#moving onto regular broadcast

[moonlightsapphic]

I can’t disagree that that was divisive of me to put it the way I did, so I do apologise for that. To be clear, I wasn’t being too serious and I don’t think young folks should be bullied at large by any means. I also don’t think users who are reblogging this want to pick on young queer folks. As a gen z I am also just shy of being a “young queer”. Most of the queer folks I am in community with are young.

But the gender essentialism-oriented separatist movement and “political lesbianism”, as well as the new exclusive definition of the identity “lesbian” (which was once used the same as the term “sapphic” to describe all WLW), all have a cultural starting off point in the ’60s, historically speaking. By definition, it’s not at all wrong to say that some shifts are contemporary phenomena. Have gatekeepers always existed? Yes. Do they sometimes exist on a larger scale, which speaks to the culture of the time? Also yes. Sapphics in the ’40s were more likely to know about the versatility of butch/fem than sapphics in 2025 might. Social media (in itself a modern phenomenon), while being an awesome resource to access diverse knowledge, has also fueled a misinformation trend where people will sometimes base their opinions on Tiktok videos and Tweets that don’t have sources. I would recommend everybody to watch the video and read the essay that I have cited as secondary sources to learn more. They’re super interesting and accessible, and they have many primary sources listed in case I have made a mistake anywhere!

In my country, not even queer adults have rights or visibility, though they might have some financial independence from their families. (That is also precarious because there are no legal protections for queer folks in employment.) It’s way more socially acceptable to be homophobic/transphobic than to be an ally, and even the word feminism is tabooed. The default is to stay closeted forever. I genuinely don’t even personally know any older queer folk, not even millennials (other than like, a couple of super lowkey public figures), in my country. I assure you I personally don’t need to be reminded of the vulnerability of young queer folk, but I appreciate the context added for users who come from countries that have more LGBTQ+ rights. I’m always glad to see older queer folks exhibit fierce protectiveness. I certainly did not have access to mentor figures like that when I was younger, but I try to get involved and do my part as an adult now.

At the risk of doubling down: Young people are as naïve as they are revolutionary, and that is just humans nature. My country has had some awesome sociopolitical changes led by youth and also some dumb as fuck ones. People of all ages have their quirks, some of which are, for better or for worse, generalizable. (Twenty-somethings like me, for example, unnecessarily meme on Tumblr about how exhausting young people can be, which is silly and egotistical too.) I haven’t really come across the queer youth hate train on here but I assure everyone my blog isn’t the place you’re going to find it. (Though you might find some desi millennial hate here and there if you’re into that, LMAO. I promise it’s justified and not that serious either.) It’s also … not very kind to knee-jerk mansplain a user you don’t know on a relatively non-inflammatory meme post. But I understand that the intention was positive and totally agree with everything said!

I learned a lot today from Obviously Queer’s video essay “FEMME: Lesbian History, Identity, Politics and Invisibility” and femmebis’ “The “Lesbian-Only Term” Myth: A Comprehensive Historical Essay on ‘Butch’ and ‘Femme’ ”.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

bonus! i said i wasn't posting anything new til this weekend but i just got up to s5 e2 and spencer reid with that lollipop has made me insane, here's a drabble i just wrote in like 30 mins. barely edited, hot off the presses, hope u like

sucker

~500 words

Who the hell let this man have a lollipop in the workplace?

You could kill Garcia. 

You’re trying to act normal– trying so hard– but he looks so good. His hair is longer than it's ever been, so beautifully curly at the ends and you just know it’s soft. You need to test the theory but you can’t and it kills you on even a regular day. 

But today is a thousand times worse. There’s something about Spencer since he got shot, he just seems to give less of a shit. It definitely shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. 

It doesn’t help that you’d come in to tell him that you all had to be on the jet in thirty, and then he and Garcia had started asking questions, so Spencer’s been looking up at you from his chair for the past few minutes and something about it is getting to you. 

So yeah, you’re trying not to get so immediately caught for staring at Spencer as he wraps his lips around the lollipop again, but you’re also not about to miss a single second of it. You’re not about to do yourself that disservice. 

You clear your throat as the news broadcast about your unsub ends. “Right. So we’re going to Louisville.” 

Spencer moves to get up, finally. Popping the candy in his mouth, he waves one– large, long-fingered– hand at Garcia and reaches for his crutches. 

What is wrong with you?? You need to get it together before you’re stuck on the jet with pretty boy and all of the most astute people-readers in the Western hemisphere. 

God, you hate your life. If the universe was kind and loving it wouldn’t have had you meet Spencer in the behavioral analysis unit. If the universe was kind and loving, Spencer would be yours already. 

This was some kind of cosmic joke. 

“You good?” he asks. He took the lollipop out of his mouth to speak to you, his eyebrows raised in the most annoyingly attractive way. 

“Yeah?” you scoff, as if he’s the one being weird. 

“Okay. Cause you told me we have to leave and now somehow you can’t keep up with the guy on crutches,” he muses from the doorway, while you haven’t moved an inch. 

This man. If he wasn’t injured you would hurt him. You might just do it anyway. 

You shoot him a sarcastic smile. “I was being polite.” 

“How chivalrous of you,” he says, putting the candy back in his mouth and crutching his way down the hall without a second glance. 

You look at Garcia, and it’s a mistake. You can read her like a book. “Don’t,” you warn, pointing at her, and she presses her lips together but is clearly smiling behind them. “And I am so mad at you for that,” you add, gesturing after him. 

“Wh– he just took one, it’s not like I–” 

“Save it!” you call, already halfway out the room. You hear her laugh behind you, and shake your head. You love that girl, but she was not doing you any favors. 

Fuck it. 

You breeze past Spencer in the hallway. “Keep up, pretty boy.” 

You hear his indignant, playful scoff behind you, and you can’t help the smirk that creeps onto your face.

[staticofthetv]

I did it for Knives, now its his brobro's turn.

Edit: I'd like to apologize for what comes next as I wrote it in one go while hyperactive

Vash's design in tristamp is just as interesting to me as hundred spoons is for very similar but not quite the same reasons. Part of it is still the subverting expectations by having the arguably more angelic character have a darker colour scheme and look like something you wouldn't want to come across at any time of day. With both twins their looks very much align with how they view themselves, knives is pure and angelic and vash is dirty and demonic by comparison.

While it's not a traditional demon look I'd still argue that vash does look it. The most obvious is his iconic red coat, but also consider the massive form he becomes when knives fucks with his head. Yeah it's hauntingly beautiful, especially when you see it from our perspective as the audience but when you look at it from the perspective of the regular people on gunsmoke, that thing growing out of July would absolutely be demonic. It's dark in colour, it's sprouting random flowers (this is important), and most importantly its tearing the city apart.

Focusing on the actions during the fight first, I think it would make sense for the people witnessing it to think Vash is the demon and Knives is the angel trying to save the city. Partly because of Vash being blamed for everything Knives has done already painting him as the bad guy no matter what's actually happening and also the widespread broadcasting of the eye of michael teachings.

Moving onto the flowers and why I think they qualify as demonic. One of the most popular things in modern media that have Lucifer, satan, whatever you wanna call him in it he's the perfect picture of hotness. Everyone wants to be him or be with him, and this makes sense for his purpose in life! He's supposed to tempt people into sin so him having an ass so hot he could tempt even the most devout does hold ground in a portrayal. This fake beauty to hide the hell lying in wait I think is how the people on gunsmoke saw Vash. Even from the audience perspective tree Vash is still kind of a perversion of the classic angelic beauty but for a different reason. Vash is being torn apart mentally in that scene, the amount of anguish is unimaginable. Angels aren't supposed to feel pain like this, they don't get affected by the actions of others. In response his gate basically goes into overdrive to try and protect him but (and this is kinda theory kinda not) Vash's gate isn't like the typical plant gate. The pain he's experiencing isn't angelic and so the physical results of it look like a distorted imitation attempt.

