or compulsion to understand or look beyond what is right in front of him is too different and unusual to him. 

Favorite physical trait?

Jakob: His eyes. Jakob’s eyes are so expressive; they sparkle in the light and his irises twinkle. His soul appears as if it were made from stardust and every bit of him glows. His eyes reflect the innocence and playful mischief bound within him; he is a dreamer at heart and his eyes mirror that. 

Will: His smile. There is a scene when Jakob and Will first arrive at Marbaden and they are confronted by the townspeople with weapons, uncertain of who these two strangers are, and when Will tries to explain who they are his smile is simply dazzling. I believe that was the moment I found myself in love with him; I have not seen a smile so bright in a long time. Here’s a screenshot of his smile (Jakob’s expression in the background is so funny😂):

Couple song

We do not have a couple song yet; we have couple albums. 

Taylor Swift’s albums Folklore and Evermore are sister albums, so it only makes sense that they are representative of the two brothers respectively: Folklore for Jakob and Evermore for Will. 

Both albums are suited to the three of us; the feelings provoked from both establish the tone of our relationship. 

Pet peeves…

There is only one: their constant bickering/arguing and fights. It is natural for siblings to fight, but the longer I spend with these two, the more consistently they seem to fight in front of me. I do not believe the fighting affects their relationship as perhaps it did in the past; they seem very content, even after they’ve been fighting a while, and neither of them holds a grudge anymore. 

Favorite outfit on them?

I will share photos since it would take some time to explain in enough detail; I am a sucker for older/medieval clothing (perhaps this is why this movie spoke to me in such a way?)

These are my favorite outfits of theirs:

their armor is a close second, because it really makes me laugh:

Favorite meal?

Jakob: This bit is indicative of all of us and I was the one who introduced the brothers to this meal - vegetable soup; beef/broth, noodles, peas, carrots, tomatoes, corn, green beans, potatoes. The brothers are used to eating whatever is being served them at the pubs they visit and the inns at each town they stay and, needless to say, are not often prepared a meal especially one to their specific tastes. The first time I made this for them, they ate heartily and it has been their favorite since. 

Will: This is less of a specific meal and more of a eating habit of his, but Will is partial to sweet treats and desserts of all kind. His favorite treat is soft bread with a sticky, sugary glaze (wait until I tell him about glazed donuts😂) 

Early bird or night owl?

Neither of the Grimms are particularly one or the other. They both have been known to stay awake all hours of the night for one reason or another; Jakob stays up writing most nights when brand new ideas flood his mind and prevent sleep. He works whenever inspiration strikes and if that is the middle of the night, then Will or I will find him hunched over his desk, pen scratching away across the page as he squints to read what he has written under the low candlelight. 

Will stays awake late born out of a habit he has yet to change. He does not like to sleep very soundly until he knows that Jakob and I are either asleep or keeping each other company; Will takes responsibility of us quite seriously. Since we’ve begun a relationship, they do not go out as much as they once had and when we do, they are awake nearly the entire night and whenever they crash, they are both out cold. 

If I wake up throughout the night, Jakob sleeps so soundly that he would not know (he wears earplugs if we’re staying at an inn because the noise bothers him.) Will always wakes up whenever I do; the shifting around wakes him, but he does not usually open his eyes or speak to me until I come back to bed and he settles me back into my spot. 

Snorer or sleep talker?

Jakob: SLEEP TALKER! Jakob talks in his sleep nearly every night, most especially if he has had something to drink beforehand or if Will has gotten under his skin about something. Stress/anxiety also trigger it; I don’t hear him often, because he only does it in a deep sleep which is usually whenever I’ve already fallen asleep. 

Will: Will does not snore or talk in his sleep; he is unusually quiet, however, he will groan or mumble softly if he’s turning over or something like that. He does not move a lot when he’s sleeping either. 

Do you have any pets together?

No, our lifestyle is not suited to pets, unless horses used for transportation count. 

Pet names! (Both from them and yours for them)

Will’s for me: little one/little girl, peanut

Jakob’s for me: sweetheart, darling, lover

Mine for Jakob: Jakey, Beanstalk (turning Will’s mean comments into something sweet💕), Dreamer, Sweetie/Sweet One/Sweet Baby

Mine for Will: Blondie, Prince Charming (only in certain scenarios)

Ones Jakob and Will use collectively for me: Briar Rose, Rosebud, Unicorn, Beauty/Belle (a play off my favorite fairytale), Princess

Ones I use collectively for Jakob & Will: Grimmy

How often do you fight? What starts fights?

I have yet to have any fights with either of the brothers (though I have had mild disagreements with Will over the way he speaks to Jakob.)

Jakob and Will fight often and about everything, but more often than not, the source of the argument is their personality difference. Their interests clash significantly and they find it difficult to coexist at times because Will feels he must fill the role of Jakob’s caretaker, while Jakob simply wants Will to be his brother and believe in him. 

I usually do not get involved in their squabbles unless Will speaks out of turn. He can be somewhat hateful in the remarks he makes to his brother and I am not afraid to set the record straight. Jakob has gotten much better at standing up for himself; he is not afraid to get physical if things escalate to that point, though I have yet to see them lay a hand on each other. Jakob knows that one swift punch is all that he needs to deliver for Will to fall in line and understand that he is serious; he saves them for when he needs them and has only punched Will outright one time, that I am aware of. 

Who apologizes first?

This depends on who feels they are “wrong”. Will does not like to apologize, so usually it is Jakob who initiates the apology. Occasionally, neither will apologize and it is implied that they both have and things will continue on like normal as if nothing ever happened (this is best case scenario.) 

I have not known them to simply not apologize to each other for wrongdoing; Will has apologized to Jakob on a number of occasions where I have been present. If Will apologizes, it is usually for speaking too harshly to Jakob or bringing up the “magic beans” he has terrorized Jakob with for years. 

Big spoon or little spoon?

Jakob: Jakob adores being the little spoon. Even though he likes to hold onto me at night, nothing seems to compare to being held. Jakob has gone the majority of his life without being shown affection and tender love; he is so touch-starved that he asks to be held almost every night. 

Will: Will is the only F/O (aside from J) who I allow to be the big spoon on a regular basis. I trust him implicitly and know that he will keep me safe; he likes to hold onto me while we sleep so that he knows and can feel he isn’t alone. He does not like to sleep whenever it is too cold and he wants a warm body pressed against him. 

Dom or sub?

Jakob: Submissive.

Will: Dominant.

Will has had his misgivings over Jakob and I, both being submissives, entering into a relationship together, but it has not presented an issue so far. Most of the time, Jakob and I love all over each other so it doesn’t matter one way or another😂 It is rare for Jakob and I to be sexually intimate. 

Will takes on the more dominant role, since he has been so with Jakob over the years of their lives before they’d met me. Will is the nurturer and takes care of us both; he remains protective of us despite certain insecurities and fears. Will takes on more of the sexual responsibilities of their relationship with me because of his experience with women.

What are their kisses like?

Jakob: Jakob’s kisses begin as achingly shy, reverential ones that develop into slowly sensual, spontaneous or exploratory ones. Jakob likes to hold my hands when we kiss and I like the way his facial hair pleasantly scratches my face; he is always extremely gentle and never oversteps. I especially love when he kisses me with such eager impulsivity that our cheeks turn red and we laugh when it’s over. 

Will: Will’s kisses can either be covetous and greedy, fervent, and deeply passionate or chaste and flirtatious. He always cups my cheeks, chin or tangles his fingers in my hair at the back of my head while kissing me; his lips often taste sweet or sugary from how often he indulges on sweets. My favorite of Will’s kisses are the languid, open-mouthed ones when he uses his tongue. 

What do they smell like?

Jakob: Parchment, books and ink, candlewax, earth just after it has rained, sweet basil, a vaguely sweet musk, warm skin.

Will: Warm sugar, sweat/spicy musk, pine, flame. 

What are their hugs like?

Jakob: Bear-like, full-bodied, fiercely affectionate and warm. 

Will: Long, tight, unexpectedly powerful and almost needy. 

Who is more protective?

Will. 

Both brothers are fiercely protective of me and I know that, in spite of their differences, neither would ever let anything happen to me. As long as they are facing danger together, they would willingly take on any enemy (Jakob would never let Will face danger alone and vice versa.)

Interested in children?

No. Will says that Jakob and I are enough like children as it stands😂

Who needs the most TLC when sick?

Will AND Jakob. They are both huge babies whenever they are sick and all they want is to be taken care of. Surprisingly, they bicker a lot more whenever they’re sick; mainly, they fight over who gets to cuddle me first.

Whenever I am sick, I tend to react the same way and the brothers are more than obliged to take care of me in any way they are able. Will takes the more ‘hands-on’ work like fetching me a drink, food, blankets, etc. and helping me move about as I need. Jakob does not like to leave my side and he will not do so unless instructed by Will and he will fetch me whatever is needed and then return to cuddle with me. 

Who says ‘I love you’ first?

I was the first one to say ‘I love you’ to either of the brothers. I told Jakob first; we nearly admitted it at the same time. We knew how we both felt upon the first of our meetings. 

It took me a while to say ‘I love you’ to Will. Our relationship began platonically; I did not feel comfortable saying so to him until I spoke with Jakob about it first. Intuitive of human emotions is he and he was already well-aware of how we felt about each other and, with his blessing and consent, the brothers agreed to share the love and, well, me. 

Which of you is more accident prone?

I bet you’re thinking either me or Jakob. WRONG! It’s Will. Jakob and I are very steady on our feet because we are full of rambunctious energy; Will is more laid back than either of us and he gets more indignant whenever he does accidentally hurt himself. 

Bed hog?

Jakob is more of a bed hog than Will or I. He is consistently moving around in his sleep, talking, etc. There is one unspoken rule: Jakob sleeps on the left side of the mattress, I am in the middle and Will is on the right. Both use me as a barrier and do not cross to the other’s side of the bed at any point and they each take turns cuddling with me until we all fall asleep. 

Who loves the other the most?

As if it even needs to be said, we all love each other equally, but in different ways. Jakob’s and Will’s relationship and love for each other is strictly familial, while the brothers’ relationships with me are both romantic. 

Will understands and accepts that my relationship with Jakob takes priority, as we began ours first and I am unspokenly Jakob’s above all else. Any and all major decisions are made between Jakob and I; we of course always consider Will’s emotions, well-being, etc. but Jakob prefers to take the reins in terms of calling the shots, in spite of Will being the dominant and more protective one. He feels like Will owes him this and Will is happy to allow his brother this courtesy, considering this is Jakob’s first true relationship. 

[theimpossiblehologramtree]

It’s a date

Pairing: Zendaya Coleman x reader

Word count: 960

Warnings: none, honestly i think i didn’t even swear in this one... wow me,,, i didn’t proof read tho

anonymous asked: hi! could you do a zendaya x female reader where she gets hired as an actor, in either an avengers or spider-man movie, and it’s her first big acting job, and she meets Z and it’s all very cute and after some time together she’s friends with z and tom and everyone, then z gets a crush on her and toms like ‘you’ve got a crush on her’ to z and z is like what no i don’t, and toms like if u don’t ask her out i will so z asks the reader out and its all stuttery and awkward and it’s very cute, thanks!

A/N: OKAY BUT ZENDAYA IS A FUCKING GODDESS HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COPE WHEN I KNOW SHE EXISTS! Also sorry this took so long but i had a lot of work at the end of semester. The title lowkey sucks, but that’s bc I had no idea what to name it.

Please keep in mind that English is not my first language.

🐝masterlist🐝

REQUEST IF YOU WANT MORE

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Gif is not mine. Credits to the owner.

You walked into the building vigorously, a smile never leaving your lips. You went into the room a receptionist showed you and looked around. There was a large table in the middle of it. Small cards with actors' names on them were laying on it in front of freshly-printed script copies. A couple of people were bustling around the room, preparing water and coffee for the celebrities.

It was your first proper acting job, aside from a couple of small gigs and a few high school plays you did as a teenager. But it wasn't just some random movie no one would ever hear of. You have been granted a part of Gwen Stacy - Peter Parker's new love interest - in the new Spiderman production. It was one of the most awaited movies, which put you under a lot of pressure. Not wanting to be remembered as 'the one that is always late', you arrived twenty minutes earlier than you were supposed to be. Much to your surprise, you saw another woman already sitting in her place. She was sipping her coffee and reading her script. There was something familiar about her, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You walked over to her, debating in your head whether you should start a conversation or leave her alone. Finally, you decided to introduce yourself.

'Hi' you said, sticking your right hand out and smiling. 'I'm (Y/N).'

She looked up at you over her glasses and shook your hand, returning your smile.

'Hey, (Y/N)' she said, blushing slightly. 'I'm Zendaya, but you can call me Z.'

'Oh, that's where I know you from!' you exclaimed loudly. She gave you a puzzled look. Oh, great. You just made yourself look like a total idiot, you thought. 'It's just that I knew you looked familiar, but I didn't know why. Now I do. Shake It Up!' you tried to explain yourself. You fully expected Zendaya to make fun of you, but she only sent you a warm smile.

'I would have dressed up if I knew I would be meeting a fan' her eyes lit up, as she joked.

You sat down in your seat, which happened to be situated right next to hers. She offered you a cookie from a bag that was laying right in front of her. You ended up talking with her the whole time and quickly found out you had a lot in common. During the table read you exchanged funny remarks and jokes, which made you look like a pair of giggly high school students. The director and writers had to shush you all the time because you were making each other laugh so hard it was almost impossible to calm you down. Even though you two had just met, her close presence made you feel less stressed about working for Marvel.

-

'You're staring again' said Tom to Zendaya, approaching her. They had become very close friends during the production thanks to their similar age. Z snapped out of her thoughts, realizing that she had been, in fact, staring at you for a very long time. She blushed and turned her head to Tom, tearing her eyes away from you. 

'No, I'm not' she shook her head, playfully pushing her friend away, even though her red face seemed to be telling a different story. 

Tom sighed in disbelief. How could you be so oblivious to Zendaya's constant looks and shy flirting? Everybody on set knew that she had a huge crush on you from day one. And it would take an idiot not to realize that you are bisexual. Anyone could sense that from the distance, due to your always cuffed pants and longing looks you sent towards Z. 

'Geez, Zendaya, her eyes are practically never leaving you! Yesterday she walked into a pole because she couldn't stop staring at you in that summer dress' Tom said, waving his hands around and almost hitting an extra, that was just passing by, in the face.

'For the last time, Tom, she does not like me like that! And I don't like her like that either. We're just friends!' she exclaimed, blushing even harder at his comment. 

'All right then' he said. 'She's a really pretty girl and if you don't ask her out in the next thirty seconds, I will!

Zendaya opened her eyes in shock. She tried to argue, but Tom just pointed at his watch and whispered 'Thirty seconds, Z'. She moved towards you, still glaring at Tom and flicking him off. Her heart was beating rapidly when she approached you, smiling.

'Oh, hey Z!' you returned her smile, which made her melt instantly. 'What are you up to?'

Zendaya couldn't help but stare at you for a few seconds, before replying. What could she do, though? To her, you were the epitome of perfection.

'Ermm..., nothing really' she giggled nervously, feeling Tom observe her from the distance. 'What about you, (Y/N)?'

'Honestly, nothing either' you laughed.

Zendaya nodded. This is it, she thought.

'Would you, maybe, want to go get ice cream with me later?' she took a deep breath, waiting for your reply.

'Yeah, sure!' you said enthusiastically. 'Who else is coming?' you asked.

Zendaya blushed and looked down at her shoes. 

'Well, I was kinda hoping it would be just the two of us. Like a date' she whispered, too embarrassed to look you in the eyes. With her heart beating in her chest, she waited for your reply.

After a solid minute of processing what she just said, you slowly smiled and took Zendaya's hands in yours. Getting on your tiptoes, you pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

'It's a date, then' you whispered, leaving her speechless.

[matildaisautisticandproud]

April 8th - 30 Days of Autism Acceptance

April 8: What are some misconceptions/stereotypes about autism that you hate?