Even then going with the classic version of the devil in media, who in the nicest way possible usually looks like he belongs under a bridge trying to trick children into crossing so he can eat them, I still think fits vash. Having him look so human, especially when put next to Knives, gives off the feeling of ugliness. I'm not saying he actually is, he's very much a pretty plant, BUT it's exactly like comparing a human to an angel. Plus if we look at his scars the feeling of him being less than builds up more. Again I'm not saying scars are ugly, this is an analysis of religious imagery and how I think it lines up with what's written in the Bible as a loser with baptist religious trauma and my own scars to show for it, I just wanna make that clear. The physical appearance of Vash, when compared to Knives at the end of the series very much gives the devil standing next to an angel and it ties into how each twin views themselves once again. Vash's self esteem is already so low it's in hell, he doesn't see himself as beautiful, pure, angelic, whatever. This is reflected in his appearance, he makes an effort to look human and fit in with others because the he sees himself as no better than the worst of them. Meanwhile Knives is touting about with as much angelic energy as his murderous little soul can muster because that's exactly what he thinks he is. An angel, or God himself, with a holy mission of creating a new garden of eden for plants.

Based on what we see during Vash and Knives confrontation when Vash loses his arm and also the plant lore that was revealed recently, Vash has a gate that takes. I don't know if this can be considered theory because Vash's gate has acted like a blackhole multiple times. This ties into my thoughts on the coat and glasses changing colours after he returns from being trapped while still relating to the main point of Vash having demonic energy, I promise.

In the plant lore 1/3 its stated that the power that takes away was sealed away for reasons. Presumably it hasn't been seen in long enough that even the people aboard the SEEDS ship didn't know much about it or don't have any experience with this power. Knives very clearly lines up with the power that brings in his motivations and manifestation of his gate. He's bringing material into the world, he's bringing the planet to a new age, he's bringing the plants to Eden. Vash however is the other side of that coin, the power that takes away. Based on the name alone this power would be considered demonic. Add in the fact that it quite literally manifests as a blackhole and it's very clearly not an angelic power. Vash has stated himself he can't bring anything into the world, only take from it in the form of needing to consume resources to survive. And when under severe emotional distress the distorted imitation of angelic power, also known as demonic power because that's exactly what demonic power is, comes out as a form of instinctual self protection.

It's now late enough and this post is long enough that I'm not sure it makes sense anymore, enjoy fellow tumblr people.

[elacular-kink]

Hicvember 21: Fav Fandom

Believe it or not, I actually had some trouble figuring out what to write for before I abruptly remembered what my profile pic is.

As I warned you all yesterday, this is, in fact, the silliest shit I've ever written in my life. Bear that in mind before reading.

Content: Pokemon, Non-humanoids with hiccups, Cartoony nonsense, being a furry on main.

The GBC, Galar Broadcasting Corporation, presents Pokemon Earth.

Hiccups

Ashenbough: Hello. I'm Professor David Ashenbough. With me as always is field researcher Steve Rowan.

Rowan: G'day mates!

Ashenbough: And this is Pokemon Earth. Hiccups. All humans experience them. But strangely enough, all Pokemon do as well, despite branching out far beyond the mammalian in nature. To what extent and in what way they experience them is as varied as the Pokemon themselves, so Steven and I will be taking a look at some of them today. As always, the first half of our program will feature Pokemon both domestic and wild who have agreed to be on the show, while the second half will feature...attempted candid shots of Pokemon in their natural habitats.

Rowan: Now let's get right into–HICCUP!–it!

...

Ashenbough: Here we see a nest of Marill and Azumarill. Though this stream looks placid, beneath the surface the water runs swift and roiling. In spite of this, you can see these water mice and rabbits swimming upstream and playfully splashing both one another and our hapless camera people.

A POV camera is swum up to by a Marril which then turns around and uses its large, round tail to splash water on the camera.

Rowan: That's 'cause this lovely blue fur of theirs produces natural oils that repel water, making it easier for them to swim through currents, or even bounce along the river's bed! Now! Speaking of bouncing, we have here a nice little group of bubblers and some very very spicy pokeblocks. Here you go, little mates!

A group of Marill and Azumarill gather and nibble at the pokeblocks. Though some immediately run off, others start eating even more quickly.

Ashenbough: Hmm. It seems we have a few here who take quite well to this spiciness.

Rowan: Careful with those ones. Pokemon who like spice tend to be on the strong side! Now remember, even friendly Pokemon like these little guys can be dangerous. And the Marill family specifically is one you don't wanna underestimate! You never know when one of these round little fellas is actually hiding some huge power!

One Azumarill pauses in its eating, then squeaks loudly, bouncing up into the air as it does.

Rowan: Whoa! And speaking of huge power! You okay, little guy?

The Azumarill nods, though it's rapidly bounced again.

Rowan: These fellas got lungs that can hold onto air for hours at a time, so makes sense they got some powerful diaphragms to go with it! And this big girl seems like she knows the move Bounce pretty well! Not surprising, since they can learn it before they get tough enough to evolve.

Ashenbough: While the stronger Azumarill demonstrates her admirable elasticity and buoyancy, the Marills which have not yet trained enough to evolve demonstrate a far less chaotic but no less cute reaction.

The camera focuses in on a pair of Marills, both of which are hiccuping small clusters of bubbles, though one is still trying to eat more pokeblocks around them.

Rowan: Cute, it's true! But be careful! Not all bubbles are safe to pop. You can tell that this little guy's actually using bubblebeam 'cause his are glowing, but his friend's here should be safe.

Rowan pops the bubble over one Marill demonstratively, then steps back before throwing a rock at one of the glowing bubbles, which pops loudly, causing one Marill to jump into the water while the other continues eating. Even from under the water, bubbles rise up at regular intervals.

...

Ashenbough: That a mammalian Pokemon such as the Marill family can catch the hiccups is perhaps not all that surprising. More unusual are hiccups in those who more closely resemble reptiles.

Rowan: Here we've got a pair of performers from one of Galar's most popular Pokemon-fronted bands, Eddie and Michael the Toxtricities!

A pair of Toxtricity, one Amped, and one Low Key are visible. The Amped one is mugging for the camera as it chows down on bright red pokeblocks, while the Low Key one is lounging back on a couch, lazily tossing pokeblocks into the air and catching them in its mouth. The Low Key one is the first to start hiccuping, looking mildly surprised as its chest starts jolting and the four protrusions vibrate, creating the sound of a bass guitar. The Amped one sneers at the Low Key one, audibly laughing at it.

Rowan: Now, even though Low Keys are calmer, you oughta be careful around both types of Toxtricity. Just 'cause they aren't mad about it doesn't mean that a Low Key isn't liable to pick a fight. At least if an Amped one wants to fight, they'll let you know about it!

Ashenbough: Eddie clearly sees this as some sort of competition, though Michael doesn't seem interested in rising to the bait. With each of his hiccups, you hear the characteristic low register sound of a Low Key Toxtricity, greatly resembling the strum of a bass guitar. As it is now, those noises seem to have convinced Eddie that he's won, but hubris isn't always befitting of a rock star.

Abruptly, the Amped Toxtricity's laughter is cut off by a loud hiccup that judders the protrusions on its chest, making the sound of a wailing, screeching electric guitar. It begins rapidly hiccuping and making more screeching guitar sounds, and the Low Key Toxtricity smirks and chuckles between its own hiccups.

Ashenbough: Although both band members have their part in this duet, you would be forgiven for mistaking it for a solo by Eddie. As is often the case between strong egos, a performance of Dueling Guitars is never out of the question.

The Amped Toxtricity leaps at the Low Key one, which seems perfectly happy to indulge him in a fight, the two hiccuping loudly as they grapple, electricity and visible sweat spitting out of them as Rowan backs quickly away.

...

Ashenbough: Still in the realm of performance, we were approached by a friendly Mr. Mime who wanted some time in the spotlight herself, but refused our offer of pokeblocks.

A kantoan Mr. Mime is miming holding a bowl and rapidly stirring something in it. She then pours the invisible batter into nothing, mimes holding a baking pan and opening an oven before placing it in and crossing her arms, her foot tapping.

Rowan: What a talent she is! Mr. Mimes are tricksy, so you can never be sure whether they're doing their act, or if they've actually summoned up something invisible to work with, so never take the space in front of one for granted.

The Mr. Mime's ear twitches despite no obvious sound and she grins, opening the "oven" and reaching in before yanking her hand out and shaking it. She goes through a whole rigamarole of putting on "gloves" to get the "pan" and using "tongs" to remove the invisible nothing inside of it, blowing on it, and then popping it into her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she stands still for a second, then jolts violently, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming out. She covers her mouth and jerks again, then a third time.