1. People with autism don’t want friends. Albeit this might be true to some, this isn’t true to all. Most autistics, I’ve found, want to have more friends, but either don’t know how to go about befriending people and/or people don’t want to spend time with them. Personally, for years, I always longed to have a friend who got me and that I could be open with. (I struggled to actually be myself around people my whole life and still do.) My roommate, Missy, is that friend now, but you don’t know how lonely it is going through grade school without a best friend.

Lots of other girls had besties and many of my friends had friends that they shared their most darkest secrets with; they were super close to each other. Since I didn’t know how to go about forming that connection and I am generally a reserved person, I never had that friend and it was painful. I wanted a best friend, but I didn’t know how to establish a strong connection, maintain it, and most people thought I was “weird” and didn’t really want to be my friend.

I don’t mean to throw my own pity party by saying this, but I was the person who others would one day make me feel on top of the world by including me, but then, would distance themselves once they were done with me and make me feel terrible. This constant cycle of inclusion and exclusion, interest and disinterest, was really damaging to younger me. It frustrated me and made me think the reason I couldn’t have a close, good friend was because there was something wrong with me. (There’s never something wrong with you (unless you’re a murderer or that of the like). It’s society who is in the wrong for tossing aside such a beautiful human being.)

2. People with autism can’t feel or express emotion. This statement is 100% false. By saying this, people are invalidating the emotions of autistics, which is never okay. It is true that many on the spectrum have the inability to recognize their own emotions and/or don’t express their emotions as “normal” people do, but we still have feelings. Just recently, I have gotten better at identifying what I’m feeling, but I’m still not adroit with it. Also, I think that I feel a lot more deeply that those not on the spectrum, as do many autistics. Because I don’t really express my emotions, I’ve had people say that I seem “emotionless” and “robotic” all throughout my life. I never did and still don’t think much of it; it’s just how I am.

I get scared, sad, furious, elated, and more. Just because I don’t express my emotions in a way you can understand doesn’t mean I don’t have them. My body language is just different. (Also, I’ve learned to internalize all my emotions and grievances so, no body really knows what’s going on in my head.)

3. All autistics are just like [insert name here]. As I’ve stated numerous times before, the nature of ASD is that no two manifestations of it are exactly the same. Two autistic people may share similar experiences and struggles, but autism still affects them at least slightly differently.

4. Autistics can’t understand the emotions of others and are apathetic. Many autistics actually experience “too” much empathy. Some are apathetic, but as are some people who aren’t on the spectrum. Everyone is susceptible to being apathetic.

5. An autistic person has only struggles; they’re just their autism. Yes, autism is a key part of every autistic’s life, but it is not the only aspect of who we are. I think people should focus more on what a child can do than what they can’t, overall. Sure, Mark may not be able to handle going to the mall due to overstimulation, but he is especially skilled in painting. People should focus less on faults and flaws. Just focusing on such things will make life drab and miserable; plus, people as a whole are more than just their struggles.

6. People can grow out of autism, and it is only present in children. I, along with many others, are proof that this is false. I dislike how the struggles of adults (with and without autism, ADHD, and other disorders) are ignored in society. Not all problems go away with adulthood; it isn’t some cure all.

7. “There wasn’t all this autism/ADHD/etc. stuff back in my day so, it can’t be real.” These disorders are very much real. Perhaps the numbers have been increasing, but maybe there has just been a decrease in ignorance and an increase in compassion and acceptance. Also, diagnosing has gotten much easier, and since there is more knowledge available (i.e. the Internet) than ever before, people can self-screen and then determine whether or not to be tested. The only reason I am diagnosed is because I took the time to research different disorders via the Internet and decided to get professionally evaluated.

8. “Autism is caused by one thing.” Whether this “thing” be vaccines, a gene mutation, bad parenting, trauma, etc., this statement has been proven false by science. When studying the cause of autism, scientists have found that in one person, one gene could be the contributor to the person’s autism while in another, it’s a combination of several genes. The cause is unknown, but bad parenting has been debunked. However, there is evidence to suggest that the presence of heavy metals within a person’s system may be a possible cause. (Numerous children with autism have been found to have high levels of heavy metals within their body.)

As for the vaccine statement, it is unknown whether or not they do or don’t cause autism. There was a study carried out with the goal of proving or disproving the claim, but since the data was skewed, the results are invalid. I don’t necessarily support the claim, but there is not enough evidence for either side of the argument for me to take a side. I am a neutral in this debate. Though, I don’t believe that one should risk the death of their child just because they’d rather not have an autistic child. We’re not that bad; several parents love having an autistic child.

9. Autism only affects the brain. Again, I and many others are living proof that this claim is false. Many people with autism have co-occurring conditions like allergies, food sensitivities, gastrointestinal disorders, and epilepsy. Personally, I have numerous food sensitivities and gastrointestinal issues. I haven’t gotten a name as to what is wrong with my digestive system, but I do know there is a problem given what I experience on a daily basis.

10. All autistics are intellectually disabled. All statements that start with “all autistics” are automatically false. Even if the claim doesn’t pertain to autism itself (i.e. a political belief), autistics, like other people, have their own sets of beliefs and their own lifestyles. We’re human just like you; all that’s different is how our brains are wired and the struggles we endure.

To combat this claim, many autistics have a normal to high IQ level and can excel in school. There are those who have lower IQs, but they still can excel. One’s potential to be great isn’t dictated by IQ or a disability (or an ability and/or advantage for that matter).

11. Autistic people are great at STEM (Science Technology Engineering Math) classes. No. Although I especially excel with math and loved Algebra and Calculus, not everyone does. Some of us are great when it comes to STEM courses, but others of us struggle. Not all of us are even remotely interested in STEM, as well. Some of us prefer the arts, labor-intensive activities (i.e. construction), et cetera. We all have our different strong suits.

12. All autistics are savants. Some are, some aren’t. Although we all have special interests, most aren’t savants, actually. I don’t know where I fall when it comes to being a savant or not, but I’m not some super-genius. I didn’t invent some new scientific thing when I was 12 nor did I make a groundbreaking discovery. I do want to do something great with my future career, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be worthy of stardom and fame or be labeled as a savant.

The one thing I dislike is how people dismiss the existence of savants because they hate the stereotype. Autistic savants do exist, as do non-autistic savants, and saying that they don’t is harmful. Stereotypes come from somewhere, right? Savants exist and they deserve representation and appreciation too.

13. Autistic people don’t have relationships and moments of intimacy. Yes, they do. I personally don’t want a relationship right now nor do I want to engage in such intimate acts, but others do.

14. Autism kills marriages. This myth was made widespread by the infamous organization Autism $peaks. Sure, it may end some marriages, but why marry someone who is autistic then? If you truly loved the person then, you would accept them, autism and all.

15. Nonverbal autistics are all intellectually disabled. Although some are, not all are. A handful are highly intelligent. Autism isn’t a one size fits all thing.

16. Autistic people can’t do anything on their own/will never be independent. Some autistics won’t be able to be independent, but not all. Others don’t need any support while some, like me, need minimal support. People with all sorts of aid requirements exist on the autism spectrum. Each of us needs differing levels of support; also, especially so if one also has a chronic illness, some days I will be able to be completely independent, but the next day I may need lots of external support.

17. Having an autistic child is a tragedy. Yes, autism does make things more challenging, but there’s a silver lining in it. Like every other child, autistics are capable of great things and have talents. If people would just look past the struggles, label, and faults then, they’ll see an amazing person who isn’t just a diagnosis, but a fully fledged human being.

18. Autistic people are just rude. On honesty, we are not trying to be rude when saying the truth. In our brains, it is something that is acceptable to say. Many of us thrive on being honest as our brains tend to rely on logic more than anything else. By pointing out the size of your nose, we’re not trying to be rude. Personally, I don’t really struggle with being too honest, but sometimes I do say things aloud that shouldn’t be said. I just think of it as uttering an observation; I have no rude intents. When I am trying to be rude, you will know XD.

On conversational difficulties, it’s not that we don’t want to talk to you, it’s that we don’t know how to continue and/or initiate conversations. Not all autistics struggle a lot when it comes to social communication, but some do. Those who do, we just don’t know how to go about conversing “as normal”. We can’t help it. We’re not being rude. I struggle to continue and start conversations, which has led to many people thinking that I don’t like them. If you want to have a proper, lengthy conversation with me then, you have to start it and be able to keep it going.

On eye contact, we don’t mean to seem rude by not looking you in the eye when talking. For me, maintaining eye contact is distracting, which means that my focus is being directed away from what you’re saying, making me not able to adequately listen to you. Some autistics have little to no problems with eye contact.

19. “You don’t have to stim. Therefore, you’re just doing it to annoy me.” For me, it takes a lot of courage for me to feel comfortable with stimming around you. So, by ridiculing me for doing something that soothes me, you’re furthering my insecurity about it and hurting me. People who stim do it to self-soothe and to regulate themselves. Would you rather I shutdown (go nonverbal), experience sensory overload, or even have a meltdown? I don’t think so. Let people stim. Some of us don’t stim, but it is a lifeline for some of us.

20. “You don’t look autistic.” Well, riddle me this: What does autism look like to you? Apparently, we have completely different views on what an autistic person looks like. For me, an autistic person is anyone (a friend, neighbor, family member, student, teacher etc.) from any walk of life of any religion, lifestyle, culture, etc. The “autism look” is the generic person to me. Is there a specific way we should look, though? Please tell me more about your vision of how an autistic person outwardly appears.

I could go on about this subject for hours, but I’ll stop myself here. If you want me to debunk more myths and/or react to certain common sayings/stereotypes then, please leave a message in my ask box. I really, really, really! want to write more about this topic.

[inkitonpaper]

The Seven Deadly Sins in a Relationship

LUST: very strong sexual desire

Their story started the way many stories start in today’s time and place.

After a night long of stolen glances, coy smiles - a silent invitation inside the deafening club and a small nod given by Camilla, culminated in the couple heading to the closest swankiest hotel.

As soon as the door of the rented suite was behind them, clothes were discarded and limbs entangled. Their lips searched each other’s, thirsty for the taste of what they had been promising each other all night. Their hips and limbs bumped and collided against fixtures as they blindly made their way to the awaiting bed.

“Camilla,” she mentioned breathlessly.

“What?” He asked, turning to face her, his eyebrows drawing together. His breath was heavy and his eyes a little unfocused. He didn’t remember asking anything.  

“My name,” she clarified cupping his jaw, pulling his lips to hers. “Camilla. I don’t want you calling me baby or honey or some overuse unimaginative corny nickname.”

He chuckled and nodded his head before resuming the magic he was creating on that special spot he had found just behind her ear.

“Lucas,” he murmured against the column of her neck making shivers run down her spine. “My name. I want to hear you scream it in pleasure.”

“So sure of it?” She said with a smile.

To her dismay, he stopped. She opened her eyes to find beautiful hazel ones framed by thick lashes. “Are you challenging me?” He asked with a quirky smile.

“Maybe.” She replied giving in to the temptation to kiss his inviting lips.

“I do like a challenge,” he declared. Camilla searched for his lips but couldn’t catch them as he laid quick pecks on her chin, neck and moving down between the dip of her breast and then even lower.

Her hand pressed against the back of his, the one pressed against her breast. The pebbled nipples poking his palm; and her hips bucked against his face. Camilla bit her full lower lip stifling that sound of pleasure. She wasn’t going to give in so easily. If he wanted to hear his name on her lips, he had to do -

Her eyes flew open and her lips made a perfect O at what the tandem of his fingers and his tongue were doing.

Camilla ended up using his name a lot more than he used hers which didn’t sit well with her competitive spirit. The ribbing she got from him as pillow talk made her issue a challenge which he happily obliged. They counted orgasms that night.

At dawn the score was a tie.

They didn’t exchange more than a couple of coherent sentences between them that night, but it was enough for them to decide to exchange numbers and decide that the score had to be settled, most conveniently after dinner the following night.

GLUTTONY: habitual greed or excess in eating

The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. The same applies for women.

One dinner turned to two which turned to three which turned to four. Another area they liked to explore and share, and were very passionate about was food.

They took turns at finding a new restaurant, a new cuisine, at sharing what they enjoyed about the food, about the culture. Lucas took her to his favorite French restaurant on their first date, impressing her with his knowledge of the language and his taste in wine. That was one luxurious sensual night the two would fondly remember.

Camilla took him to a small intimate Japanese restaurant. The sushi chef prepared sushi right in front of them. They got to watch a seasoned master showcase his expertise. In between bites they took the time to get to know each other. Something they weren’t able to do during their first date as both were enjoying a game of footsie under the table while they smirked and flirted.  The relatively more casual environment of the Japanese restaurant let them be more relaxed and comfortable to open up. They held hands when they walked out of the restaurant.

Somehow, that act felt even more intimate than their previous nights together.

An article on a pop-up restaurant was shared on Facebook by a friend and Lucas’s first thought upon reading the article was to invite Camilla. He remembered Camilla mentioning that she had never tried molecular gastronomy before. Lucas was eager to lead her into this new territory, experience her first time with her. He definitely didn’t regret it. He loved watching Camilla’s eyes shine with excitement; he laughed at her sense of humor; he especially enjoyed the sounds of appreciation she made at how rich the matcha mousse was. Lucas would work hard in recreating those sounds in bed later that night.

A couple of days later Camilla was staring at the ceiling still trying to make a decision. On her phone, Lucas’s latest message was still displayed: Where are you taking me tonight beautiful?

It was her turn to decide their date but Camilla was stumped. The previous dates were all so extra she felt like she had to continue the streak. Lucas looked most comfortable in the middle of high class. He took her to expensive French cuisine and then to molecular gastronomy. As much as Camilla enjoyed that, she felt a little out of depth. Opening her closet she found that her three good evening dresses had all been worn before. If she brought him to that Greek restaurant she felt like she had to dress up at least a little.

Camilla sighed. Was this how it was going to be from now on? She loved lux as much as any girl but she wondered if Lucas was only about that. This was no one night stand, this was no hook-up anymore. They were in constant communication, they had escalated to having private jokes, they were dating.

Dating.

The word felt foreign but she knew this was the proper label to their situation now. Dating meant assessing the other as a possible partner. Did she want that?

Yes.

The question had barely formed in her head that the answer was already spoken. She wouldn’t mind dating Lucas, which meant she needed to see if they really were compatible.

Camilla quickly sent Lucas a reply and then grabbed a shirt and jeans before heading to the bathroom to prepare.

***

Lucas’s meeting ran a little later than he anticipated. He had hoped to go home and clean-up but instead now he was rushing to the restaurant Camilla had decided on. He checked his Cartier and hissed. He started to jog, apologizing as he bumped into people or cut them. He was a sight, His tailor-made dark suit jacket flapping, his Italian leather shoes put to undue stress as he rushed through the throng of mall goers. He looked around, arriving at the 3rd floor of the mall where most of the restaurants were.

Lucas spotted the neon sign reading “Prime” and sighed in relief only for that relief to be short lived seeing Camilla just a few meters in front of him. He picked up the pace and as he passed her, he called her name getting her attention.

“What are you doing?” She asked as he jogged to the front of the restaurant.

“Two tables for me and my late date here,” He told the waitress and winked at her.

“I’m not late,” Camilla said as she joined him by the entrance.

Lucas just smiled and offered her his arm, and then following the waitress to their table.

Lucas thanked the waitress over the menu, and she asked them to call if they had any questions or were ready to order.

“You could have just walked with me,” Camilla told him.

“What impression would I make arriving after the lady?” He asked. “I’m trying to make a good impression here.”

“Which is why you’re in a three-piece suit?” Camilla asked.

Lucas chuckled, embarrassed, and trained his eye on the menu. Camilla didn’t look too impressed.

“I apologize. Meeting ran a little long,” he explained and she nodded.

“No, I apologize,” she said. “This obviously is not your comfort zone. Would you like to leave?”

Lucas’s forehead scrunched.

“Ah yes, I’m not dressed for a fancy restaurant,” Camilla remarked which brought Lucas’s attention away from her beautiful brown eyes to her clothes. Lucas’s lips formed a smile at the design of her blouse, it had small fries printed on it.

‘I think your blouse is very cute. I have socks with a similar print. I love fries,” Lucas looked thru the menu “Yes! They have waffle cut fries! They’re the best!” He said excitedly which seemed to take away the tension off Camilla’s shoulders.

“Those are just fat chips. We want fries, and fries are long and thin,” Camilla replied giving him a smile.

“Waffle cut fries hold on dips or sauces much better than regular fries.”

The two launched into a long debate on fries which then turned into a conversation on burgers and whether to eat them with a knife and fork.

“Those people are just animals!” Lucas said. “A good burger needs to be eaten with the hands. If the meat juices and the sauces don’t drip to your elbows, was the burger even juicy?”

Camilla laughed. “That poor beautiful suit.”

Lucas promptly took off his jacket and folded the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I’m ready.”

Camilla was glad to see that Lucas just radiated sophistication but wasn’t -

“A snob?” He said the word with palpable disgust.

“Well, you kept bringing me to fancy places and you looked so comfortable in them,” Camilla tried to explain.

“Well now I feel a little snobby.”

“No! You’re not! You’re great! Really! You’re not a snob. I see that now. You just look good in the middle of high society and between common mortals.”

Camilla watched for his reaction but he returned her gaze.

“Keep telling me how good I am. Go on,” He urged her but the small tremble on the corner of his lips gave away that he was teasing her.

She threw a small fry at him and he roared in laughter.

“You said you liked Asian food,” Lucas recalled from their previous date. “I wanted to take you to the whole in the wall near my office. They make the best Pad Thai but I think even like that you’re overdressed.”

“I’ll come in my PJs. They’re the most comfortable clothes I own.” She replied with a smile.

“Ohh! I can just imagine. Cotton. Long sleeves. Buttoned up to the neck. Sexy.” He bit his lip before both of them burst out laughing.

SLOTH: excessive laziness or the failure to act and utilize one’s talents

When the honeymoon phase dies down makeup starts to fade, suits aren’t as crisp and a pickup lines start to run out, and a routine starts to settle in the relationship.

What they initially saw as exciting in the beginning of their relationship was starting to feel overrated. Dancing till three in the city’s best nightclubs was getting tiring. Dinner dates in the hottest new restaurant with the most promising chefs, or finding a hidden gem of a dish was not as exciting as before. The two slowly started spending more and more time on each other’s couch snacking on delivered meals and binging old TV series.

Camilla realized they were no longer in the honeymoon phase when she farted and it took a full minute for both of them to realize that the sound came from her. Camilla’s first reaction was to jump on her feet, ready to sprint, but she didn’t run away because she was stopped by the loud boisterous laugh of her boyfriend.

“How did that sound come from you when you’re that small?” He asked holding his sides as he kept quacking in laughter. He took a deep breath and then released a long loud fart.

“I can finally stop clenching my butt cheeks,” he said draping his arms over her shoulders and bringing her close to his side.

Another sign that they had passed the honeymoon phase - the trash that surrounded them. They no longer seemed to care to make a good impression on the other.

“What a mess,” Camilla stated as her eyes landed on the mass of plastic containers from their dinner date and that of previous ones. Bottles of wine lay hazardously on the floor. “We’re pigs.”

“You do sound like one.” He said then blowing a raspberry earning him a slap on the arm from Camilla.

“Clean up after yourself will you,” Camilla said as she continued to flick through the options on Netflix.

“We’re going to make a mess anyways. What’s the point?” Lucas asked, nuzzling the side of her head.

“This is a pigsty.”

“You could clean it.” Lucas suggested and Camilla gave an offended gasp.

“Just because I’m a woman?”

“Just because you’re a better person than me.” Lucas said giving her a big wide grin.

Camilla rolled her eyes.

It didn’t bother either one of them at first how comfortable they had become in the other’s presence taking this as a sign that their relationship had matured into a less physical and shallow relationship.

It didn’t bother them...at first.

ENVY: intense desire to have an item or experience that someone else possesses

One should never compare their relationship with those of others but even if one knows this, they cannot stop themselves from doing it.

She gets envious with how in love other couples looked. Camilla couldn’t remember the last time Lucas and she had an actual date night - the kind they used to have in the beginning of their relationship. The one that left you feeling fuzzy and warm inside. Nowadays she just felt bloated tired after one of their nights in.

Seeing dirty dishes in the sink used to make her chuckle, jokingly remark at how much they ate; now it made her skin crawl at their laziness. Picking up discarded underwear strewn across the place used to make her grin, thinking of the passionate night they shared; now it felt repulsive picking up dirty underwear off dirty floors. Most of all, what she used to think of as a mature relationship was starting to become boring.

In hopes to spice things us, Camilla set up a double date with a work friend of hers. Maybe they’ve been too content sitting in their own bubble, Camilla thought. It was time to remind themselves what it meant to be in the honeymoon stage once again, and to ignite that fire they used to have. She wanted to be excited to see him again, not because that was routine for them.

However, what the date showed Camilla was a relationship she yearned to have. She wanted Lucas to pull her seat for her. She wanted them to bring their heads close together and share a private joke. She wanted them to play footsie together and not get annoyed. She wanted them to make an effort towards each other again. Kisses now felt either obligatory or just a slip of the mind, like raising one’s hand to wave hello or goodbye.

As she listened to her girlfriends discuss their relationships, Camilla only identified more and more faults in her own relationship. She closed herself off more from Lucas, wishing to unsee the flaws in their relationship. She spent more time with friends, claiming she’s been so into the relationship she was losing touch with other people.

Camilla heard distance made the heart grow fonder; she really hoped that was the case.

GREED: excessive pursuit of material good

Once the status quo is disrupted, tension rises.

Lucas noticed small changes here and there, but it took a while for him to see the whole picture. It wasn’t a good picture. He had taken to Camilla like a child takes to sugar. It was instantaneous, it was a high, and he constantly craved it. He wasn’t a relationship kind of guy but when a connection was made, the businessman in him knew better than to let a deal slip through his fingers.

He wasn’t a very good boyfriend, he knew it. He didn’t have much practice in being one. Great bed partner, skilled business partner, but just a general partner...not so much.

He felt hurt when she threw back at him that they were spending too much time with each other. He wanted to spend time with her, isn’t that what a relationship was about? What was the point in having labels if those labels meant nothing. It ate at him that she would prefer to go out with her colleagues rather than stay in with him. It hurt that she was on the phone with others when she was with him. It hurt that she was drifting away.

So he made an effort to show her why she should choose him. He went all out in a romantic weekend out of town. Being in a new place, all the new activities, all the time alone brought them close together. For a little while after the trip everything seemed back to normal until it wasn’t once again.

Lucas wanted to know why Camilla was acting that way. He knew it couldn’t be anything he had done when he was the only one working to make their relationship work. She was the one putting space between them. There was no space between girl/boy and friend, Lucas thought to himself, they should be one unit.

Suspicions rose when Lucas noticed that a certain guy was in many of Camilla’s pictures. He asked her about him, and she laughed at his accusations. If Camilla thought the blasé way she answered him would emphasize how absurd his suppositions were and pacify his fears, she was wrong. It only made him more suspicious. When she bailed on their weekend for a company outing, and he saw the guy too close to Camilla for Lucas’s comfort, the green beast in him was unleashed.

The moment Camilla returned from the trip, the two had heated words. The jealous and possessive side of Lucas came out. The lack of restraint and the intensity in Lucas’s eyes and tone didn’t scare Camilla. She trusted him, she knew he’d never hurt her. Instead, this change in him only aroused her, She played defenseless when he swept her off her feet and onto her back. She let him take lead as he asserted his dominance over her. She parroted the words he wanted to hear, while her hold body and mind was focused at what he was doing to her body.

That night was one to remember for Camilla. She loved the feeling of control and power it gave her. She might have been under him but she knew she was the one driving the situation. She felt empowered knowing she could break Lucas’s cool and evoke such raw emotions from him, drive him wild because of wanting her. She felt desired. She craved the attention he gave. She tried to evoke that roughness in Lucas over and over again. Camilla continued to play, finally finding that spark with Lucas once again.

With every tease of Camilla, with every picture posted of her and that guy, Lucas’s patience got shorter and shorter. His calls to her became more often, his tone more commanding and demanding, his hold suffocating. Everything, everyone, had a limit.

WRATH: uncontrollable anger and hate towards another person

When you let something simmer for a long time, it tends to boil and spill over causing a mess.

Lucas’s mind was filled of scenarios of Camilla leaving him. His fear and love for her drove him to a man he would, down the years, hate. Suspicious of her, doubting himself, paranoia starts to kick in. Feeling cornered he lashes out and Camilla is at the end of his scathing accusations.

She no longer finds it cute. She no longer finds is empowering. Camilla doesn’t want this man, she wants her Lucas back; the one who shared her day with him, who stole her side, who laughed at her jokes and held her at night. She wanted his trust back, she wanted his smile back. Yet all she got was suspicions and sneers.

One night the two couldn’t dance around the issue anymore and finally had words. The discussion turned to a fight, words became insults, the voice got louder and the pitch higher. They threw accusations that they didn’t mean in efforts to protect themselves, shield themselves of the pain the other was inflicting.

And just a quick as the argument rose, it died sending the house into silence. Camilla left Lucas’s place without even slamming the door and that showed just how angry she was. Collected, cold, silent was Camilla’s way of communicating the depth of her anger. On the other hand, Lucas lashed out screaming and wrecking havoc in his living room. He went to bed with all the frustration he felt.

PRIDE: excessive view of one’s self without regard for others

Being right isn't always the best pick.

They’ve had fights before. Stupid fights over which school was better, or where to eat. More serious arguments over contrasting ideological views. But after fighting they always found a way to compromise. Neither of them felt there could be a compromise this time.

Camilla wanted Lucas to see that he was out of line. That he had changed, and not for the better. Lucas wanted Camilla to see that her actions were causing the friction in their relationship. Both stood their ground, waiting for the other to see the error in their ways. Both waiting for the other to come grovelling.

As time passed, their resolved started to wane. They missed each other. They wanted to hear their voice, wanted to share their day, wanted to hold the other. They replayed the scenario over and over in the heads, analyzing everything they said, they did.

Camilla knew she shouldn’t have pushed Lucas, she should have raised her concerns over their relationship getting stagnant.  Lucas agreed that he had started to act unnaturally; but his fear of losing her had taken the driver’s seat. He knew that he should have trusted her because he did. He knew she was a better person than he let himself believe.

They talked about their situation with everyone but each other. Their friends sided with them, agreed that the other should be the one to humble themselves, to seek the other. Lucas and Camilla’s ego got stroked by well meaning friends reminding them they were great people who had a multitude of options waiting out in the world if the other didn’t see their value, and that it was the other’s loss if they didn’t see the error in their ways.

Neither wanted to reach out first, Neither wanting to admit they were wrong. Neither took a chance to make things right.

Unfortunately, their story ended the way many stories end at this time and age.

The End

[confirmation-of-practice]

Project Reassessment: Hereford Cathedral Contemporary Works

https://www.christiantoday.com/article/hereford.cathedral.hits.back.at.criticism.of.grayson.perry.art.display/107643.htm

https://www.herefordtimes.com/news/15232715.grayson-perry-response-to-mappa-mundi-questions-heavens-existence-while-featuring-obscene-language/

In correlation with my project assessment and evaluation I have decided to research other works around the topic of religion again. This process is something I preformed earlier in the project and greatly informed my direction, however, I want to repeat it again so I might repeat this process of injecting external invigoration to my ideas and project. This time I will be widening my net to incorporate works that also refer to metaphysical questioning/investigation as I feel they ask many of the questions religion hopes to answer. The goal in this is to get a boarder understanding of how to approach questioning complex issues in a eloquent and effective way. 

In this post I will be looking at the piece created by Grayson Perry titled 'map of nowhere' which refers to the Hereford Cathedrals “Mappa Mundi” and the “Ebstorf map”. The piece (featured above at the top) is discussed in Christian Today using quotes from Perry himself and Chris Pullin the cathedral's chancellor Rev stating:

 “In Perry's alternative his own body is labelled with offensive descriptive words and a house labelled as Oxbridge is next to a group of abandoned schoolchildren. In the notes underneath his work, Perry says: 'The basic formal design came from a German Mappa Mundi called the Ebstorf map, which was destroyed in the Second World War.'It showed Jesus as the body of the world. My daughter often accuses me of setting myself up as God so I made the lakes and rivers into my body. The whole idea of alchemy and a spiritual body fascinates me.'

In the work Perry refers to the idolisation of self and the interaction between the human body and transmutation of matter i.e. Alchemy which is in a sense very similar to my own project and pursuit to investigate the idolisation of the object and the transmutation of the object (bread/wine to body/blood through transubstantiation) . They both certainly bare similarities and I find it very interesting how we have approached the topic so differently, Perry has pushed the idolisation (to worship/ make divine) unto himself making his body the world and its planetary alchemic reactions just a function of his body. This differs greatly from my own path of making the ‘other’ sacred and divine, this in some ways is intrinsic to craft as it is the object you work upon not yourself (most commonly) and so I have chosen to formulate my project around the best candidate I can find, this being the soap and its soap dish reliquary. Again I feel there is a connection between the way that Chemical reactions occur through washing that are addressed in Perrys ‘alchemic’ depictions. We both are expressing the magic that people perceive in religion in some way. 

The work itself is inspired in part by the Mappa Mundi a map I have been able to visit many times, I am also lucky enough to have spoken to Chris Pullin myself in an interview previously, where we discussed the importance of questioning faith. This sentiment is carried by Chris still in his interview which I respect greatly. Perry is an open and prolific atheist having openly debated and discuss his view on numerous occasions, this can in some ways be understood by viewing his works alone without prior knowledge. This could be from the clear satire of making the world inside himself opposed to inside Christ, which is in some religious views considered sacrilege, although this can be debated. Going back to Chris I think one of the reasons he does not take issue with potentially offensive works is because he one has an appreciation/understanding of modern art, but also believes that the more people question and push back at faith is when it becomes its most strong. This can be seen in many examples America being a prime one, where the separation of Church and state is made clear. This separation did not however reduce religions influence but instead exacerbated it to an almost unseen scale. I think this sentiment is held true whenever you question people, we tend to jump to the aggressive defence and become more steadfast in their views. Why this occurs I dont know at all but it does and as a result of it whenever religion is pushed back upon it often becomes much stronger. This begs the question of whether as an atheist if Perry offends people whether this offence will serve to make people more religious opposed to less. Of course it is very possible Perry has no intention of trying to change or convert people in anyway and instead is trying to point out an observation though his lived experience and research. 

This is where my project lies also, in the realm of making an observation like all art does. The line I tread with my project is similar to Perry’s, I do not wish to offend directly, although people can be offended by whatever they like, instead I want to investigate my ideas carefully, considerately and meaningfully. I want it to be innovative and not futile or aimlessly provocative. It is hard to understand whether this is the case or not though, especially when surrounded by such profound and meaningful work. What I have decided on is the only sensible thing, develop what I believe in or think is valuable. Through doing this I am still left with the same core idea I started with. Now I wish to develop it and make it mature through constant scrutiny and comparison, this seems harsh to be so critical of my ideas but if I truly believe in the idea I should not fear it being tested harshly. This is not to say I do not think it is flawed as it most certainly is and possibly completely, however I think this is the best candidate I have considered so far to make that leap of faith with.

What I have learnt from Perry’s ‘Map of nowhere’ is that the way I can question my ideas can be radically different from others, this route I have taken is not the same as anyone's else's would have been, for better or worse. It has given me pause to consider how I might tackle certain aspects of my ideas by referring to how Perry has done it, possibly using subtle illustrations and motifs like he has. I think that decisions like considering why I chose to make the soap the shape of a communion wafer is essential in the success of my project and how I can make the piece itself meaningful in  layers to myself and also the potential viewer. 

[maiassensibleblog]

Privilege and Power: The role of mixed-raced people in the anti-racism movement

Disclaimer: This is an opinion piece but please do call me out on any way I’ve messed up here.