Ashenbough: It seems that our spicy pokeblocks weren't needed in this case. Although...it does beg the question. Steven, do you think that she actually has the hiccups?

The camera shows the Mr. Mime holding her breath and jolting before she exhales, pauses for a long second, then silently spasms again with a look of shock.

Rowan: ...honestly not sure, mate.

...

Ashenbough: And now we switch to our second segment. For the most part, we attempt to film wild Pokemon behaving candidly and do not try to interact with them. Here you'll see examples of Pokemon catching hiccups in their everyday lives without the assistance of extra spicy pokeblocks. Onto pre-filmed segments featuring Steve Rowan, with my commentary overlaid.

...

Rowan: Now here we see a Snorlax in her natural habitat: someplace that's as inconvenient as possible for her to be.

A Snorlax is visible in the middle of a bridge, currently lying on her stomach and yanking huge fistfuls of kelp and other river detritus out of the water and cramming them into her mouth.

Ashenbough: Nobody knows what draws Snorlax to areas that tend towards high foot traffic. There's a decent possibility that it's just where they're most often seen, for obvious reasons. Whether or not they prefer to be in the way, though, that's frequently where they end up.

Rowan: Now, maybe you look there and say "Arceus, that's a big girl!" And you're not wrong about that, but this lady's actually a bit on the petite side. We'll see if she's just got an unusually empty tummy or if she's just a dainty little thing once she's done having supper.

Ashenbough: Those of you familiar with this particular river might believe that this Snorlax's growth could be stunted by pollution, but while that is a problem the local environment is still dealing with, for Snorlax, it's no issue at all. A Pokemon that needs to eat nearly its body weight in food every day can't afford to be picky, especially with a body as weighty as a Snorlax, so their extremely omnivorous stomachs can handle even the most toxic of poison types, though they prefer food that isn't inclined to fight back.

Rowan: Hey editors, you'll probably wanna fast forward this part a Bergmite. When a Snorlax is asleep, the only thing you have to worry about is getting around the big bugger, but when it's awake and eating, any smart trainer'll stay the heck out of their way.

There's a brief montage of Rowan and various camera people fishing, getting B roll, and having a small Pokemon battle while the Snorlax continues eating in the background before the montage is abruptly stopped by a loud noise from the Snorlax.

Cameraperson (offscreen): What was that?

Ashenbough: It seems that a Snorlax's iron gut may not be quite immune to all ills.

The camera focuses on the Snorlax, who has stopped eating with a slight look of confusion. With a loud, deep grunt, she wobbles on top of her stomach, then does it again.

Rowan: Whoops! Looks like the sheila ate a little too fast there. Do we think she's gonna learn a lesson from it?

The Snorlax wobbles with a few more hiccups, then goes back to devouring from the river, still bouncing but ignoring them.

Rowan: Nope! Right back to work!

Ashenbough: Whether her hiccups were a factor in her decision we can't say, but it wasn't long after she caught them that this petite giant chose to go back to sleep. It seems that hiccups are one status effect that the move Rest can't cure.

The Snorlax lays on her back, still in the middle of the bridge, Snoring loudly and her massive gut bouncing with huge hiccups every few seconds.

Rowan: Like I said, once they're sleeping, they get so deep in that it's safe to even climb on 'em. Some people and Pokemon even like bouncing on their bellies. But in this case...

Rowan climbs up the Snorlax's arm, then hops onto her stomach between hiccups before being thrown into the air by her next hiccup. This happens a few times before he falls off on the same side he climbed up, looking mildly dizzy, but laughing.

Rowan: You might get a little more bounce than you bargained for!

...

Ashenbough: Many wouldn't expect an abandoned casino to be a place worth searching for Pokemon, but there are a large number of reasons it could be worth looking through.

Rowan: Right. If we find any ghosts of people's paychecks here, they might be on the nasty side, so we're gonna want to stay quiet and approach carefully if we approach at all.

A strange electrical sound is audible and Rowan motions for the camera people to be quiet. They slowly move in between old slot machines until they see a group of Porygon and Porygon2 all surrounding a single Porygon-Z whose head is repeatedly bouncing and spinning with noisy electrical hiccups.

Rowan (sotto voce): Ah! It's a zip of Porygons! You never see this many of 'em in most places, but since they're artificial and not found in the wild, unscrupulous casino runners would use 'em as prizes to keep people coming back.

Ashenbough: Porygon are not able to reproduce sexually, and the copy protection all members of the line share stops them from being replicated while inside of a computer, but just like every other Pokemon, if one encounters an accommodating Ditto...

The camera pans, showing that one of the Porygon2s has a set of beady black eyes instead of round googly ones.

Ashenbough: Life...finds a way.

Rowan (sotto voce): That middle one's looking like it's havin' some trouble there. What's it doing, is that...hah. I think it has the hiccups! Hey, make sure you get a shot of that!

The Porygon-Z continues hiccuping, its head flipping and tumbling with every hiccup as it waggles its arms and tail angrily. One of the Porygon2s moves forward and pokes its "chest" with its bill, at which point the Porygon-Z violently pecks its head.

Ashenbough: Perhaps it's not so surprising that a Porygon-Z, exposed to dubious programming as it has been, has more than a few glitches and idiosyncrasies in its behavior. Although, even from the simply-coded start of its line, Porygon have always had their quirks.

Rowan (sotto voce): Now remember, none of these little guys actually likes being on film. We're getting real lucky here, so let's—

There's a loud clunk and then the sound of spinning slots. The camera whips around and catches a glimpse of a snickering Haunter with its hand on a slot machine's arm before it fades away. Rowan yelps and something is bleeped out as the camera turns back around, briefly showing all the Porygons staring at them before static fills the screen and a set of Unown reading "TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES?!?" appear.

Ashenbough: This...is not a graphic that we made. That is, in fact, what was recorded by the camera until Rowan and his team left the casino a few minutes later.

The image futzes back in, showing a cameraperson adjusting the lens, then nodding before it's pointed at and focused back in on by Rowan, who has a Porygon on his arm.

Rowan (sotto voce): Well, seemed the little prankster back there managed to scare the hiccups out of the Porygon-Z, so they weren't too mad at us. Still, little guys are pretty camera-shy. This friendly fellow decided to let us get a good look though!

Ashenbough: You may recognize this footage from our episode on artificial Pokemon, so no need to use any more of it here. After all, our previous hiccuper was apparently cured by our ghostly interloper.

...

Ashenbough: Pokemon are mysterious creatures. Diverse in appearance, type, egg group, gender, nature, and just about every other way, there are many things about them that we'll never know.

A Falinks is shown marching along. The leader bounces with a hiccup, and then all five of its followers bounce in turn as they walk past the same spot.

Rowan: Do they actually all have the hiccups, or are they just following the Brass?

Ashenbough: Some things that bring one creature strength—

A Bellibolt is shown hiccuping, bouncing up and down as the hiccups expand and contract its body, visibly building up electricity in its stomach.

Ashenbough: —could be absolutely devastating for another.

A Primarina is seen singing on a stage before suddenly hiccing up a cluster of bubbles. They cover their mouth with their fins, hiccup again, and then dive into the fountain on stage behind them, vanishing.

Ashenbough: But even with all our differences, humans and Pokemon alike, there are some things that bring all of us together, even something as inconsequential as a hiccup.

A shot of Rowan and Ashenbough has Rowan staring expectantly at him. Ashenbough arches his eyebrows at him.

Ashenbough: No Steve, I'm not going to hiccup for you.

Rowan heaves a comically overwrought sigh, then smiles at the camera.

Rowan: Guess that's still my job then. Right! Until next time, mates! This has–HICCUP been Pok–HIC–mon Earth!

Brought to you by the GBC.

[inactive-fics]

While I know I have more followers than 50, I had been planning this since I noticed I have 50 followers last year. So, as a challange, I picked 50 words and I had to use them in any way I could. The rule was simple: write a fic using 50 random words and don't change the spelling. All 50 words are in here and all 50 words should be smaller than the rest.

The story takes place on a train on the way to a zoo with Carlisle Cullen from Twilight and my OC Lillianna Cullen.