During this article, I am using mixed to describe anyone of mixed raced heritage but mainly those of us who are Black/white mixed. I will be using the term Black to describe people whose heritage is not mixed with a white ethnicity. I don’t mean this to say that mixed people cannot identify as Black but to distinguish. I love my blackness and this is a nuanced conversation.

Some background for those of you who don’t know me. I was born and raised in London. I have a white British mum. My dad is a second generation immigrant from London, whose heritage is Guyanese (the heritage of this country is incredibly interesting so please have a google if that interests you). I’m the mixed white/Black Caribbean on the diversity forms. I have 3a hair and am very much brown in terms of skin colour. I am aware that mixed folk around the world identify very differently to mixed Brits (and particularly Londoners) so please allow me to sit in my context.

I used to feel a bit lost in times like this but I’ve read and listened a lot and feel like I know where I can stand here.

The understanding of our own privilege

A definition of colourism, for those of us who are unfamiliar: Colourism is prejudice or discrimination against individuals with a dark skin tone, typically among people of the same ethnic or racial group.

The most important thing that I think we can do is acknowledge our own privilege and do so openly and generously. I say the following assuming that you understand that we suffer at the hands of racism.

Firstly I think it is important to acknowledge privilege do because we are privileged and we can’t exactly claim to be anti-racist if we don’t openly understand the ways that we benefit from white supremacy. Mixed people exist on a spectrum, so this will vary hugely between people but we are all better off than our Black counterparts, whether that be through colourism, economically (one white parent isn’t exactly hurting us) or culturally. By culturally, I mean that we are often second or third generation plus immigrants and are therefore culturally ingrained in white culture (think access to education, use of language in a way that white people approve of, even the food we eat).

I don’t think this needs to come with guilt, I think recognising privilege is incredibly productive, should alleviate guilt and make us productive within a movement. It is powerful for us to openly show that we know we are privileged because it will be seen by white people. Understanding of our own privilege is the first step in combating the problem and we (ideally) need every single white people to do that. They will see us saying that we, people you probably see as Black, benefit from white supremacy too and will not stand for it anymore. That is powerful.

We have to make colourism our problem

Calling out our own privilege is also incredibly important because mixed people perpetuate colourism. It’s something I know I’ve been doing of years without having a clue that I was. When we call for diversity and settle for the light skin offering because we see ourselves in it, we aren't doing well enough. When we accept or congratulate brands because they’ve produced products adapted to light skin blackness, we are not doing well enough. When we do not use Black owned brands because we are served just fine by the white ones, we are not doing well enough. We all do these or similar things and we must be hyper aware of it.

We also suffer from colourism and for me that’s definitely manifested as internalised racism in the past. The fear of tanning, the brightening of photos, the weird acceptance of racist microaggressions by our friends. It’s bad for us, our identity and self-esteem but it’s worse for out Black counterparts because they only ever see the suffering from it. Colourism lives within us and its got to go. We need to mop that nonsense up, do the work, read all the books and fully engage with this movement.

Our existence in Black spaces

How heavily we should be visible in black spaces is a really loaded debate and rightfully so. Exploring it fully is beyond the scope of this and I do not feel well read about to provide any actual answers. What I will say is that the rights of Black folk will never be equal until all of us are represented. Should mixed people take the place of a darker black person? No. Never ever.

Us mixed folk may feel unrepresented in Black spaces but we are overrepresented or misrepresenting Black folk in white spaces. These are separate issues. I think Black visibility in white spaces is what matters to push this progress right now. We have to be aware of this and why we are being asked into a space. We cannot take a spot away from a Black person (by all means suggest that you’d love to be there to provide a mixed perspective because that conversation needs to happen and one person cannot speak for a diverse group).

This is an incredibly nuanced conversation that I really want Black folk to engage with us in. I’ve talked about this here. I think we need to be aware that mixed inclusion in black spaces is a different issue to racism. In-fighting about it needs to happen compassionately and not in front of white folk because we’re on the same side.

The use of our privilege

Once we’ve done the work to check our own privilege, we should be excited because we have an amazing opportunity. Those ways that we benefit from white supremacy and colourism must be harnessed. We need to be using our privilege to open up conversations in spaces that Black folk may never be invited into.

We are related to people who uphold white supremacy. For some people, your blood relation will not be enough to listen to you but for many it will be. I’m sure we’ve all experienced white silence and ostracising for calling out racism within the white side of our families (this is racism btw, tell them this constantly, they’ll either start to learn or at least you’ll ruin their day). It isn’t fun for us but we do find ourselves in those spaces with very little effort. Let's use those spaces until we’re sure that every person is anti-racist. Call out microaggressions, ruin Christmas dinner.

I also think we need to make sure we equip our white relatives who are allies with resources, an understanding of their importance and a constant push to be the voice for us when the racist relatives do not think we are listening. They are also doing important work and although it isn’t our responsibility to be thankful for it, letting someone you love know that you see them is energising for both of you.

Whichever parent of yours is white must be as divisive as you when you’re not there and if they’re not already doing that, explain why they must be. Remind them that silence is violence. Decent parents aren’t going to want to do that to their kids. Make your cousin's into anti-racist spies and have them call out nonsense when your racist aunts and uncles are most relaxed in their white bubble. This is how we can mobilise into their spaces and this is a unique position.

Another thing that I think we should appreciate about ourselves is that we are able to hold conversations with just enough white-washing that people who would not usually do so, are willing to engage. We also do this with very little effort due to our cultural privilege. Look after yourselves as we will be emotionally affected by having to do this (anger, frustration, hopelessness) but we do know how to do this. Believe me, I am terrible at not getting angry and just being frank but I also know that it isn’t helpful when they’ve not even acknowledged that they have white privilege. We’ve grown up around these people before we realised that they were actually racists so we know how they speak and what they like to hear.

I think the most important thing to say is to keep the momentum going. Be relentless. Let’s make it impossible for our white family to not see our blackness but harness the white privilege we benefit from to create real progress. We all have a place in this movement and we can harness magic.

[scriptautistic]

Masterpost: Autism and Vocabulary

As a writer, we’re sure you are aware that words are important. You can’t always substitute one for another because they all have their own depth of meaning and their own subtleties. So if you want to write an autistic character, you’ll have to refer to autism using the right words. This post will help you do just that!

Autistic person? Person who has autism? Which one should I use?

This is a highly debated question. You might have heard “You have to say “person with autism” because you’re talking about a person first; the person is not defined by their disability!”. While this is a nice thought, it is largely misguided, and this way of talking are mainly used by non-autistic persons while talking about us. The autistic community doesn’t like this “person-first” language very much for several reasons.

First of all, if you need to use specific language to remind yourself that we are people, you may have a problem that no amount of linguistic workarounds can solve. We say “a French person”, not “a person who is French” or “a person with Frenchness”, because we don’t need to remind ourselves that French people are people. Why should it be different with autistic people?

The second reason most of us don’t like saying we are “persons with autism” is that our autism is not something that we carry with us. We are not a human person + a terrible disorder. We are fundamentally different. Being autistic is an integral part of who we are as people, and touches every sphere of our lives. If someone somehow managed to take away our autism, they wouldn’t reveal the “real us” that was hidden behind it: they would create a whole different person. We can’t be separated from our autism, and this should be reflected in the language you use while talking about us.

So ideally, you’ll want to use “autistic”, as an adjective: Cat is autistic, they are an autistic person. Some of us sometimes use “autistic” as a noun as a shortcut, when we’re tired of repeating “people” all the time, but it’s best to avoid it when you can, especially if you’re allistic.

What you really need to avoid is “a person with autism”, or heaven forbid “a person who happens to have autism”, “a person who suffers from autism”, “a person who lives with autism”, or any variation thereof. I’ve also seen a few people write “an autist”, but I don’t get why they do that. Please don’t do it.

And please don’t refer to us as being “on the spectrum,” we don’t need a euphemism to soften the blow of the word “autistic.” We are autistic! Even those who don’t seem disabled. Please remember that, while it is all too often misused in an insulting or pejorative way, “autistic” is not a bad word. Don’t be afraid to use it! In fact, using it more and in a positive way is the best way to stop it from being misused as a pejorative.

You keep using these words I don’t understand…

Alright, let’s get a glossary going! We’ll update this post whenever we use a word that could be hard to understand (if we can remember to do it…). If there is any word on the blog that you can’t understand, check if we’ve explained it here. If we haven’t, shoot us an ask and we’ll do it ASAP. :) All of the titles are clickable and will take you to the corresponding tag so you can check out everything we’ve written about a subject.

AAC: Augmentative and Alternative Communication. Encompasses all means of communicating used by nonverbal people which are not spoken/sign language, such as using a text-to-speech device or a pictogram system to communicate.

ABA: Applied Behaviour Analysis, the most common type of “therapy” autistic children are subjected to. It can have lots of negative long-terms effects on the person’s life, such as PTSD or vulnerability to abuse.

Ableism: Treating disabled people (including autistic people) poorly because they are disabled.Treating someone differently because they behave in autistic ways, punishing autistic people for stimming, forcing nonverbal autistics to communicate verbally (and ignoring other types of communication), etc. are all examples of ableist behavior.

Alexithymia: Difficulty identifying one’s own emotions, very common in autistic people. They may not know how they feel at all, or simply unable to name their feelings. They are often unable to answer the question “How are you?” or “How are you feeling?” and may be aware only of whether they are feeling “good” or “bad” (and sometimes not even that).

Allistic: Someone who is not autistic. Used as an adjective and sometimes as a noun.

Asperger’s Syndrome: An outdated diagnostic term for an autistic person who is generally able to communicate verbally at a typical age and shows interest in social relationships. This is no longer considered to be a thing which exists. (See our masterpost on functioning labels.)

Autistic: Someone who is autistic (ie the subject of this whole blog) (I don’t know why we added that to the glossary)

Cure Culture / Curism: The attitude held by many allistic groups (most notably the hate group “Autism Speaks”) that autism is a disorder or disease which should be eliminated from the human race and place a priority on “curing” it. This is similar to the old belief that homosexuality is a disease that should be cured, and just as harmful to autistic people.

Disability: There are two main definitions to this word: 1- Not being able to do something that the majority of people are able to do. For example: hear (deaf), see (blind), smell (anosmic), walk (para/quadriplegic), etc.  2-Being impaired by a physical/mental difference in a way that restricts one’s professional, social, personal, or leisure activities. Depending on the definition and personal opinions, autistic people can be considered disabled or not disabled.

Dyspraxia: Difficulty with gross and/or fine motor skills, very common in autistic people. To a casual observer they may appear clumsy, often dropping things, walking into things, or tripping over their own feet (gross motor skills), or with poor handwriting, poor ability to hold a writing instrument, etc. (fine motor skills).

Echolalia: Use of verbal repetition to communicate, usually used by those who are not fully verbal. Words and phrases can be immediately repeated directly (“You OK?” “You OK.”), or with some changes (“Are you OK?” “I am okay.”). They can also come from memory (“Who gave you that?” [Darth Vader voice] “I am your father.” = my father).

Executive Dysfunction: Difficulty with executive functioning; skills used to make decisions and carry out tasks. Many autistic people have problems with this. They may be unable to make what appear to be simple decisions or figure out how to accomplish a simple goal. They may know exactly what they need to do but be unable to get their body to move to do it. It has been described via metaphors in a few ways: one is having all the ingredients to make a cake but no recipe, and being expected to make the cake, but having no idea how to do it. Another is that the body is like a horse and the brain is the rider, and the rider tries to get the horse to move, but it simply won’t budge.

Functioning Labels: Outdated and inaccurate (but sadly, still commonly used) labels for autistic people based on a narrow set of criteria. Those who don’t communicate verbally are normally considered “low-functioning”, for example, and those who can are “high-functioning”. See our masterpost for more information on why these labels are damaging and should not be used.

Hyperacusis: When a person is extremely sensitive to sound and the world sounds far louder to them than to others. It is often extremely painful, like having the volume on the world turned up way too high, and can be disabling. Many people with hyperacusis have or develop tinnitus (a constant sound, often ringing, usually caused by nerve damage in the ears).

Hyperempathy: Having far more affective empathy than a normal person. This can result in things like crying often, being unable to comfort upset people because their emotions are too overwhelming, etc. Some people feel hyperempathy all the time. Some have it only sometimes or for some people, or for inanimate objects.

Hypersensitivity: A blanket term which means “being more sensitive than most people to something”. When it comes to autism, it can refer to several things. Most of the time, it is used about sensory hypersensitivity, such as sensitivity to sounds or bright lights. There is also emotional hypersensitivity (easily getting hurt feelings/responding very strongly to positive feelings).

Hyposensitivity: The opposite of hypersensitivity, some autistic people feel a lack of sensory stimulation. They feel understimulated and may constantly feel the need to seek sensory stimulation. It’s important to note than an autistic person may be hypersensitive in some ways and hyposensitive in others, or at different times.

Infodumping: Sharing a large amount of information on a single topic all at once, often without pausing or allowing others to speak, due to overwhelming enthusiasm for the subject. It is usually done on subjects of special interest.

Low empathy: Some autistic people feel reduced or no affective empathy for other people (do not identify with their emotions or feel inspired to a certain emotion when they see others having that emotion). This does not necessarily mean that they do not care about the emotions of others - some may not care, some may care a great deal - only that they do not feel what others feel. Some people with low empathy for other people have hyperempathy for inanimate objects or fictional characters.

Meltdown: When the brain is too overloaded with sensory information or stress and can no longer function properly, an autistic individual may have a very violent reaction, called a meltdown. The person melting down is generally in a lot of pain. They might scream, throw things, yell curse words and insults, cry, hurt themselves or other, and try to hide themselves in absurd locations like under couch cushions or behind doors. This neurological event cannot be controlled or stopped once it begins. It can be made worse by interfering and adding more sensory input (by touching or talking to the person) and usually will not subside until the person is left alone to calm down. 

Neurodivergent/Neuroatypical: Having a neurology which is different from the most common ones, such as being autistic or having ADHD. Some people include mental illnesses in this label, some do not.

Neurodiversity: The philosophy that in order to succeed, survive, and thrive, the human race needs many different types of neurology, and that neurodiverse people are an important and positive component of our species.

Neurotypical: A term which is defined as “having the most common type of neurology” (ie not autistic, without ADHD/dyslexia/tourette’s, etc.). Someone with a mental illness may or may not be considered neurotypical depending on people’s opinions.

Nonverbal: Someone who cannot or does not communicate verbally (using spoken language, often including sign language). Some autistic people are always nonverbal. Most are nonverbal under stress or overload. Some are always verbal.

Passing: Successfully behaving enough like an allistic person, particularly in social situations, that no one suspects you are autistic. Often important or even necessary for some people, especially when it comes to work situations.

PECS: One of the AAC methods which is most commonly used with autistic children (and sometimes adults). Stands for “Picture Exchange Communication System”. A pictogram-based system.

Proprioception: All of the sensory input which comes from inside your body. Includes your brain’s awareness of where the different parts of your body are. Autistic people often have very poor proprioception. As a result, they may have some type of dyspraxia, odd facial expressions, odd posture and walking gait, etc., all of which they may not be aware of until someone tells/shows them.

Sensory Processing Disorder: The clinical term for someone who has difficulty processing sensory information. Includes sensory hypersensitivity, hyposensitivity and differences. Too many details to process can lead to sensory overload, shutdowns, and meltdowns. Some autistic people don’t agree that it is a disorder, and prefer to talk of “sensory processing differences”.

Sensory Overload: When too much sensory information is being sent to the brain and the brain can no longer keep up. It becomes painful and the person can become incapable of accepting new sensory information until the brain has time to catch up (like a computer freezing when too many programs are open). This often leads to shutdowns and/or meltdowns.

Shutdown: A defense mechanism against sensory overload and stress. The brain attempts to shut out all sensory input by disconnecting from the environment. The person might no longer understand speech (or even fully hear it), be able to think in language (or to think in any way at all), move their body, or communicate in any way. Their eyes might unfocus and they may seem to be completely “out of it”. This state is usually a sign that the person needs to be left alone for their brain to calm down, but if pushed by those around them, they may switch to having a meltdown.

Special Interest: A subject which an autistic person is extremely interested in and will go to great lengths to learn everything possible about.