So I did that, I used these words:

skip

devote

deprive

wrong

add

move

notion

cart

train

achievement

conservation

mention

few

legend

penalty

young

civilian

pause

hall

struggle

costume

pain

pattern

profile

novel

serious

outline

mole

constitution

exercise

damage

share

hold

broadcast

liver

mutual

grateful

active

conception

superintendent

popsickle

crouch

faith

screw

residence

write

cruel

cottage

dealer

pizza

It was the wrong train. At least, that’s what it looked like.  When Lillianna had stepped onto the train it immediately began to move. As clumsy as she was, she knew the penalty for falling would be serious. She felt a strong arm wrap around her waist, preventing her from falling. Carlisle’s hold was firm. The young-looking doctor didn’t struggle one bit to keep her from falling. Lillianna was grateful for his help. Despite this gratefulness, she looked worried. While she’s heard the legend of vampires she knows others have not and would not be as willing to not start any issues if they saw how quick Carlisle was. She looked at a civilian who was calmly eating a pizza. The words “Superintendent of the Constitution” was on their shirt. 

Carlisle and Lillianna share a smile and Carlisle says, “I meant it when I said I would devote myself to you. That doesn’t stop because we’re not alone. I’m not going to let this train floor damage that pretty face of yours. We had an outline for this trip and pain isn’t on there.” 

Lillianna can remember the conception of the outline. She had been in the hall at home with Carlisle, debating which countries spell words funny and finding that Portugal has a weird spelling for “popsickle” That conversation had gone from weird spelling in different countries to the mutual embarrassment of a man coming into the ER wanting his liver checked. Carlisle had to exercise some restraint on his facial expressions when the man had practically put on a full broadcast of why his liver had a few problems. He had to skip around his own embarrassment to the man’s crude way of putting his supposed condition. Add onto that the man had an honorable mention that the he had to deprive himself of beating his own face in a shopping cart. Carlisle had the notion that the man was mentally ill. In good faith, Lillianna suggested Carlisle needed a vacation. Being a doctor who was often busy and most needed at the small hospital, he thought it would be cruel. 

Lillianna had talked him into going on vacation, just a small one to get away from his job and have a break. The couple sits down and when Lillianna takes her phone from her pocket and opens up Instagram, she is immediately met with a profile all about moles. Liking animals, Lillianna thought it a novel idea to follow the page. Carlisle had gotten up while she was looking at her phone, and he was in a crouch by her seat. Part of the outline was to look under the train seat and write down how many pieces of gum they could find. When Carlisle picks up a screw, he frowns. 

“This is from the seat, I don’t want you sitting in this one.” 

She knew this would be the pattern to the trip. He would not stop being his regular self despite the vacation.

“Achievement unlocked, Carlisle. We’re not even at the conservation yet and you’re already active in driving me crazy.” Despite her words, Lillianna had no problem moving to a different seat but she will definitely take residence there for the entire duration of the ride. 

When the train had stopped they were at the train station where they both got into a bus. The bus looked like something a drug dealer would drive but they didn’t question it. It got them to the zoo no problem what what the bus looked like. They had to pause when they saw a man in a costume. The man looked to be some sort of animal but was so poorly made that they didn’t know what it was. 

They spent two glorious hours at the zoo and when all was finished they went to the cottage and replayed their weird day filled with 50 weird words.

[welcome-to-puppet-hell]

That being said, i think it's time i ramble about a theory that's been simmering in my head for a while. Granted, it isn't original by any means, but i get more certain of it with each update and I just need to yap about it.

Earlier, i saw someone say that the actors are bleeding through the puppets. I think that's partially true, but I want to take it a bit further. Again, this is likely NOT an original theory—take it all with a grain of salt.

I think the puppets are the actors.

The way i picture it is this:

Welcome Home is being conceptualized by Ronald Dorelaine. He likely has some puppets and other props already. He just needs an executive producer and a company that believes in him and the project. He finds all of that through Marlo.

Idk how exactly, but I think—to cut costs and to prevent actually paying people—Marlo convinces him to use ✨️other means🎩 of production. That's where the book with the eye comes in. I think it's a way to summon something that can create a whole world or other dimension—and it does! For a price.

And voice actors? I think Marlo had its agents and Dorelaine visit possible candidates—certain people that wouldn't be noticed if they disappeared from society.

Take that as you want.

They'd give the sell of a job in Hollywood, in acting, promising fame, and fortune—the typical Hollywood dream. Back in the early 1970s, i imagine that wasn't a hard sell.

So these actors each go to the Playfellow Workshop and audition. And they never come out.

Because instead of a studio and puppets, they find a vortex of the black sludge with a whirl of this white light that draws them in. And it not only takes them into the dimension holding Home, it changes them physically and mentally. Instead of flesh and bone, they become felt and fluff. Instead of memories of their old life, they just know the role they're supposed to play in the neighborhood, with vague memories of how they moved in and met already inserted in their brains. And their lives in Home are broadcast through Marlo's entity, somehow. (the Giant Eye in the Sky???)

That's why the WHRP can't find a cast and crew; the cast are all in Home, living as their characters, even now. And there never needed to be a production crew, because the broadcast was done through supernatural means.

Why did Marlo make merch? They're a company in showbiz, of course they're going to find ways to make a profit—especially with something that became so popular. So they're going to watch their "product" so to speak very carefully, to latch onto stories and other events that they can turn into storybooks or records. (Or the entity in charge gives it to them)

What happened to Dorelaine? Genuinely, no idea. I imagine he remained heavily involved tho.

What does this mean for Wally Darling and Home? I think they were the first residents of Home (or the dimension). Either they're made from someone like everyone else—a voice actor or a handler—or they are the only residents that are genuine puppets brought to life. As in, their sentience and their soul didn't come from another source (like a human being), it was something that was created through the entity running this world they live in.

I have no evidence for either. But I do think Wally's story is much like Pinocchio, in a way. The only difference is that he isn't trying to be real, he wants us ("You") to acknowledge him as real. He's trying to build genuine connections with us and he wants to learn how he could, especially now, when he has an audience again. He likely believes that we get him, that we understand him in a way that his regular neighbors, even Barnaby sometimes, can't.

Why did the show get canceled in the 1974? I think that—like everyone who is caught up in hubris and the supernatural, as well as corporate greed—either Marlo or Dorelaine realized that they made a mistake in contacting this entity. And they realized it when they began seeing that black, moldy substance, and seeing how it affected not only them but also their consumers.

Now, why are things falling apart now? I have some ideas, but at the moment, I'm finding it hard to organize them in a way that makes sense. But I think it's clear to all of us that a breakdown is (or has been?) happening. And what's happening with Julie, with her shifting from her regular puppet!voice to her humanish!(?)voice is further proof of that.

I'm going to look at the website again today and actually take notes. maybe next time I'll have ideas that actually make sense.

Either way, I'm so excited to see Welcome Home again. Clown and everyone involved continue to do an amazing job.

OOC: SPOILERS FOR THE UPDATE

...

So, APPARENTLY, the puppets curse. They can curse.

Which means everything i wrote abt Barnaby is actually possible lmao

[jon-mcbrine-author]

The question is less “do you have a podcast?” but instead, “what’s your podcast about?” - meaning, it’s not unreasonable to assume anyone you meet already hosts or is featured on a podcast. I’m no different in that I have my regular rotation of podcasts I listen to and watch. I have also hosted/co-hosted audio shows before - so, despite it being the norm, is it worth all the added effort to contribute yet another new series to the ever-expanding pod-verse?

The simple answer is the same for most creative pursuits, and that is, sure, if you want to. If it is something you enjoy (within reason), then there’s no reason to not pod it up. If you are like me and dallied in podcasting, even if as a mere hobby, you’d be well aware of the time-suck that accompanies making one or more of these programs. It is more of a commitment than one may expect - recording, editing, obtaining music, distribution, designing and/or acquiring images and graphics, as well as maintaining a website along with a social media presence. Pile that onto an already busy work/personal life, and the price of recording equipment starts to look higher and higher. And then there is the constant anxiety of booking guests if you showcase any.

Managing a podcast can be a daunting endeavor even if it is purely a recreational hobby, but whether it’s buddies getting together around a set of microphones or more “serious” series, it can all be a blast. I learned to enjoy the process of producing a podcast back in my “broadcasting” days, which is important because focusing solely on the outcome and growth will drive you nuts. Starting from what is essentially zero means there will be no guarantees, an extremely unlikely quick reward, and a lot of hours feeling like you are one of the many shouting into the void. Podcasting is a lot like writing in that regard - it’s a lengthy process that all too often provides more misses than hits. And as an author, you want readers (well, the majority of authors do), just as a podcast show seeks listeners/viewers. Seeing your metrics move at a the same pace as a geologic age can be discouraging. What do you do when it stops being fun?

As is the case with so many other creative outlets, patience is a virtue. If my readership is stalling, my sales resemble a goose’s egg, and my social media following is more akin to a really secret society, then I have to ask myself what haven’t I tried? Am I working hard enough? How am I making moves to create opportunities? Who is my audience anyway? One thing I have not done in my “career” as a writer is hosting an author-themed podcast. Not that it would necessarily be centered around writing, but I wouldn’t want to stray too far. After all, once you have a better idea of who would actually read your work, then it’s easier to determine who would listen to you.

At the end of the day, podcasting is fun, and nowadays it’s even easier to produce one. I do plan on developing a podcast and, yes, one of the primary motivators for me is to hopefully direct listeners to my book(s) as a way to drive sales. That being said, if I end up having a burning desire to drift from talking about fiction and instead launch a podcast discussing competitive chainsaw juggling, then, well, the heart wants what the best wants.

Stay in the loop for more details by following Jonfcition Blog on Substack and be sure to check out jonmcbrine.com for more info about this and all my books.

Unsecret Identity: Eric Icarus - Book One is available now from the Amazon Kindle store.

https://a.co/2XAtxvH

jonmcbrine.com

[xtruss]

Pakistan Election: Latest Updates On Imran Khan and PTI’s Surge And Why the U.S. State Department Is Now In A Difficult Position On Pakistan.

— Ryan Grim | February 11, 2024 | The Intercept

Ryan Grim is an American author and journalist. Grim was Washington, D.C. bureau chief for HuffPost and is the Washington, D.C. bureau chief for The Intercept. He is also a political commentator for Breaking Points and appears frequently on The Majority Report with Sam Seder. His writings have appeared in several publications, including Rolling Stone, The Washington Post, and Politico. He is the author of This Is Your Country on Drugs, We've Got People, and The Squad. He cofounded Strong Arm Press, an independent progressive publishing house. Grim and The Federalist editor Emily Jashinsky were the regular Friday hosts of Rising. They resigned in September 2022 and joined Breaking Points, where they host Counterpoints on Wednesdays

When Covering The politics of foreign countries, it’s hard for me not to transpose what’s going on there back onto the United States and try to see it from that perspective. That’s made easier in Pakistan since we have roughly similar population sizes and much of Pakistani politics plays out in spectacle on Twitter and Facebook. That much of it is in English helps too (as does the “translate” button).

Yet what Pakistani voters managed to pull off over the past few days strains my imagination to its breaking point. I just can’t picture us doing it.

Consider this: The leading opposition party, the populist PTI, led by legendary cricket star Imran Khan, was officially banned from the ballots by the courts. Its candidates were forced to run as independents instead. The candidates were prohibited from using the PTI’s party symbol – a cricket bat – on the ballot, a crucial marker in a country where some 40 percent of the population can’t read. Khan himself was jailed on bogus charges and ruled ineligible to run. Candidates who did file to run were abducted and tortured and pressured to withdraw. So were the new ones who then replaced them. Virtually the entire party leadership was imprisoned or exiled. Rallies were attacked and bombed; rank and file workers jailed and disappeared. Campaigning was basically impossible as candidates had to go into hiding.

On election day Thursday, polling locations were randomly changed and the internet and cell service was taken down. Western media described the race as over, a fait accompli for the military’s preferred candidate Nawaz Sharif. And yet.

And yet. Pakistani voters came out in such historic numbers that it caught the military off guard. The ISI — Pakistan’s powerful intelligence agency — was prepared to steal a close election or nudge Sharif to his inevitable victory, but they were swamped by the tsunami they didn’t see coming. In a crucial mistake, they had allowed individual polling locations to release official vote tallies, which parties and TV broadcasters could then total up themselves.

According to those broadcasts, watched by millions of people, PTI (or “independent”) candidates had won 137 seats by official counts, well on their way to a majority (there are 342 seats in the National Assembly; 266 are filled by direct elections). There were another 24 seatsOpens in a new tab where 90 percent of the vote was counted and PTI was ahead. It was a clear landslide.

Then the military moved in, shutting down the election commission website and halting the count. Military and police forces surged into polling locations. Fantastical numbers began to be announced, sometimes just reversing the totals so the winner became the loser. The military was clearly unprepared to steal such a resounding victory, and the obviousness of the fraud forced politicians in the UK and U.S., including even the State Department, to denounce it.

All of this puts the State Department in a difficult position. It’s widely known the U.S. is no fan of Imran Khan. The U.S. prefers to work directly with the Pakistan military as a check against China. Khan has long said he wants a better relationship with the U.S., yet we refuse to believe him – our preferred approach was to oust him, put in more pliant clients, and shrug as the military dismantled democracy in the runup to the election. (The U.S. denied playing a role in ousting him, but we very much did, as The Intercept reported.)

That approach has now failed. The military-backed client proved unable to run their own country, losing all faith from the Pakistani people. The establishment in Pakistan may still be able to form a coalition government through fraud and abuse, but that doesn’t mean they’ll come out on top. The Pakistani people showed they can’t be held back anymore. When their will finally translates into real power is only a matter of time. The U.S. can delay it, but can’t stop it.

At this point, the State Department’s choice is either to respect the will of the Pakistani public and find a way to work with Khan, or discard all the talk about democracy and usher in a full military dictatorship, one without the pretense of even a civilian hybrid. It’s not clear which route we’ll take, but the pressure from Congress and the fairly strong statement from the State Department suggests the generals may be losing favor in Washington.

On Thursday afternoon at the State Department, I told spokesperson Vedant Patel Opens in a new tabthat the military’s clear strategy after the election was to abduct, torture, and bribe the independent candidates into switching parties. If PTI candidates won the election, I asked, but were coerced into changing parties, would the U.S. recognize such a government? My mistake was asking a hypothetical, even an easily foreseeable one, because spokespeople are good at ignoring such questions. Patel called it a “made up” scenario and wouldn’t commit either way.

One winning candidate, Waseem Qadir, has already flippedOpens in a new tab. Elected to the national assembly as a PTI-affiliated independent, he claims he was abducted and is now supporting Nawaz Sharif’s party. Skeptics believe he was actually bribed, not tortured, and there protests outside his home – but either way, neither scenario is remotely democratic. The scenario is no longer made up, it’s real, and the State Department has some decisions to make.

I wrote in more detail about all of this on Friday and talked about it with my colleague Murtaza Hussain and Pakistani journalist Waqas Ahmed on Breaking PointsOpens in a new tab.

Anyway, can you imagine American voters overcoming those sorts of obstacles to get to the polls? I want to leave you with the opening anecdote from my story Friday, one of the most inspiring (and infuriating stories I’ve ever come across in politics):

Pakistan, a bystander happened to catch, on camera, police raiding the Sialkot home of Usman Dar. At the time, Dar was an opposition candidate representing former Prime Minister Imran Khan’s Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf, or PTI, party — which the military and its civilian allies were busy suppressing with abductions, raids, blackmail, and threats. Khan, a populist prime minister, was forced from office in 2022 under military pressure with the encouragement of the U.S.

Through a window, video shows Pakistani police officials assaulting Dar’s elderly mother, Rehana Dar, in her bedroom. Dar’s brother, Umar Dar, was also picked up, though police only acknowledged he’d been arrested much later at a court hearing. When Usman Dar emerged from custody, he announced he was stepping down from the race and leaving the party — as many other PTI candidates have done under similar pressure.

But then came a new wrinkle, a symbol of the refusal of Khan’s supporters to bow to the military-backed government. While the news was announced that Dar was withdrawing from the race, and with another son still missing, his mother went on television to say that she would be running instead. “Khawaja Asif,” Rehana Dar said in a video posted on social media directed to the army-backed political rival of her son, “You have achieved what you wanted by making my son step down at gunpoint, but my son has quit politics, not me. Now you will face me in politics.”