Spoons: A metaphor used to indicate the (limited) amount of energy a disabled or sick person has to devote to various tasks. There is a whole script blog devoted to this (@scriptspoonies). Many autistic people rely on this metaphor to describe their (lack of) energy.

Stimming: Repeated actions which are used to stimulate one’s own nervous system, done for various reasons including to soothe oneself/calm down, express emotions, communicate, or just because it feels nice. Common examples include rocking back and forth, flapping hands, clenching jaw, tapping a part of the body, making a repeated noise, etc.

Verbal: Able to communicate using spoken language.

[fierceautie]

As a Hard of Hearing autistic adult, I think about this often. There are many overlaps in the autistic and Deaf communities. There are different sensory, diagnosis, difficulties and therapy experiences. There is certainly an overlap of experiences and history. Having experiences from both communities is a truly unique experience. Combining the Deaf and autistic cultures can have an understanding of an non normative communication. Having developed a nonverbal form of communication for Deaf people. such as American Sign Language, can be applied to the autistic community as adaptive communication. Both communities have activists that demand inclusion and rights. With the Deaf President Now movement, the Deaf community gained a lot of momentum. The                                                                                                          autistic community needs a similar event.OralismOralism in the Deaf CommunityOralism is the belief that Deaf people should be educated through lipreading, mimicking mouth shapes and practicing breathing patterns, and vocal exercises to help Deaf people produce oral speech. This is referred to the oral method. The people who support this believe that it is important for deaf people to assimilate into the "hearing" world.  They believed that deaf people should know how to talk with hearing people. They believed it would be harder for the deaf individual to have a barrier, even though there already was one. A delegation of hearing educators voted to mandate oral only approach to educating Deaf students. The goal was to "normalize" Deaf children through the use of speech, while ousting sign language in the process. . The oralism movement that originated more than a century ago subjected multiple generations of Deaf people to mostly unsuccessful efforts to assimilate completely into hearing society through the use of spoken language and auditory aids. History of OralismIn 1880, there was the Milan based Second International Congress on the Education of the Deaf. This congress was the cause of the rise of oralism. They cemented the legislative and psychological power that hearing professionals were to have over Deaf people over the next century. It was influenced by the theory and belief that sign language is primitive and detrimental to evolution and higher thinking. In the 1880's, there was a debate on whether sign language or the oral method in Deaf schools. Even though it would be easier for hearing people to understand deaf people through oralism, Deaf people would not be able to communicate with each other easily at all. There were more oral schools than schools that taught sign language during this time. Decades after Milan, oralism was the prominent instructional method in Deaf schools in America. Many Deaf teachers were reassigned from academic to vocational classes. Deaf administrators were replaced by hearing administrators who had the goal of attempting to integrate Deaf students into society by teaching them spoken English. The students that signed in class faced psychological or physical punishment. This included having hands hit with rulers, tapped to the desk or tied behind their backs. In 1864, Gallaudet University, the first all Deaf university in the world, was under a large opposition. Gallaudet University was the first university where ASL is the main language used. One of the largest opponents was Alexander Graham Bell. Bell played a central role in American deaf education and was heavily influenced by his parents. His father was a elocutionist who was dedicated to improve speech articulation. His mother was Heard of Hearing. Bell believed that the oral method was the future of instruction of the deaf in the United States. Bell invented several devices to help his mother hear. One of these devices made vibrations of speech was the telephone. He said that sign language jeopardized deaf peoples potential to integrate into hearing society. Gallaudet University was very resilient under the administration of this first superintendent Edward Miner Gallaudet. Oralism in the Autistic CommunityOralism is applied to autistic people as well. There are many non verbal autistics and autistics with language processing disorders that spend countless hours in speech therapy and do not speak. Some speech therapists (not all) do tell parents not to use signs because it would delay their speech. ABA is also used to get an autistic child to speak. ABA can last sometimes for 40 hours a week!  There are some parents who use forms of quackery to say it will help their child speak. ASL is normally frowned upon because it is different than speech. ASL does not delay language and speech development. ASL (I am in the United States so I will be speaking about ASL even though I know there are many sign languages throughout the world) develops language skills and relieves the frustration for the person not being able to communicate orally. I started teaching my children to sign before speech. The area of the brain that is responsible for language develops faster than the area for speech. My children were able to sign when they were babies. This is the premise for baby sign language. Instead of modifying the signs, I used ASL because thats what I know. Psychological Effects of OralismLanguage DeprivationFor Deaf people, oralism is not a natural form of communication. No technology intervention makes it possible for Deaf people to hear in teh same way that glasses enable most people to have 20/20 vision. The oral method takes years of intensive therapy. There are no reliable predictors of success. Exposure to language only happens through Auditory Verbal Therapy (AVT). There is no natural process of development through observation and play with peers, family members and others in daily situations. Oralism has risks of a substantial delays in language acquisition. Parents are often not informed about this. For every child who appears to be succeeding, there are countless other children who are falling farther behind every day. The critical period of language acquisition occurs during the first few years of life. If a Deaf child does not acquire fluency and a foundation of spoken English before this period ends, most don't, there are psychological effects of linguistic deprivation will be apparent. Oralism supporters often think of sign language as a backup plan. By the time parents recognize and accept that their child is not making sufficient progress with an oral only approach, the critical language period has ended. When the child is finally allowed to learn ASL, research shows that the level of fluency will not be the same as a native signer. Deaf children who begin learning ASL from birth or during the first few years of life show greater fluency in reading and writing English than children only trained orally. The harm from oralism can be painful. Some critics label oralism as abuse. Social DevelopmentOral Deaf children who are delayed in language development also face delays in social skill development. Jean Piaget, the noted developmental psychologist, stressed the importance of language in enabling children to navigate and function more effectively within social groups. Insufficient language exposure results in missed opportunities for social learning through observation and overhearing conversations at both home and in the community. A large percentage of Deaf children don't acquire sufficient social skills because they do not have access to learning in their families. A shared experience among many oral Deaf people is the dinner table syndrome, which is being left out of hearing family members conversations during meals. When the Deaf child asks to an explanation or for something to be repeated, they are met with dismissive remarks or that it will be explained later. It is never explained later. This instills feelings of rejection, frustration, and causes the Deaf family member to leave the table early and retreat to another area in the house. They often avoid family members due to this. Other Psychological EffectsOralism's impact on psychological wellness is vast. The ongoing pressure to learn to speak and lip read perfectly, the constant failure to do so, and the humiliation and frustration severely effects the child's self esteem. The parent child relationship suffers when the child feels like a disappointment.  Some relationships suffer when the child wants to sign instead of speak but the parents discourage or forbid it. Parents of oral Deaf children can become overprotective as they attempt to smooth the way for their children, much like martyr autism parents. This only stunts the child's development of independence adn self confidence but also fosters anxiety. Oral Deaf children spend years suppressing feelings of rage, sadness and angst in order to survive the oppression, much like autistic masking. It is mentally draining to face hidden and overt discrimination on a daily basis. This is in addition to marginalization in society. Anti social behaviors can develop as a result from the isolation and lack of access to communication. The same can be said about autistic children who are being forced to speak when there are alternative methods of communication. Oral Deaf children who remain oral may deny or detach from their Deaf identity. They may appear psychologically well adjusted on the outside, the suppression of their identity can have dire consequences. This is also true for autistic children who are forced to mask and are deprived of their autistic identity. If not Oralism, then what?ManualismFor a long time, the primary approach to language was teaching by using sign language. This philosophy is called manualism. This approach was challenged by oralism. Oralism often apposed sign language as it was viewed as a barrier to acquiring speech. The debate goes beyond language and education to incorporate social, economic and political. Over time, the recognition that Deaf people make up the Deaf community. It shares a language, sign language with its own grammar and syntax, cultural norms, values, and history. It has highlighted the need for a new social perspective on Deafness that is different than the medical view. This is much like the social and medical model of autism and other disability. The social model is signified by Deaf and the medical model is signified by deaf. In the 1970's, many Deaf schools favored manualism over oralism. This was in response to different social conditions. The consistent feature of the education system was that Deaf and hard of hearing children could interact with their peers. This supports the development of the Deaf community. This fostered the growth of sign language, regardless of the philosophy of the school. History of ASLAmerican Sign Language has roots in French Sign Language. It is deeply influenced by many events preceding the more formalized sign language that grew in the 1700's. The most prominent event was the publication of "Sign Language Structure" in 1965 by William Stokoe, a linguist, showing ASL as an actual language. The first book on sign language was published in 1620 by Juan Pablo de Bonet. It was a treaty for teaching "mute people to speak," Bonet's book also published a manual alphabet to improve communication with Deaf students. In 1755, Abbe Charles-Michel de I'Epee founded the first free school in Paris for Deaf students. Many of his disciples founded schools for Deaf students in their respective countries throughout Europe using French Sign Language (LSF). When in Paris learning the teaching methods using LSF, Gallaudet asked Laurent Clerc,  Deaf teacher who also a graduate of the school, to come to America and help him set up a school for Deaf students. Clerc accepted his invitation. During the 60 days of sailing to America, Gallaudet taught Clerc English while Clerk taught Gallaudet LSF. In 1817, Galludet and Clerc opened thier first school in Conneticut. It was called teh Conneticut Asylum for Education and Instruction of Deaf and Dumb Persons ( now its called the American School for the Deaf) in Hartford. At the end of the first year, there were 31 students from different New England cities. This included students from Martha's Vineyard, MA and Henniker, NH. Martha's Vin yard and Henniker were two communities where Deaf and Hearing residents were communicating in their own sign language. "Among the possible sources of the present American Sign Language would be Clerc's LSF, the homesigns students brought from home and from scattered Deaf communities, pantomime and new signs generated in settings of the school."Today's ASL was strongly influenced by American School for the Deaf. Deaf students who graduated would go to different states to set up new schools for Deaf students and would pass down the next generation of Deaf student the "contact language" that became today's ASL. The ASL used today is a result of 195 years of Deaf families and students passing down from one generation to the next language that has become one of the most used languages in the United States. Total CommunicationTotal communication (TC) is the philosophy of educating children who are Deaf or hard of hearing that incorporates all means of communication, formal signs, natural gestures, fingerspelling, body language, listening, lipreading and speech. Children who are in TC programs typically wear hearing aids. The goal of total communication is to optimize language development whichever is the most effective for the child. Total communication is truly philosophy not a methodology. The implementation of TC with one child may look different than another. The core of TC encourages to use whatever communication tools are most effective for the individual child. It really depends on the child's needs. The intent of total communication was to provide each child with the communication tools needed for that child to develop language competence. This should continue to be the goal of every teacher of every child. If TC  Was Used for Autistic ChildrenIf this philosophy was used with autistic children, the autistic child will be more well adjusted. The child would be able to express what they need to say. They would not be fustrated. There would be less meltdowns. Their autonomy would be respected and there would be less mental health issues as a result. This would eliminate the "need" for ABA. More teachers and parents need to take this approach. To much emphasis is put on speech with autistic children. The sensation of the vocal cords vibrating could be overwhelming can cause sensory overload. The sound of speech can also be overwhelming and cause sensory overload. Allowing the autistic child to find the method of communication that they are comfortable with would allow the autistic child mental wellness. Sources: https://oralismandthedeafcommunity.weebly.com/what-is-oralism.htmlhttps://onlineexhibits.library.yale.edu/s/deaf-culture/page/communicationhttps://web.archive.org/web/20180712231619/http://sk.sagepub.com/reference/download/the-sage-deaf-studies-encyclopedia/i3490.pdfhttp://gupress.gallaudet.edu/excerpts/LPR.pdfhttps://www.dawnsign.com/news-detail/history-of-american-sign-languagehttps://www.handsandvoices.org/comcon/articles/totalcom.htm#:~:text=Total%20Communication%20(TC)%20is%20philosophy,hearing%20aids%20or%20cochlear%20implants.

http://www.fierceautie.com/2020/08/oralism-in-deaf-and-autistic-communities.html

[memorytile0-blog]

Rassismus ist real. #metwo

Dear readers, we have to talk. This time it’s not about me though, I’d like to talk about our society. About a society I am increasingly worried about.

Mesut Özil’s resignation from the German national football team, purportedly due to racism, has sparked a debate which in my opinion was long overdue. Mesut Özil, a German citizen, born in Gelsenkirchen, found himself confronted with racism. I think we don’t need to establish that comments like “Turkish pig” and “goat-fucker” (the latter term was actually hurled at Özil by an SPD politician) are plain racist. In other words, whoever claims that Özil is just too thin-skinned has clearly not looked into the matter deeply enough.   Bild, the big German boulevard newspaper, has joined the ranks of agitators against the athlete. First the paper attempted to undermine his “German-ness” with the headline “He goes on a pilgrimage to Mecca and loves a Miss Turkey!”, and eventually expatriated him altogether after the World Cup. This quote from a Bild article serves as a case in point: “…good that you took off the jersey with the German eagle, we no longer go together.”   Both (SPD politician) Holzhauer and (Bild chef) Reichelt faced substantial criticism of their comments, but that did not really change much. The sad truth remains: Germany is racist..   As soon as Özil was stripped from his protective coat of being a successful athlete, even he, a highly awarded national player who won the World Cup with Germany, who was born and raised here and has paid millions of Euros in taxes is ostracized and suddenly fair game.   Please don’t misunderstand me: personally, I also think it was a mistake that Özil posed for a picture with Erdogan and never distanced himself from Turkish politics. After all, the athlete is a role model for scores of youngsters, and for that reason alone clear words would have been called for in my opinion. But no mistake justifies discrimination on racist grounds. NONE.   Racism, in all its many more or less obvious forms, is part of our social reality – to the point that even one of our country’s most successful athletes is not exempt from it.