She was a political novice, an angry mother who represented the country’s frustration with its ruling elite. “Send me to jail or handcuff me. I will contest the general elections for sure,” she said while filing her nomination papers. Those papers were initially rejected — like they were for so many PTI candidates, and only PTI candidates — and she had to refile.

Nevertheless, she persisted. On Thursday night, election night, with her son Umar still in custody, she shocked the country. With 99 percent of precincts counted, she had beaten that lifetime politician, Khawaja Asif, with 131,615 to 82,615 votes. The loss by Asif, who was allied with Nawaz Sharif — the military-backed candidate whose victory Vox had called “almost a fait accompli” — was a blow to the army.

Then came one more wrinkle — one that many in Pakistan expected, but which was still shocking. When the full results were announced, Dar’s total had been reduced by 31,434 votes, while Asif gained votes, and he was declared the winner.

Across the country, similar reversals are flowing out from Pakistan’s election commission. As polling ended Thursday evening, early results shocked the establishment and even some dispirited supporters of Khan who had worried that Pakistani authorities had successfully done everything they could to manipulate the outcome. Those results suggested a landslide victory for ousted former Prime Minister Imran Khan’s party even as Khan himself sits in prison, ineligible to run.

But in several key races, results have suddenly swung toward the military-backed party, after hours of unexplained delays. In the NA-128 constituency, where the PTI-backed candidate is senior lawyer Salman Akram Raja, Raja was leading with 100,000 votes in 1,310 out of 1,320 polling stations. On Friday, he was trailing by 13,522 votes. But the publicly available totals from the polling stations did not add up with the results announced by the election commission. He took the case to high court, which granted him a stay and stopped the election commission from announcing the winner pending further investigation. Following his lead, multiple PTI candidates have announced that they will take their cases to court. Rehana Dar is one of them.

Historic Turnout In Pakistan Is Swamping The Military’s Effort To Rig The Election! In a Turbulent 24 Hours Following Pakistan’s Elections, The U.S.-Backed Corrupt To Their Cores $$$ Military Has Proved Unable to Suppress the Populist Movement Interrogating Its Authority.

— Ryan Grim | February 9 2024

Officials count ballots at a polling station in Lahore, Pakistan, on Feb. 8, 2024. Photo: Betsy Joles/Bloomberg via Getty Images

Last Year In Pakistan, a bystander happened to catch, on camera, police raiding the Sialkot home of Usman Dar. At the time, Dar was an opposition candidate representing former Prime Minister Imran Khan’s Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf, or PTI, party — which the military and its civilian allies were busy suppressing with abductions, raids, blackmail, and threats. Khan, a populist prime minister, was forced from office in 2022 under military pressure with the encouragement of the U.S.

Through a window, video shows Pakistani police officialsOpens in a new tab assaulting Dar’s elderly mother, Rehana Dar, in her bedroom. Dar’s brother, Umar Dar, was also picked up, though police only acknowledged he’d been arrested much later at a court hearing. When Usman Dar emerged from custody, he announced he was stepping down from the race and leaving the party — as many other PTI candidates have done under similar pressure.

But then came a new wrinkle, a symbol of the refusal of Khan’s supporters to bow to the military-backed government. While the news was announced that Dar was withdrawing from the race, and with another son still missing, his mother went on television to say that she would be running instead. “Khawaja Asif,” Rehana Dar said in a video posted on social mediaOpens in a new tab directed to the army-backed political rival of her son, “You have achieved what you wanted by making my son step down at gunpoint, but my son has quit politics, not me. Now you will face me in politics.”

She was a political novice, an angry mother who represented the country’s frustration with its ruling elite. “Send me to jail or handcuff me. I will contest the general elections for sure,” she said while filing her nomination papers. Those papers were initially rejected — like they were for so many PTI candidates, and only PTI candidates — and she had to refile.

Nevertheless, she persisted. On Thursday night, election night, with her son Umar still in custody, she shocked the country. With 99 percent of precincts counted, she had beaten that lifetime politician, Khawaja Asif, with 131,615 to 82,615 votes. The loss by Asif, who was allied with Nawaz Sharif — the military-backed candidate whose victory Vox had called “almost a fait accompliOpens in a new tab” — was a blow to the army.

Then came one more wrinkle — one that many in Pakistan expected, but which was still shocking. When the full results were announced, Dar’s total had been reduced by 31,434 votes, while Asif gained votes, and he was declared the winner.

Across the country, similar reversals Opens in a new tabare flowing out from Pakistan’s election commission. As polling ended Thursday evening, early results shocked the establishment and even some dispirited supporters of Khan who had worried that Pakistani authorities had successfully done everything they could to manipulate the outcome. Those results suggested a landslide victory for ousted former Prime Minister Imran Khan’s party even as Khan himself sits in prison, ineligible to run.

But in several key races, results have suddenly swung toward the military-backed party, after hours of unexplained delays. In the NA-128 constituency, where the PTI-backed candidate is senior lawyer Salman Akram Raja, Raja was leading with 100,000 votes in 1,310 out of 1,320 polling stations. On Friday, he was trailing by 13,522 votes. But the publicly available totals from the polling stations did not add up with the results announced by the election commission. He took the case to high court, which granted him a stay Opens in a new taband stopped the election commission from announcing the winner pending further investigation. Following his lead, multiple PTI candidates have announced that they will take their cases to court. Rehana Dar is one of them.

The problem now for the Pakistani army is that it seems to have been unprepared for the explosion of support for Khan’s candidates. Pakistani election laws explicitly state that the “returning officer shall compile provisional results on or before 2 a.m. the day immediately following the polling day.” But for thousands of polling stations across Pakistan, results were stopped and had not come in even 24 hours after polling ended. Across the country, candidates and their supporters have refused to leave pollingOpens in a new tab locations without official documentation of the vote, leading to tense and violent confrontations.

At the same time, because every polling station is required to fill out and distribute something called a “Form 45,” which has the vote tally from that precinct, political parties and news networks had been able to tabulate official results. That’s how we know that Dar was so far ahead. Those Form 45s are officially aggregated at election headquarters, and a Form 47 is produced totaling all the numbers. Prior to the election, the military succeeded in replacing the election workers with state bureaucrats — a move that was blessed by the country’s Supreme Court only after two dissident justices were forced off the bench. Those workers and their fantastical Form 47s are now the focus of the country’s attention.

The changes in the official counts also finally caught the attention of the State Department, which had secretly supported the nation’s military in its ouster of Khan in 2022. “We join credible international and local election observers in their assessment that these elections included undue restrictions on freedoms of expression, association, and peaceful assembly,” spokesperson Matthew Miller said. “We condemn electoral violence, restrictions on the exercise of human rights and fundamental freedoms, including attacks on media workers, and restrictions on access to the Internet and telecommunication services, and are concerned about allegations of interference in the electoral process. Claims of interference or fraud should be fully investigated.”

But it was the next line of Miller’s statement that gives Khan’s supporters hope that the theft of the election may not be inevitable. “The United States is prepared to work with the next Pakistani government, regardless of political party, to advance our shared interests,” Miller said. “We now look forward to timely, complete results that reflect the will of the Pakistani people.” Members of Congress have begun demanding the U.S. not recognize a new government Opens in a new tabwithout a thorough investigation of the fraud. Whether that clear mandate is listened to remains an open question.

Prior to the election, many observers had raised the alarm about potential fraud in the Pakistani elections. Human rights organizations such as Amnesty International voiced concerns over the possibility of internet shutdown on election day. Those concerns turned out to be warranted; the Pakistani military did indeed shut down internetOpens in a new tab and mobile data for most of the day. When internet returned early on Friday in Pakistan, independent candidates across Pakistan seemed to have a clear majority in Parliament with 127 seats. Trailing far behind were the Pakistan Muslim League, or PMLN, headed by the former prime minister and military backed-candidate, Sharif; and Bilawal Bhutto Zardari’s Pakistan People’s Party, with 65 and 48 seats respectively.

The independent candidates are mostly members of PTI who were forced to run as independent in a court decision that was called “a huge blow to fundamental rightsOpens in a new tab” in Pakistan. The move also deprived PTI of its electoral symbol — the cricket bat — and had the candidates run on randomly assigned symbols.

“PTI backed independents at this moment in the lead in NA, KPK & Punjab assemblies. This is unprecedented,” tweetedOpens in a new tab Mohammad Zubair, a former minister and member of the PMLN. “The unusual delay in the result announcement has made the process completely dubious leaving no moral authority for PMLN to rule.”

On Friday, Sharif absurdly declared victory. From prison, so did Khan, with artificial intelligence being used to simulate his voice reading a statement. “By voting yesterday, you have set up the foundation for true freedom,” the “authorized AI voice” of Khan said, making reference to the “movement for true freedom” he has led since his ouster. “I had complete faith that you would go out to vote. Your massive turnout shocked everyone.”

[and-but-so]

Deflated

The day began as any morning before an exam: with anxiety, feelings of unpreparedness. I sloshed some cereal into my mouth while gulping iced coffee and frantically scrolling my notes for chance nuggets of information. As prepared as I might ever feel, I slid into the car and drove out on 76 towards the suburban Jefferson campus to sit for an exam that would be immediately followed by a day-long intensive. My body tightened up as GPS took me winding down Lincoln drive, a narrow parkway with a 25 mph speed limit that sees an average of 40 mph. I managed clueless mergers, reckless speeders, and regular pedestrians walking the sidewalks of Mount Airy with their dogs. At last, I turned onto Stenton Ave escaping the dangers of the parkway when I noticed a flapping sound. Unsure if it was the souped-up Dodge Charger in the lane to my left with a loud muffler, I went another block or so. I pulled onto Willow Grove Avenue on the next turn, still in denial about the possibilities and stopped to check out my fender which, perhaps was just flapping the wind. The fender and front tire appeared normal. Then I glanced back and saw my left rear wheelrim and flaccid tire tread in touch with the ground. I groaned audibly, got in the car and looked at the GPS: 8.2 miles of suburban road to reach my destination. Test start time 9:35, current time 8:44. I could never make it on the flat. Even the sound of driving a short distance had me reeling. I pulled over in a panic on the next block, a quiet, tree-lined paradise, aptly named Pleasant Street. 

After a few seconds of figuring I remembered how, in undergrad, I was heading to a suburban clinical site with a classmate when she got a flat tire on the same stretch of road where mine probably occurred. We ended up getting a tow to a nearby auto shop where we sat and waited for a flat fix while our instructor threatened that we would have to make up the whole clinical day if we didn’t show up soon to feed the retirement village residents their rice pudding.

I looked up a Lyft and decided to book the most expensive option, a rapidly arriving $33 ride to Jefferson’s Dixon campus. I cursed, let the appropriate people know my status, and stood on the humid summer roadside with my bag awaiting my chariot. Nestor pulled up minutes later in a black Toyota. 

I got in and sighed audibly, 

“Thanks a lot for picking me up, I have a test this morning and I just got a flat tire.” ”Wow, that’s something. You know, everything happens for a reason.”

I pondered that as I sat in the car listening to the morning broadcast on 106.7 K-Love, a Christian devotional radio station. I gazed around the car, seeing his phone slanted in a horizontal orientation providing GPS instructions that read sideways. On the inside of his windshield was a decal, mostly worn off that said “B- Str--- Coura--”

At one forking intersection, Nestor asked me almost rhetorically which road he was supposed to veer right onto. I shrugged as if as the passenger I was supposed to know. We got to the nursing school satellite campus with time to spare and I thanked him again. He wished me good luck. At 4:15pm, after the dizziness and claustrophobia of my sardine-packed intensive school day settled, I got back to the car with assistance from my classmate Madeline, making panicked moves to contact State Farm the whole way there. They were not responding and their online form led me continuously into a digital brick wall. “Policy number not found”, “VIN not on file”.

I got there with the intention of just doing it myself at this point. I unloaded the hatchback full of useless junk jammed in a milkcrate to uncover the spare tire and found the only real gift of the day: my missing pair of vice grips that I had all but given up on finding. One good thing from all of this.

I gratefully used the vice grips to forcefully yank a 4cm triangle of jagged, pointed metal out of the tire’s tread.

Next, I removed the lugs and jacked up the vehicle, but when I went to unseat the wheel, it wouldn’t budge. I yanked, I pried, I lubricated the hub with motor oil, leaned on it, spun it, kicked it. I dripped sweat onto my shorts, my shoes, my eyes as I awkwardly tried to land a blow with my foot that would make the wheel move. I pried with the tire iron and at last, it came free. I sat on the curb for a second before thrusting the spare into place and tightening it down. I lowered the jack and sank into the driver’s seat, enjoying the one sip of water that remained in my bottle.

I remembered all the while that yesterday I opted to take an offered escape pod home from my scheduled 12-hour clinical shift. With that graciously given time I studied, I breathed, and I enjoyed a short respite at Mike Vee’s Name-That-Tune quizzo to top it off. I’m left seeing the many squandered opportunities and blaming myself. 

After I change my tire, on my way back down Cresheim Valley Drive, towards home, I saw on the shoulder a miserable-looking, sweaty family sitting on the roof of their car, its front left tire obviously flat. I breathed out. Not 200 feet later, another car was on the shoulder with a flat, and within sight, a third vehicle disabled with the same. “Everything happens for a reason”, I thought.

[fdelopera]

LMAO! What a bunch of dunces. Jew-hate really does make you stupid!

Regular reminder that the Jews in Eretz Yisrael were the ones called "Palestinians". "Syria-Palaestina" was the Greco-Roman colonizer term that the Roman Empire had imposed onto the Jewish homeland in the 2nd Century CE. This renaming of Judea was part of the Romans' campaign to ethnically cleanse the Jews following the Bar Kokhba Revolt in 135 CE. The name "Palestine" and "Palestinian" continued to be associated with Jews in Eretz Yisrael until modern times, including the period of the British Mandate.

Individually, the Arabs did not typically call themselves "Palestinians". They referred to themselves as Arabs. They would specify their religion (Muslim, Christian, Druze, etc.), they would specify which family or clan they were part of (such as the Husseinis or the Nashashibis), and they would specify which city they lived in. They did not commonly refer to Eretz Yisrael as "Palestine". It was more common for them to refer to the land as سوريا الجنوبية -- Surya al-Janubiyya (Southern Syria).

Yasser Arafat, an Egyptian who was born in Cairo, created the concept of a "Palestinian" national identity in the 1960s. Arafat got support from the Soviet Union, which sought ways to undermine and attack Israel after Israel began to align itself more with the United States.

As PLO leader Zuheir Mohsen (1936 – 25 July 1979) stated in 1977 in an interview with the Dutch newspaper, Trouw (Truth):

The Palestinian people do not exist. The creation of a Palestinian state is only a means for continuing our struggle against the state of Israel for our Arab unity. In reality today there is no difference between Jordanians, Palestinians, Syrians and Lebanese. Only for political and tactical reasons do we speak today about the existence of a Palestinian people, since Arab national interests demand that we posit the existence of a distinct 'Palestinian people' to oppose Zionism. Yes, the existence of a separate Palestinian identity exists only for tactical reasons, Jordan, which is a sovereign state with defined borders, cannot raise claims to Haifa and Jaffa, while as a Palestinian, I can undoubtedly demand Haifa, Jaffa, Beer-Sheva and Jerusalem. However, the moment we reclaim our right to all of Palestine, we will not wait even a minute to unite Palestine and Jordan.

And more recently in 2017, Arab historian Abd Al-Ghani Salameh stated on an official Palestinian Authority TV broadcast:

Before the Balfour Promise (i.e., Declaration) when the Ottoman rule ended (1517-1917), Palestine's political borders as we know them today did not exist, and there was nothing called a Palestinian people with a political identity as we know today, since Palestine's lines of administrative division stretched from east to west and included Jordan and southern Lebanon, and like all peoples of the region [the Palestinians] were liberated from the Turkish rule and immediately moved to colonial rule, without forming a Palestinian people's political identity.

Okay, this is funny.

That's Moshe Rubin.

To be clear- the person in this photo is the young engineer Moshe Rubin (a very Jewish palestina resident), transmitting the special broadcast during the opening of the Palestina Broadcasting Service in Ramallah, March 30 - British radio station that was established during the British mandate regime here as “palestina”. Funny enough the Jews were the ones to initiate it, create it and operate it but It was broadcasting in the 3 formal languages here back then (Hebrew, Arabic and English). The most interesting part is that since 1948 the Arabic broadcasting and infrastructure in Ramallah was transferred to… Jordan - the new state of the Arabs that were in British Palestina… They gave no idea what the word Palestina means and where it came from and how it’s stolen so they use this BS deception on the ignorant masses.