“…so why don’t people accept that I’m German?” Mesut Özil

It is shocking how racism still – or once again – forms part of the daily reality of many people. It has become the norm again. “It’s just the way it is.”   Many accept the subliminal mobbing, the little stabs at work, or even laugh along at inappropriate jokes. We all have a desire to belong, after all, to fit in, not to stick out. It wasn’t so bad, was it? Well, and then suddenly Özil quit the team. The focus fell on a grand stage when the racism festering in the German national team, the nation’s pride and also its sore spot, became visible. WE were world champions, after all.   But Özil’s quitting the team caused more than a public outcry – it started a veritable protest movement. People everywhere started sharing their own experiences with racism using the hashtag #metwo. And all of us should really, really listen. Racism is indeed a virus that has infected our society – and it is spreading.   Let us look at the facts: Die Zeit (a renowned, traditionally liberal weekly newspaper) is openly asking the question whether it would be better to let refugee boats sink in the mediterranean. The openly racist AfD party holds at 12% (a current poll showed as much as 16% for the party – i.e. the support is still growing). Horst Seehofer celebrates 69 deportations on his 69th birthday, and, well, Mesut Özil faces open racism. Is anyone really going to tell me racism is not a big problem in Germany today?   The simple truth is that it is – and if you read through some tweets with the hashtag #metwo there cannot be much doubt. The stories I read affect me. What’s worst for me is to realise at how young an age many people are confronted with racism in their lives.   For many children it starts in school, where they often find themselves helpless targets of racist comments. I would go as far as accusing some teachers of emotional abuse. How incompetent some of the supposed educators in charge can be is beyond me. It is bad enough that children are often so brutal among each other – but how must it feel as a kid when the teacher chips in as well? How are you going to build trust in society when you’re excluded from the earliest developmental stages onwards?   The following tweets are just a few examples of a widely shared experience:

“My German teacher made fun of my for my incorrect usage of German articles and my pronunciation of the letter “r”. I am fluent in 5 languages, and he has not managed to pronounce my four letter name correctly one single time.” @seratonin   “When we were talking about job applications in school, and I told my teacher that I want to study, he told me ‘you’ll be long married by the time'” @navasgeht   “Here in Germany we use our real names and not pseudonyms! Maybe you didn’t know that.” “That’s my real name.” – I was talking to the dean of a uni in Leipzig. @WhoIsYade

“Child in the daycare facility tells my daughter tells her she knows why my daughter has such brown skin. Her father had explained to her that particularly stupid babies are marked out by stewing them in a barrel of coals for a while.” @SoSumbu   I am preparing the seminar room. Student: “Are you almost done with cleaning? We’re about to start a class here.” @SelvetaB   “My brother was the best pupil in class, straight A’s. He gets a B on a test, compares his score with that of another pupil and discovers that he received a worse mark than the other pupil despite having a higher score. The teacher then tells him: ‘If I give you an A, what am I supposed to give the German pupils?” @Livenitup_DE

“My father works as capitain on a cargo ship. Court ruling in the eighties to deport us from Germany states the following reason: ‘the home of a sailor is the sea’ 8no kidding, I still have the document.” @HasnainKazim   “When neo-nazis threaten your mother and the state prosecutor tells her: ‘well, maybe your son should not be so outspoken in public.'” @ShahakShapira   “The emergency physician who refused to treat a family member before having them show him their passport despite acute respiratory distress syndrome.” @julyarabinowich

But not only schools, also the state and the judiciary system seem to fail many Germans instead of protecting them. Reading these comments (there are so many) I was overtaken by shame and anger. What really gets to me is the comment sections under those tweets. People share there experiences, but instead of simply listening, others feel personally offended, insult the posters and deny that there is any racism involved. Instead of offering support or at least an ounce of understanding, they add more humiliation and degradation to the pile. You really start asking yourself: What the hell is wrong with people?   I’d like to say at this point that I think it’s generally wrong to dispute someone’s personal perception of being marginalized. People in Germany that are not affected by racism have no right to define for others what is and what is not racism. Those unaffected are observers. And nope, “Almans” or “potatoes” is not an example for reverse racism here.   Those not affected are privileged to be able to say that aspects like their skin-color play no part in how they are perceived. For those targeted by racism, skin-color, religion and other superficial characteristics play an absolutely crucial part in how they are perceived in every-day life. They are rejected more often when applying for flats, are invited less often to job interviews, and are under much more general and constant pressure to justify themselves. A lot of discrimination happens subliminally, remains unquestioned between the lines.   There also seems to be widespread differentiation among Germans with immigration backgrounds: Asians are better Germans than Africans or Turks. And as far as Swedes and Americans are concerned, well those are not real immigrants after all. Even someone like me, who was not even born in Germany and grew up bi-lingually, but looks European and has a European name, has no problems. Meanwhile Merve, a third-generation German, born and raised in this country, faces discrimination on a daily basis.   It begs the question: What makes a German German? The skin-tone? The ancestry? The mentality? The place of birth? The nationality? The language?   Where does German-ness begin, and where does it end?   Divisions and arbitrary demarcation lines wherever we look. There is only one solution: we need to erase these lines.   It is not enough to wait and hope for the best. In order to break these invisible boundaries we have to step out of our roles as passive observers and become active. Just like our democracy should not be taken for granted, we also need to fight for a tolerant society. It requires courage, energy and spine, and challenges all of us to keep our eyes wide open, to not look away. The first step is to be reflective of ones own behaviors and patterns. The second is to stand up for someone else, to be active instead of passive.   We should all openly ask ourselves where and when we may have acted out some form of racism ourselves. Many people feel hurt and ostracized even when they are asked where they are from “originally”. If someone answers your question with “I’m from Hamburg”, accept it at face value. In a similar vein, not everyone will be open to talk about their experience of feeling excluded. We all need to develop our sensitivity, to look closely at our own behavior as well as that of our friends and families. This can be difficult, and certainly requires courage, but it is a step in the right direction. One of the central issues in this debate is that few people consider themselves racist – but many are without even being fully aware of it. Many do not consider their off-hand remarks to be racist, or withdraw to defending their own “opinions” (which, often enough are emotions rather than arguments).   To reflect for yourself whether such a pattern may apply to yourself, try asking yourself the following: how would I act and what would I say if skin-color, religion and name would not make any difference, if Murat sounded as German to me as Mark, if I’d register the differences in skin tone like I register the differences in eye color (no one is less German because their irises are brown), if I accepted Islam as a religion just as I accept Christianity? If I wipe out these dividing lines in my head – what am I left with? You’re suddenly confronting a human being. Not a label or a category.   I read some highly interesting thoughts HERE, and if you made it to this point in this text I recommend you take the time to check out the following article:   Now, after all that criticism, I also would like to acknowledge how long a way we have already come, how much more tolerant our generation is than the one before us was. It also helps to be aware how many of us are fighting for equal human rights. We are legion. While it often may not seem so in all the bullshit, a sense of courage, altruism and standing up for the other is found in many places and at many points in time. If we manage to bundle these energies, if we manage to work together towards a common goal, I see hope – for us Germans, Europeans, and for us as members of a global society.   Or, to say it with German band Die Ärzte:

“It’s not your fault that the world is as it is. But it’s your fault if it stays that way.”

A postscript: All my friends advised me against publishing this post. For understandable reasons. The main argument runs along the lines that I should not write about racism as someone who is not affected. They are right in that respect. But does it really help a society if its members always keep quiet for fear of rubbing someone up the wrong way? I am aware that some readers may disagree with me on the points outlined above, others may reject my perspective altogether. Maybe some readers will agree with many of my friends and believe I have no right to criticize an aspect of society I perceive only as observer. But I do believe, from the bottom of my heart, that this is a crucial issue, and feel a responsibility to express my opinion about it on this platform.

This post is also available in German Russian

Source: https://www.masha-sedgwick.com/rassismus-ist-real-metwo/

[coldsoupy]

High School Never Ends: Popularity and Engagement in the Digital Age

Everyone wants to be popular.

While this sentiment might not be outwardly expressed by many or overtly apparent in everyday life, there exists a deep-seeded need for validation and recognition. In the digital age (arguably starting with the first AOL Instant Messenger screen-names, MySpace profiles and Livejournal sites) this outward, public seeking of validation and approval has been at the core of every endeavor undertaken in the digital world of self-broadcasting, self-publishing and community entertainment.

Whether outwardly apparent to the post-er or not, every status update, photo upload, blog, vlog, reshare or creative work is a shared and curated element of self-promotion and self-branding that speaks to a need to control how people see who we are and recognize the things we stand for, create or “share.” Likes, comments, re-blogs and re-shares all amount to a point system, a personal catalog of validation that works like a checkbook ledger crediting and debiting the appeal of the creator.

People, hyper-aware of ideas on the spectrum of “going viral” to “trolling” post with total awareness of the weight they carry in the online sphere. Everything one “shares” is at its core a maintenance of an online persona, a way to lure people to think a-like or challenge people to debate with the intent of bringing attention to the very thing that was publicly created.

To exist on social media, in any capacity and on any medium, speaks to a personal need to be popular, accepted, validated and recognized.

Thus, I would like to focus on three key areas of 1.) personal creativity in a “friends” context, 2.) public personal creativity (blogs, vlogs, podcasts and websites) and 3.) activism to examine how public viewing, critiquing and collaboration have made virtually all forms of interaction on the media, at some level, an amplification of personal desires for popularity, acknowledgement and relevance.

I will attempt to articulate a unified nature to why we post what we post. What are we looking for in our digital authorship and will it ever be realized? Does our personal digital authorship have a point? Does our “shared” authorship matter if everyone’s an author? For what reasons does the “social media self” exist? Is there such a thing as post-popularity authorship?

Part I: Selfie

The selfie has become the poster-child for our digital times.

The sole-creator, sole-subject of a picture looks to show in the most blatant of ways, what “I” am doing. Check this out. While the selfie is not something everyone partakes in regularly while at the gym, at scenic locales or simply to show something unmissable in the moment, it does serve as a good starting point for the larger discussion of the role of popularity in social media. The selfie is a metaphor of the digital author in any form (including the selfie itself!).

In their paper Narcissism 2.0! Would narcissists follow fellow narcissists on Instagram?” the mediating effects of narcissists personality similarity and envy, and the moderating effects of popularity, Jin and Muqaddam (2018) point to a level of narcissism associated with and attached to selfie takers. They write that “selfies allow individuals to manipulate the angle of the shot, to be at the center of the frame, and to make certain poses and facial expressions that reflect the personality they wish to communicate. Social networking sites like Instagram and Snapchat provide filters that improve the quality of the image and digitally enhance the face by hiding skin-spots and controlling brightness. Hence, when social media audiences judge images where the source is self-centered, they naturally associate this self promotion with narcissism (Lee & Sung, 2016) and therefore perceive selfies as narcissistic behaviors (Re et al., 2016)” (Jin & Muqaddam 2018, p. 32). While the selfie remains one of the more obvious and self-centered forms of self-promotion on social media, the intent of the selfie is the same core intent that drives any singular post someone might make. It is a desire to outwardly “share” something with the expected viewership and feedback of a community in return.

Digital authorship, in all forms, is simply different reiterations of the selfie. The word count or perceived merits of “high-brow” creativity or the simplicity of the re-share does not take away from the core purpose of the piece of authorship: It is a way to be noticed and to reach a perceived audience.

Part II: Yourself, personally curated

Like a perfectly staged selfie of profile picture, how one portrays themself online through the things he or she shares speaks to the unique ability to self-create and self-curate our own online perceptions. Kurt Vonnegut once wrote, “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be.” This has never been more true than in our digital age and in regards to the task of personal digital authorship.

The act of wording a Tweet or choosing a recipe to share or choosing a cause to “like” all stems from the intrinsic knowledge that this information will be seen. The online persona is a sum of its digitally authored parts and it is responsive to the input of other digital authors.

Essentially, digital authors are in constant flux, tweaking, branding and altering digital personas to appeal to approval or recognition from online communities. The digital self is not static, it is constantly malleable to changing trends and events. In their study of different types of Facebook profile pictures, Wu, Chang and Yuan (2015) point out that “people use the internet to explore themselves. That everyone has two different entities; ‘true’ self and ‘actual’ self have been proposed before (McKenna, 2007). The user is highly motivated to project himself in the best possible way in the virtual world (Emmons, 1987)” (Wu, Chang & Yuan 2015, p. 881). This differentiation between the “true” and “actual” self speaks directly to Vonnegut’s “pretend to be” self. The words “true” and “actual” could just as easily be replaced with “digital” and “real-world” self and with that we could even branch those selves further!

Joachim Vogt Isaksen (2013) writes that a “person’s construction of an ‘imagined self-image’ is done unintentionally. We are not consciously aware that we often try to conform to the image that we imagine other people expect from us” (Isaksen 2013). One mirrors what he or she thinks will be acceptable to others and creates a version of themself accordingly.

To consider what elements of digital authorship show about our “best possible projections” is to consider the implications for our choices of what we show. It is worth noting, how absorbing the digitally authored, online self can be. Even in the midst of navigating real-world situations, the parallel Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, blog or other social platform sits ready to show new forms of validation for something shared. Who hasn’t scrolled through Twitter on the subway? To post a photo is not just to post a photo. To post a photo is to monitor the popularity of that photo in real time. What is the fallout from that photo? What is the impact of that photo? When does following analytics for a given photo cease being something worth looking at a smartphone for?

Isaksen (2013) points to American sociologist Charles Horton Cooley when he asserts, “[the] looking glass self, states that a person’s self grows out of a person’s social interactions with others. The view of ourselves comes from the contemplation of personal qualities and impressions of how others perceive us. Actually, how we see ourselves does not come from who we really are, but rather from how we believe others see us” (Isaksen 2013). With Cooley speaking to us from the turn of the 20th Century, it is easy to see how this idea of “self-image” has become hyper-edited and hyper-curated in the digital age.

While in person one might mimic body language subconsciously to gain someone’s favor, the world of back-and-forth digital authorship has allowed people to spend time and put great care into the maintenance of exactly who they are through their authorship. Shows such as MTV’s Catfish are built on the whole premise of people completely mirroring to the point of assuming someone else’s identity just for the sake of validation.

A post is more than a post, it’s an established ecosystem.

The point is not about the post. The significance lies in the life that takes shape around the post. The discussion or feedback or “virality” of the post is more important than the post itself. It is the cosmos that forms surrounding the post that gives the author meaning, feelings of validation and a reason to continue engaging. The post, no matter what it was, gave life to something.

That’s creationism.

Part III: You be an author while I be an author.

To be a digital author is to engage in “correspondent authorship.”

The act of writing a post and then responding with a gif is a case in point of back-and-forth authorship. While a face-to-face conversation is built around the moment, social cues, pragmatics, situations, visual and auditory stimuli; the act of being a digital author allows for wait time between interaction. In this way, the only way to respond to one’s online publication, even one so simple as “Love shopping at Aldi!” (Who’s my audience with that line? Why’d I say Aldi? The irony!) would be met with a considered and measure expression in return. The act of even considering whether to “like” a post carries with it the weight of realizing that the “like” will be seen by the author and that the “like” stands for something.

That “like” stands for a person and everyone can see who they are, everyone can think about why they “like” it and everyone can judge them.

Correspondent authorship, even between “friends” on Facebook is public domain. This is a central idea to the popularity drive behind every social media interaction. Companies like Facebook, Twitter or Tumblr afford the user a free service and all-important “wait-time” to express themselves. The promise of millions of other users having access to view and consume what we say or do, whether that many people actually engage with our published material, is enough to give everything we post, say or articulate a literal “pause.” Ranney (2015) writes that “the ability to control the dissemination of information and monitor self-representation in digital contexts helps individuals develop positive impressions among others and cultivate the esteem of their peers (Walther, 2011). Thus, information and communication technologies facilitate social and emotional adjustment by encouraging individuals to be more careful and deliberative in their digital interactions and behaviors than they are in their face-to-face interactions” (Ranney 2015, p. 4). This act of being “careful,” the momentary finger-hover over the enter key is our brain working not as a conversationalist, but rather as creator, editor and publisher of our own persona, hyper-aware of how the thoughts put to publication might play out.

And that’s just in the person-to-person interactions!

The things we choose to post and the multitude of other posted fragments, whether it be a Pinterest board or Instagram feed or news site with attention grabbing headlines, all feed into our ambient awareness. According to Levordashka and Utz (2016), “Ambient awareness can be defined as awareness of social others, arising from the frequent reception of fragmented personal information, such as status updates and various digital footprints, while browsing social media. “Ambient” emphasizes the idea that the awareness develops peripherally, not through deliberately attending to information, but rather as an artifact of social media activity” (Levordashka and Utz 2016, p. 147). The act of mindlessly scrolling through Instagram after a long day of work is actively working to develop ambient awareness of tens or perhaps dozens of people mathematically chosen to appear for one’s viewing pleasure. This ambient awareness informs us of trends, events or ideas worth further investigating, engaging with or forgetting about.

If enough people post about something, it’s going to get noticed.

In their study of “ambient awareness” on social media platforms, Levordashka and Utz (2016) used questionnaires to assess the extent to which people became aware of information in their networks just by browsing through a Twitter feed. Levordashka and Utz (2016) wrote the “results of this study show that people experience a sense of ambient awareness towards their online network. More importantly, they were able to recognize and report information about individual people in their network, whom they know only through the microblogging platform Twitter” (Levordashka and Utz 2016, p. 150).

Just as we have become accustomed to “scanning” for information, so too has our awareness of our social, political and professional circles become crowd-sourced. To just browse through what friends are posting on Facebook on a given night offers not just close friends, but acquaintances, ads and other algorithmically driven sponsored content based on the things we choose to publish. Thus, our acts of authorship are motivated to determine what social, political or professional circles we both see and pop up in.

Levordashka and Utz (2016) go on to conclude,“We demonstrate that browsing social media and frequently encountering various social information allows social media users to gain awareness of what is going on in the lives of people in their online network” (Levordashka and Utz 2016, p. 154). To engage on social media as an author and as an author on someone else’s authorship is further created in the context of being watched in a “fishbowl” so to speak. To engage on social media is part creation, part mathematical equation and part right-place-at-the-right-time all stemming from the initial desire to be noticed.

Whereas in person one must cultivate who they are in a fully dimensional way (emotionally, socially, physically), the digital world has been left as a place to write, edit and re-edit our memoirs in real time, see who’s reading it in depth and be intrinsically aware of the many others “window shopping.”

Part IV: Social Activism…there’s a brand for that

Social media has made social activism click-friendly.

To be an activist does not require physical action only intellectual action and a willingness to be vocal. In this way, activism in social media circles is kind of like comparing bumper stickers. There is a certain awareness that a “like” to an organization, whether it is Black Lives Matter, the National Rifle Association or Greenpeace, proclaims publically what one stands for.

Furthermore, to be an activist on a platform like Facebook, to “like” a page, offers a scroll bar of like-minded organizations, all with the same goal in mind, more likes and more clout that translates to more “likes” for the liker from the kind of people they want “liking” their posts.

Fichter and Avery (2012) write, “Having power and influence, making the things you advocate happen: This is the essence of clout. Does clout matter? Yes. On different issues, at different times and for different reasons, everyone wants their voices to be heard and their points of view acted upon, or at least understood, acknowledged and validated in some manner” (Fichter & Avery 2012, p. 58). This idea of clout puts community, social, political and grassroots organizations into the interesting space of brand management in order to achieve change. At some point, maybe around 10k “likes,” an organization enters a space of brand recognition that affords it the ability to market itself to people as a kind of “badge of honor.” Social movements become a way to express oneself without showing anything more than a copyrighted title and font.

In many ways, this appeal to broad popularity in a social media platform (soft activism) becomes a gateway to more concrete forms of activism such as giving money, protesting or voting (hard activism). In a study done on whether civic activism online made young people dormant or more active in real life, Milošević-Đorđević and Žeželj (2017) found that “when tailoring policies to

engage young people in civic activities, one has to have in mind different platforms and different topics; making them engaged in one type of activity makes it more probable that they would engage in others, making them engage in “soft activities” makes it more probable that they would engage in “hard activities” (Milošević-Đorđević and Žeželj 2017, p. 118). Therefore, it becomes essential for an organization to develop brand appeal and clout through activism and a key way to do this is to stand for something that people can show publically and let it, in turn, stand for who they are.

A drawback to the click “like” approach to activism lies in the “browser” nature of how we consume information online. To get into the nitty-gritty details is simply not something everyone has time for, so to “like” something one stands for places a level of trust in the organization to promote an imagine that maintains the cultivated imagine one hopes to achieve by advertising their “like” for that organization.

Ranney and Troop (2015) explore how this at-a-distance approach to social interaction leads to disconnection when they point out that “information and communication technologies (ICTs) limit the number of non-verbal social cues available during social interactions (i.e., facial expressions, vocal inflections, body language; Lee, 2004; Tanis & Postmes, 2003; Walther, 2011), which in turn reduces the total amount of observed information that is exchanged during interactions. The consequence is that ICTs may reduce the total amount of information exchanged, including the ability to convey one’s emotions, revisit topics, and discuss topics in detail” (Ranney & Troop 2015, p. 64). This lack of information exchanged directly correlates to the Trump-era we find ourselves in. The “like” of something Facebook recommends we like or the “follow” we give to someone Twitter says we should follow supplants the way one explains themselves, relying instead on social crutches to explain their views or personality for them through shares or re-tweets.

In 2016 people could go online and like a page proclaiming, “Make America Great Again,” they could buy a red hat and wear it and in those few words, so much could be said. Was it a movement? A feeling? A trend?

Whatever it was, people could share it, their “friends” could “like” it and their views were validated. The kicker was when those “likes” turned into mobile votes.

Instances such as this, mass movements based on catch-phrases and gut-impulses, is a natural conclusion to an online, social culture based on self-promotion, fast, bountiful information and limited time to consume or articulate stances, viewpoints or feelings. There lacks a need to explain one’s post if it is someone else doing the explaining. The digital author simply gets the credit for sharing, not articulating and the greater the ecosystem of engagement created, the greater the success.

If something feels right, why not share it and see who reciprocates those feelings?

Part V: Moving On

As an avid digital author in numerous forms myself, it is unclear whether there is a remedy to the popularity driven social authorship or whether there even needs to be a remedy. In essence, is being driven by popularity wrong? The moral implications of why we engage on social media aside, it can be asserted with confidence that the vast majority of our social, digital authorship through personal posts, blogs, vlogs, podcasts or other forms of creative publication is driven by a need for validation within a community or by a more open-public audience.

Validation in the form of debate-seeking trolls or likes or upvotes all add to a subconscious (or conscious!) tally of who sees our stuff, who likes it and who values its creation in the first place.

In short, we are a large part of each other’s entertainment, so we’d better have evidence that we are entertaining!

Ranney (2017) in his study of adolescent social interaction on the internet as a means to maintain social hierarchies, points to the growing influence of digital societies on social interaction. Ranney notes that “socialization through information and communication technology (ICTs) is so pervasive that, compared to 35% adolescents who report socializing face-to-face outside of school, 63% of adolescents text their friends daily, 39% talk with friends on cell phones, 29% message friends through social networks, 22% communicate through instant messaging, and 6% email their friends daily (Lenhart, 2012). Although time spent in school and in-person gatherings with friends remain important for adolescents’ social and emotional well-being, a majority of the social interactions that peers have with one another during adolescence is currently taking place in digitally mediated contexts” (Ranney 2015, p. 2). This time spent in digital social circles points to a need to fully understand and embrace what drives acts of digital authorship, come to terms with the underlying reason people are engaging online and decide whether “online” is ever meant for something bigger; driven by creations that are less self-serving.

Despite researching adolescents, I would not expect an adult sample to look much different in terms of time spent in digital realms. An adolescent posting about secret levels in a computer game and a middle aged man posting a cat meme are both driven to publish material for the same reasons; recognition and validation. It’s almost like a mantra.

Thus, as with anything else, attention is the catalyst for what one chooses to do. Where we place our attention is where we place value and seek to find quality.

Tiffany Shlain (2017) points out that “attention is the mind’s greatest resource”. She goes on to picture “the Internet, like the developing brain of a child…in a rapid phase of growth and change” (Shlain 2017). Like a small child, countless synapses are forming as the Internet grows in real time. More than being just “along for the ride,” we are active builders in the unseen and unrealized scope of what the Internet will become. Our acts of digital authorship, while being currently driven by popularity as a catalyst to create might need to become something more empathetic or humble if we hope to see social media and digital platforms become more altruistic than they appear to be. If Facebook’s recent rebrand as something “pure” has shown us anything, it seems we might be turning a small corner towards seeing social media in a different light.

There’s more to all of this than just “sharing” in different forms. I’m sure of it.

“This means that just as we must be mindful in how we nurture our children’s minds,” Shlain notes, “we must also pay careful attention to how we develop our global brain” (Shlain 2017). Our information and our authorship is shared content in the public domain. No matter what the privacy settings, someone else has access to it. It is a building block. It might feel insignificant or goofy or even useless and futile, but it is valuable information that informs a larger design. With the role of “builder” rather than “user” in mind, one can begin to envision a larger calling in the name of global consciousness and motivation behind digital authorship. One begins to not just be a personal creator, but a contributing creator. One is part of a larger one.

On the other hand, maybe a good, well-timed meme is as good as it gets.

Resources

Fichter, D. d., & Avery, C. c. (2012). Tools of Influence: Strategic Use of Social Media. Online, 36(4), 58–60.

Isaksen, Joachim Vogt. (2013). The Looking Glass Self: How Our Self-image is Shaped by Society. Retrieved April 17, 2018, from http://www.popularsocialscience.com/2013/05/27/the-looking-glass-self-how-our-self-image-is-shaped-by-society/

Jin, S. v., & Muqaddam, A. m. (2018). “Narcissism 2.0! Would narcissists follow fellow narcissists on Instagram?” the mediating effects of narcissists personality similarity and envy, and the moderating effects of popularity. Computers In Human Behavior, 8131–41.

Levordashka, A. a., & Utz, S. s. (2016). Ambient awareness: From random noise to digital closeness in online social networks. Computers In Human Behavior, 60147–154.

Milošević-Đorđević, J. J., & Žeželj, I. z. (2017). Civic activism online: Making young people dormant or more active in real life?. Computers In Human Behavior, 70113–118.

Ranney, J. D. (2015). Popular in the digital age: Self-monitoring, aggression, and prosocial behaviors in digital contexts and their associations with popularity (Doctoral dissertation, North Dakota State University).

Ranney, J.D., & Troop-Gordon, W. (2015). Problem discussions in digital contexts: The impact of information and communication technologies on emotional experiences and feelings of closeness toward friends. Computers in Human Behavior, 51, 64–74.

Shlain, T. (2017). How The Internet Is Like A Child’s Brain. Retrieved April 17, 2018, from https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/brain-power-film-and-ted-book_b_2083785.html

Wu, Y. w., Chang, W. i., & Yuan, C. d. (2015). Do Facebook profile pictures reflect user’s personality?. Computers In Human Behavior, 51880–889.

[theartgearguide]

Prismacolor Premier Colored Pencil Review

Prismacolor Premier Colored Pencil Review

I have to look at this review in a slightly different way to the vast majority of my other reviews, I really don't think there is anything I can say about the Prismacolor Premier pencils that hasn't already been said by many fine colored pencil artists. So I am going to try my best and offer a different perspective and try to put to bed any issues surrounding Prismacolor over the past few years or so. 

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My Prismacolor Experience 

Over the past year or so I have been pretty critical of Prismacolor Premier pencils and this is the reason why. When I first got into colored pencils, the vast majority of the YouTube videos about spoke mainly of Prismacolor and so they were the pencils I wanted to get. 

My first set was a 72 set, which at the time was the first time in my life that I had spent more than £5 of any type of art supplies. I was so excited when I first opened the set and seen all the amazing colors, I had never seen anything like it before. As you all know, when you get your first set of colored pencils, they are all blunt and need sharpened, so I got right on to sharpening my new Prismacolor pencils. 

The very first pencil I sharpened kept breaking and I had to stop sharpening as half the pencil had gone before so much as making a mark with it. The same thing happened to the next pencil and the next and the next and on it went. Of the 72 set, approximately ten of them sharpened without breaking, needless to say I was devastated. 

To begin with I put this all down to shipping, perhaps the pencils had been knocked about during transit and the cores had been shattered. A while later I purchased a second 72 set, hoping that I was right about the first set and that it was just one of those things; unfortunately this was not the case and the second set was a little bit better than the first but not by much.

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Moving Forward With Prismacolor

I have been reviewing pencils for a year or two now and so I decided that after all I have learnt regarding looking after colored pencils, using the right sharpeners, the correct paper etc, I would come back to Prismacolor and give them one final go. I can't say another review as I have never actually reviewed Prismacolor Premier on The Art Gear Guide or my YouTube Channel 

However, before taking a fresh look at an old and well respected colored pencil, lets look over some of the more traditional aspects of colored pencil reviews.

Prismacolor Sets

Perhaps one of the most attractive things about Prismacolor Premier colored pencils right now is the the amazing price they are being sold for. Long before I became involved in colored pencils, Prismacolor Premier pencils were very much the preferred pencil of choice for colored pencil artists in America, but back in Prismacolor's hay day they were considerably more pricy than we can get them now. 

The sets currently available are a set of 12, a 24 set, a 36 set, 48 set, the awesome 72 set, 132 set and most recently included is the outstanding 150 set. In 2011 Prismacolor bumped their 132 set up to 150 with a few additional colors along with one or two colors previously dropped but requested back by popular demand. 

Heres were the serious temptation comes into play, even if you know that pencils are going to break, barrels are going to be shattered and cores simply drop out from the centre. Here in the UK for 72 Prismacolor Premier pencils you will pay only £32 and for the same set in the US $24. When you go to the top of the line and get the 150 set which is the set I purchased, again in the UK it will cost £88 and in the US $79, which no matter which way you cut it, for 150 colored pencils these are attractive prices. 

Prismacolor Characteristics

As always I have made a YouTube video for you where I complete my testing without all this information, however I have added it here just incase there are those of you perhaps new to Prismacolor. I did it this way simply because so many people have reviewed Prismacolor and their issues have been well documented and debated. 

The pencil itself sports a round barrel and a relatively slim barrel at that, 7mm barrel and a 3..8mm core. The core consists of the softest wax, giving Prismacolor that incredibly renowned creamy buttery lay down that we all love so much about the pencils and the seamless blending. 

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Along the barrel is printed in silver print, "Prismacolor" followed by the pencil brand which is "Premier". After this is the color name in English and then the color is printed in a second language. Finally toward the very end of the pencil is a number prefixed with the letters PC, this is simply for open stock reference should you wish to purchase pencils in this style. 

My Own Prismacolor Test 

As I have already mentioned, I wanted to try an create a test that would help people and also be a little bit different from all the other reviews on Prismacolor. The vast majority of the problems debated about these pencils is the constant breakage and that is what I hope to address here. 

It is vital that no matter what pencil you use, but especially soft wax based pencils, that you use a sharp sharpener. I know this may sound daft, but how many of you actually change the blades in your sharpeners? Using a blunt sharpener is only going to snag on the wood or the core and create problems, we will look at the four sharpeners I used in this test soon. 

Before I started the testing I checked every single pencil barrel for splits and crack and much to my surprise there was not a single damaged barrel out of 150 pencils. Next I checked the pencil cores. A major contributing factor to pencil breakage is if the pencil cores and not central in the barrel, this has been a major complaint from many Prismacolor users over the years. There were quite a few off centre but nothing too drastic.

I did see a few were the cores looked like they had not been filled in the barrel correctly, almost as if air bubbles got into the drying process. I have no idea whether or not this affects the performance of the pencil however, take a look for yourself and see what I mean and if you have experienced a similar issue. 

Sharpeners Used 

As I have mentioned, the sharpener is vital, it doesn't have to be the most expensive sharpener in the world but it does need to be very sharp. Have you ever tried to cut a nice ripe tomato with a blunt knife? if you have you will know that you end up with a pulp of mess, this is the same for pencil sharpening. The four sharpeners I have used in this test are the Brass M&R handheld, a German made sharpener, the KUM handheld sharpener, the Derwent Superpoint Hand Crank and another M&R Hand Crank Sharpener. 

In my opinion the hand crank sharpeners are the best because the pencil is kept completely still, teeth in the hand crank sharpener grab hold of the pencil and keep it in place while the blade rotates around the pencil. When we use a handheld sharpener, the pencil is twisted and the blade is kept still, it is this twisting action, combined with the off centred core that causes pressure on the core, causing it to snap. 

To best see this demonstration check out the YouTube video, however I have also added images below, showing the results from each of the sharpeners. 

Conclusion 

On this occasion I did not of course sharpen all 150 pencils, however I picked a random selection from the trays. I was so happy with the results, 100% better than my experience with both 72 sets I had purchased in the past. So was it me that was causing the problems? was it my lack of experience that caused all those pencils to break? I have to say that I think it has played a major part in the results. 

I can think of nothing else other than my inexperience during the first two sets when I was very new to colored pencil art. On this occasion I knew to have a good sharp pencil sharpener, I knew to protect my pencils and ensure that non of them had been dropped or knocked and I knew to take my time with the hand held sharpeners and not rush through it otherwise accentuating the twisting motion.

I am really pleased that I gave Prismacolor another go and I really hope that this test has helped you. Thank you so much for your support. 

[marchagainsttrump]

One Canadian's View on Trump Part 2 - [

Hello Again.

I want to first thank everyone who took the time to respond to my last post (Part 1) with their opinions and a few posting tips.

Just to preface my 2nd installment I would like to say first that I had initially planned to present my thoughts in a somewhat orderly and sequential way, in other words a chronological account of how my opinions on Trump evolved over time. However, the Trump saga is unfolding at such an astonishing pace these days that's it's hard to avoid jumping around a bit in the presentation of my thesis.

Secondly, although I have written countless papers while at University which required proper bibliographies and the referencing of sources, for the purposes of this essay I don’t feel this necessary. The quotes, tweets, news items etc that I refer to are all easily verifiable, with most being available on YouTube. I am presenting the opinions of one fairly average, ordinary Canadian(I think); obviously this is not a formal, fully researched political science paper.

Please excuse grammatical errors and spelling mistakes as I have no time to edit. I really shouldn’t even be devoting my limited free-time to writing this, but feel that the situation is dire and therefore I am compelled to express myself and add my voice to the mix. My hope is that many Americans may be interested in, and perhaps benefit from the observations of one of your neighbours to the North. And of course the consequences of this man’s actions greatly affect Canadians as well.

Who are these people in Trump’s base? The people cheering at his rallies. The people parroting his cries of “fake news”. I understand why people might have felt they were let down by previous administrations, left feeling disenfranchised and wanting a change. I understand why Trump’s heavy-handed policies and forceful campaigning style appealed to a large part of the country, and worked in defeating Hillary.

But that was then and this is now. It completely mystifies how anyone could possibly support this man after what we have witnessed for the past eight months! It should have nothing to do with one’s ideology at this point; not an issue of whether one is a Republican or a Democrat, a Progressive or a Conservative.

My disbelief is because it is blatantly obvious that Trump has proven on an almost daily basis that he is a pathological liar with an extremely distorted perception of reality. This plus his erratic behavior, inability to accept criticism, inability to take responsibility for (or even admit) any failure, constant obsessive/compulsive tendencies lead me to believe that he is quite likely mentally ill. I don’t care who you are...is this the type of person you want leading your country? Do you not see how he has so greatly diminished the office of the president, and by extension diminished your whole nation even if you agree with his extreme ideology? What kind of country is it that you want? What kind of world?

Canada is a peaceful nation. Like the U.S. we value above all liberty and the right to pursue happiness...but we seem to value peace much more than Americans, on both a national and individual level. I get it...you have the responsibility of being the world’s police, (and as with most police agencies there are often abuses of power), but I’m also referring to our more fundamental, individual peace-loving nature. As a Canadian I have been exposed to American culture all of my life...movies, TV etc. and have travelled through the U.S. many times, and it seems clear to me that Americans are always ready to fight, much more so than Canadians. I’ve seen it countless times ...the very quick escalation to violence, from seemingly little provocation.

I remember when I was in university I drove to New York City for a few days with a roommate. After a very long drive we arrived a night and decided to stop at a bar in Manhattan for a beer. We loved the real New York feel of the place...the type of bar that Archie Bunker would have drank at. Before we had finished our beer an argument broke out between a patron and the guy running the place. It got pretty loud, and the guy in the bar finally left, yelling that he was going home to get his gun, and would be back! We were freaked out and got out of there quick.

I remember too growing up watching Irv Weinstein doing the Buffalo local newscast every day, as this was prior to the advent of cable TV, and ABC out of Buffalo was one of the few channels available. We used to laugh in disbelief, calling it the Buffalo fire and murder report. That’s basically all that this newscast was...daily coverage of fires and murders!! And I don’t mean a re-telling, I mean new fires, and new murders(plural!!) every day!! Understand that by comparison Toronto is a city of over 3 million, and it averages one murder per week...and those are big news! Even the stereotype of Canadians that I see expressed in the American media as well as here, includes the trait of being overly polite, forever apologizing. We are definitely not a nation of Rambos.

The world we build around us is an expression of what’s going on inside us, and these expressions of our collective internal state are apparent not just in our art, but in many places including our leadership. That is the theory right?...that our leaders speak as the voice, and carry out the will of the collective. So it doesn’t surprise me that the angry, disenfranchised part of the U.S. population elected a brutish, bellicose leader. By contrast, here in Canada where we all get along quite well, embrace diversity, have few guns, and where issues can be debated civilly, (and btw we can smoke pot)...our leader is Trudeau. Whatever you may think of his politics, he is a decent intelligent man (and btw seems to be loved around the world).

The problem, and cause for my utter dismay is that the truth has been laid out clearly for the whole world to see...that Trump has nothing to bring to the office but the bluster. And after eight months of lies and self-contradictions even the bluster is losing effect. His rhetoric is not being backed up with clear ideology and leadership, and so like the boy that cried “wolf” it seems that people are starting to disregard his message.

Well here we are...faced with the scenario we all feared, and just 8 months in. A world crisis, probably the worst that anyone younger than 55 has ever known, and it’s being handled by a moron. Instead of an intelligent, well-studied leader who understands the complexities of the situation and the importance of choosing his words wisely, we have instead a hot-headed ignoramus in a pissing match with a lunatic(you decide who is who).

I have gone back and watched countless videos of Trump speeches and interviews, and realize that there is no indication that he has ever understood anything but the most fundamental points of any issue. None. Let’s face it...the man is an idiot. He is nothing but a self-promoter, a loudmouth who figured out how to draw media attention and use it to his advantage. That’s it as far as I can see. Even his business acumen is suspect, and I would wager that Mueller’s look into his ill-gotten gains will reveal a net worth far less than he has stated.

So now, 8 months in, he is the one that the world is depending on the steer us clear of disaster. A man who needs the details of the developing catastrophe kept to less than one page, with bullet-points and pictures. He cannot possibly appreciate the intricacies of this complex situation. His wreckless “fire and fury”comments to the press yesterday were just downright stupid, and highlight his ineptitude and incapacity for diplomacy. He only had one or two sentences to get out, and even still he blew it again!! Most thinking is that he went off script by adding the tag “than the world has ever seen”...one of his standard catch-phrases that he has used many times.

Even his language was so characteristically moronic. After warning the N Koreans that any further threats would be met with “fire and fury”, he repeated himself but this time adding three words to his comment... “threats would be met with fire and fury and frankly power”, as though he thought it would add clarity or might to his statement.

I am also reminded of one of Trump’s many hundreds of inappropriate or wreckless comments which rings rather poignant today, and again highlights the need for careful, accurate language especially when it is going on record, and especially when spoken by someone in power. Not long ago Trump made the comment that nukes are made for a reason...to be used!

It’s now several hours after writing the last few paragraphs, and it’s been confirmed that Trump improvised his “fire and fury” ultimatum. I knew it had to be. Now please tell me, is he the only person on this planet that doesn’t realize the importance of delivering a clear, carefully constructed and well deliberated message in a situation this sensitive! How dare he speak so impulsively! But then again that’s how he responds to any threat or criticism; bullying is all he knows, and all he’s got since he doesn’t have the brain-power to compete with the big boys. He is not fit to deal with this situation, or the presidency in general.

It’s now Friday 2:30 am. I would like to keep typing, fueled by my outrage at this man and the cadre of dunces that he brings with him. There is so much more to say, but many much more eloquent than me are saying similar things. Here you can hear Lawrence O’Donnell et. al. say it so well... https://youtu.be/7ZNqCRd9ke0 .

It seems almost futile at this point...certainly from this side of our border. Take to the streets!...your country has a great history of protest. Somehow this man (as well as the fascist alt-right movement) must be stopped from steering the world away from a path of progress and healing. We are now a global community, and unless competition and warring is replaced with a world mindset of co-operation, we are doomed.

I find myself feeling something that is quite foreign to me, and a feeling that I don’t like within me...that of hatred. Every time I see that mealy-mouthed creep lying so easily, knowing that he is jeopardizing my children’s future, my blood boils.

To his base I would say this...

Two important things that I have learned in my life are:

1) that when 10 or 20 people are saying one thing, and I am saying another...I am probably wrong as much as I would like it to be otherwise. That fact is that Trump is strongly disapproved of around the whole world and by the majority of Americans. There must be a reason for that! Please understand that the countless millions who see him as a failure (the overwhelming majority of the planet) should tell you that you cannot be seeing things clearly. I understand that it is hard for any of us to admit that we were wrong, but here the stakes are critically high!...and 2) I would rather have peace than be right!!

That’s all for now. If a couple of nukes hit, come up to Canada...we take in lots of refugees. Just please...leave your guns at home.

Sean

]

[marchagainsttrump]

One Canadian's View on Trump Part 2 - [

Hello Again.

I want to first thank everyone who took the time to respond to my last post (Part 1) with their opinions and a few posting tips.

Just to preface my 2nd installment I would like to say first that I had initially planned to present my thoughts in a somewhat orderly and sequential way, in other words a chronological account of how my opinions on Trump evolved over time. However, the Trump saga is unfolding at such an astonishing pace these days that's it's hard to avoid jumping around a bit in the presentation of my thesis.

Secondly, although I have written countless papers while at University which required proper bibliographies and the referencing of sources, for the purposes of this essay I don’t feel this necessary. The quotes, tweets, news items etc that I refer to are all easily verifiable, with most being available on YouTube. I am presenting the opinions of one fairly average, ordinary Canadian(I think); obviously this is not a formal, fully researched political science paper.

Please excuse grammatical errors and spelling mistakes as I have no time to edit. I really shouldn’t even be devoting my limited free-time to writing this, but feel that the situation is dire and therefore I am compelled to express myself and add my voice to the mix. My hope is that many Americans may be interested in, and perhaps benefit from the observations of one of your neighbours to the North. And of course the consequences of this man’s actions greatly affect Canadians as well.

Who are these people in Trump’s base? The people cheering at his rallies. The people parroting his cries of “fake news”. I understand why people might have felt they were let down by previous administrations, left feeling disenfranchised and wanting a change. I understand why Trump’s heavy-handed policies and forceful campaigning style appealed to a large part of the country, and worked in defeating Hillary.

But that was then and this is now. It completely mystifies how anyone could possibly support this man after what we have witnessed for the past eight months! It should have nothing to do with one’s ideology at this point; not an issue of whether one is a Republican or a Democrat, a Progressive or a Conservative.

My disbelief is because it is blatantly obvious that Trump has proven on an almost daily basis that he is a pathological liar with an extremely distorted perception of reality. This plus his erratic behavior, inability to accept criticism, inability to take responsibility for (or even admit) any failure, constant obsessive/compulsive tendencies lead me to believe that he is quite likely mentally ill. I don’t care who you are...is this the type of person you want leading your country? Do you not see how he has so greatly diminished the office of the president, and by extension diminished your whole nation even if you agree with his extreme ideology? What kind of country is it that you want? What kind of world?

Canada is a peaceful nation. Like the U.S. we value above all liberty and the right to pursue happiness...but we seem to value peace much more than Americans, on both a national and individual level. I get it...you have the responsibility of being the world’s police, (and as with most police agencies there are often abuses of power), but I’m also referring to our more fundamental, individual peace-loving nature. As a Canadian I have been exposed to American culture all of my life...movies, TV etc. and have travelled through the U.S. many times, and it seems clear to me that Americans are always ready to fight, much more so than Canadians. I’ve seen it countless times ...the very quick escalation to violence, from seemingly little provocation.

I remember when I was in university I drove to New York City for a few days with a roommate. After a very long drive we arrived a night and decided to stop at a bar in Manhattan for a beer. We loved the real New York feel of the place...the type of bar that Archie Bunker would have drank at. Before we had finished our beer an argument broke out between a patron and the guy running the place. It got pretty loud, and the guy in the bar finally left, yelling that he was going home to get his gun, and would be back! We were freaked out and got out of there quick.

I remember too growing up watching Irv Weinstein doing the Buffalo local newscast every day, as this was prior to the advent of cable TV, and ABC out of Buffalo was one of the few channels available. We used to laugh in disbelief, calling it the Buffalo fire and murder report. That’s basically all that this newscast was...daily coverage of fires and murders!! And I don’t mean a re-telling, I mean new fires, and new murders(plural!!) every day!! Understand that by comparison Toronto is a city of over 3 million, and it averages one murder per week...and those are big news! Even the stereotype of Canadians that I see expressed in the American media as well as here, includes the trait of being overly polite, forever apologizing. We are definitely not a nation of Rambos.

The world we build around us is an expression of what’s going on inside us, and these expressions of our collective internal state are apparent not just in our art, but in many places including our leadership. That is the theory right?...that our leaders speak as the voice, and carry out the will of the collective. So it doesn’t surprise me that the angry, disenfranchised part of the U.S. population elected a brutish, bellicose leader. By contrast, here in Canada where we all get along quite well, embrace diversity, have few guns, and where issues can be debated civilly, (and btw we can smoke pot)...our leader is Trudeau. Whatever you may think of his politics, he is a decent intelligent man (and btw seems to be loved around the world).

The problem, and cause for my utter dismay is that the truth has been laid out clearly for the whole world to see...that Trump has nothing to bring to the office but the bluster. And after eight months of lies and self-contradictions even the bluster is losing effect. His rhetoric is not being backed up with clear ideology and leadership, and so like the boy that cried “wolf” it seems that people are starting to disregard his message.

Well here we are...faced with the scenario we all feared, and just 8 months in. A world crisis, probably the worst that anyone younger than 55 has ever known, and it’s being handled by a moron. Instead of an intelligent, well-studied leader who understands the complexities of the situation and the importance of choosing his words wisely, we have instead a hot-headed ignoramus in a pissing match with a lunatic(you decide who is who).

I have gone back and watched countless videos of Trump speeches and interviews, and realize that there is no indication that he has ever understood anything but the most fundamental points of any issue. None. Let’s face it...the man is an idiot. He is nothing but a self-promoter, a loudmouth who figured out how to draw media attention and use it to his advantage. That’s it as far as I can see. Even his business acumen is suspect, and I would wager that Mueller’s look into his ill-gotten gains will reveal a net worth far less than he has stated.

So now, 8 months in, he is the one that the world is depending on the steer us clear of disaster. A man who needs the details of the developing catastrophe kept to less than one page, with bullet-points and pictures. He cannot possibly appreciate the intricacies of this complex situation. His wreckless “fire and fury”comments to the press yesterday were just downright stupid, and highlight his ineptitude and incapacity for diplomacy. He only had one or two sentences to get out, and even still he blew it again!! Most thinking is that he went off script by adding the tag “than the world has ever seen”...one of his standard catch-phrases that he has used many times.

Even his language was so characteristically moronic. After warning the N Koreans that any further threats would be met with “fire and fury”, he repeated himself but this time adding three words to his comment... “threats would be met with fire and fury and frankly power”, as though he thought it would add clarity or might to his statement.

I am also reminded of one of Trump’s many hundreds of inappropriate or wreckless comments which rings rather poignant today, and again highlights the need for careful, accurate language especially when it is going on record, and especially when spoken by someone in power. Not long ago Trump made the comment that nukes are made for a reason...to be used!

It’s now several hours after writing the last few paragraphs, and it’s been confirmed that Trump improvised his “fire and fury” ultimatum. I knew it had to be. Now please tell me, is he the only person on this planet that doesn’t realize the importance of delivering a clear, carefully constructed and well deliberated message in a situation this sensitive! How dare he speak so impulsively! But then again that’s how he responds to any threat or criticism; bullying is all he knows, and all he’s got since he doesn’t have the brain-power to compete with the big boys. He is not fit to deal with this situation, or the presidency in general.

It’s now Friday 2:30 am. I would like to keep typing, fueled by my outrage at this man and the cadre of dunces that he brings with him. There is so much more to say, but many much more eloquent than me are saying similar things. Here you can hear Lawrence O’Donnell et. al. say it so well... https://youtu.be/7ZNqCRd9ke0 .

It seems almost futile at this point...certainly from this side of our border. Take to the streets!...your country has a great history of protest. Somehow this man (as well as the fascist alt-right movement) must be stopped from steering the world away from a path of progress and healing. We are now a global community, and unless competition and warring is replaced with a world mindset of co-operation, we are doomed.

I find myself feeling something that is quite foreign to me, and a feeling that I don’t like within me...that of hatred. Every time I see that mealy-mouthed creep lying so easily, knowing that he is jeopardizing my children’s future, my blood boils.

To his base I would say this...

Two important things that I have learned in my life are:

1) that when 10 or 20 people are saying one thing, and I am saying another...I am probably wrong as much as I would like it to be otherwise. That fact is that Trump is strongly disapproved of around the whole world and by the majority of Americans. There must be a reason for that! Please understand that the countless millions who see him as a failure (the overwhelming majority of the planet) should tell you that you cannot be seeing things clearly. I understand that it is hard for any of us to admit that we were wrong, but here the stakes are critically high!...and 2) I would rather have peace than be right!!

That’s all for now. If a couple of nukes hit, come up to Canada...we take in lots of refugees. Just please...leave your guns at home.

Sean

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