[makethatelevenrings]

Actions, Not Words // B. Wayne x f!reader

Requested? yes!

WARNINGS: swearing

Summary: It started with a simple question. It ended with a discussion. Could be read as a sequel to guy.exe 

It started with a simple question.

“If you could choose anywhere in the world to visit, where would you go?” Your boyfriend’s oldest child spun around in the chair next to yours. You let out a noncommittal hum, barely processing his question in favor of focusing on the live camera footage broadcasting from the various vigilantes operating on the streets of Gotham right now.

“Is this the part where J’onn comes down, wipes my memories, and Bruce relocates me to the Bermuda Triangle?” You were doing three things at once and didn’t really have the headspace to think about anything other than overhearing the comms conversations between Oracle and the boots on the ground, scanning the streets for anything that the team would need, and sticking gold stars onto the geography tests your kids took yesterday.

“Bold of you to assume he wouldn’t send you to the Arctic Circle,” Dick commented dryly. He made grabby hands for the papers in front of you and you passed half of the stack over and a few sheets of stickers. Nightwing was currently benched thanks to a nasty break so Batgirl and Black Bat were patrolling Bludhaven for the night.

“I would just move into the Fortress of Solitude.”

“Honestly, I think B would hate that more than sending you away.” The both of you looked up at the screens as Red Robin and Red Hood engaged in a fight with a few low level mob enforcers. Shots echoed through the cave speakers and you winced, your fingers curling tightly around the edge of the desk as you watched the boys take down the men with an ease and efficiency that two teenagers shouldn’t possess.

“They’ll be fine,” Dick said. His voice was light, but he was betrayed by the tension in his wrist as he jabbed another sticker onto the test in front of him. Every single bat and bird hated being benched, but for Dick it was especially hard. He was the oldest and watching his little siblings getting shot at, smacked around, and having a litany of toxic chemicals thrown at them on the regular added to the mountain of stress on his shoulders.

The fight appeared to end and you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned forward towards the mic and pressed the “on” button.

“Reds, report.”

“Applebee’s and I are just fine. Tell N to stop being such a mother hen and get his escrima stick out of his ass.” Jason’s modulated voice was clear of any sign of pain and you relaxed.

“Aw, Jaybird, if you cared about my nerves then you wouldn’t get on them so fuc-” Dick started to say.

“Names,” Bruce interjected over the comms just as you called out a reminder of, “Language!”

“And no, Hood, N wasn’t the one worrying. Now, pay attention. Cave, over and out.”

You turned off the mic and leaned back into the chair with a sigh. You wished you had taken Alfred up on his offer to take over your monitor shift that night. There were two weeks left of the school year and you were exhausted. That, and the fact that Dick was injured right after Damian was removed from the injured reserve now that his broken wrist was fully healed.

You had been dating Bruce Wayne for a year and while you never regretted falling for Gotham’s resident vigilante and subsequently adopting his family, it was getting harder watching them come home with bruises and sprains and bloody cuts. You loved Bruce and you loved his kids, but you didn’t know how much longer you could just sit here and watch them get the shit beat out of them.

It was hard enough hearing disparaging comments about Bruce when you were out and about in the city, but hearing people complain about Batman when you knew for a fact that he had crawled into bed the night before with a stab wound in his shoulder made you wish you had Kryptonian powers so your glares left a lasting effect.

“Hey,” Dick said quietly. You refused to look at him, knowing that his damn puppy dog eyes would destroy the careful facade you had applied. If you were going to be part of a family that wore masks, then you needed to learn to wear your own.

“You better not be adding double stickers to those tests,” you warned. “You spoil those kids.”

You knew that the kind-hearted acrobat was considering his next words before he decided against what he was originally going to say.

“You never answered my question.”

Your temples were throbbing with an oncoming headache thanks to late nights, end-of-year student tantrums, and your annoyance with the Gotham criminal underworld. Leaning back in the chair, you grabbed the bottle of painkillers Tim kept by the coffee maker and downed two.

“I want to see the world’s largest teapot,” you deadpanned.

Four weeks and a six hour car ride later, you stared up at the supposed world’s largest teapot with a blank face. Bruce leaned against the car next to you, looking ever so comfortable in jeans and a maroon sweater. Outside of the suits, both business and vigilante, Bruce always looked more relaxed. Right now, however, he looked like a smug fucking bastard.

“I thought it would be bigger,” you admitted.

“Fourteen feet by fourteen feet in diameter,” he said. “Brought here in 1938. Originally a root beer sign.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and thought about good things. Happy things. Alfred’s cooking. How comfy Bruce’s bed was at the manor. The way Cass smiled when you braided her hair. The fact that Damian chose to sit next to you during movie night, even if Dick shot him a betrayed look and pouted until Jason let him cling to his arm.

“We drove six hours to see this,” you stated calmly. He shrugged and turned his head so he could grin at you. It wasn’t that fake society smile you saw plenty of or the small smirks the kids elicited when they did something royally stupid. It was a genuine, crooked grin and you couldn’t stop the warmth that unfurled in your chest at the sight.

“Dick was pretty insistent that I take you here,” he replied. His blue eyes sparkled with just a hint of amusement and you narrowed your gaze in response.

“I knew I should have said the Maldives.”

Bruce let out a low chuckle, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you into his side. You turned your focus back on the roadside attraction and pressed your cheek against his shoulder. He hummed and dropped a kiss to your hairline before rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Do we need to start heading back soon so you can get ready for patrol?” you asked, checking his watch.

“I rented us a little cabin about thirty minutes outside Pittsburgh. We’ll drive back tomorrow. Dick is taking up the suit tonight. Just for tonight. Alfred and Barbara will both keep us updated through the night and I know they will make sure everyone gets home safe. I…I trust them.”

You raised your head to study his handsome face, one of your hands coming up to rest on his chest. He had that faraway look to him that signaled he was deep in thought and you knew where his head was at.

“They’ll be fine. You’ve been away on League missions longer than that,” you reminded him. He glanced down at you and nodded. His calloused knuckles brushed against your cheek.

“The kids saw that you were getting overwhelmed with things and I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

“You’re focused. Dedicated. I know, Bruce. I wouldn’t date you if I didn’t understand.”

He pressed his forehead against yours and sighed. “You shouldn’t have to put up with me. You should be with someone who can give you the attention you deserve.”

“Pretty sure I’m the one who gets to decide that. I love you, Bruce. I love you and the kids and Alfred. I love the way your hair sticks up in the morning and how you still can barely tie a tie. I love how compassionate you are, both in your day job and night job. I love how much you care. And most of all, I love how you love. Not with words, but in actions. I mean, what other guy is going to take me to see the world’s largest teapot?”

That made a smile break his stoic facade and you grinned. He bent down and kissed you, slow and sweet and every bit tender. His lips were soft and pliant and you could taste your own strawberry chapstick on him. Thieving bastard, you thought with no malice behind it.

When you broke apart, breathless and grinning like foolish lovesick teenagers, you brushed your nose against his and chased after his lips. He kissed you again, his steady form pressing you against the car. One of his thighs slid between your legs and you moaned against his touch.

“How far away is this cabin? Because I am not desecrating the grounds of the world's largest teapot,” you panted as he bit and sucked a hickey on your collarbone. Bruce pulled away in an instant and rounded around the car and headed towards the driver’s seat.

By the time you returned to the manor with sore hips and more than a few hickeys all over your body, you knew that you were right. Bruce was a man of action not words, and he loved you.

[citrineghost]

Struggling to stay organized because you have ADHD?

Well, I have a fantastic solution for you! There’s this bitchin site called Trello and I’m gonna tell you all about it

This is not sponsored, I just really like organization and Trello is awesome. And, as always, no readmore because this is targeted at ADHD people and y’all ain’t gonna click it

[ID: a picture of a website with many columns/lists. Behind the lists, there is a customized background. To the right is a sidebar showing that you can search Unsplash for backgrounds right from the site. Each column/list has a bunch of ‘cards’ on it. The cards each have a title and color coded label(s) /end ID)

Here’s a picture of my to-do board

There are some things blacked out, mostly just my avatar, name, and some original creative stuff I don’t feel like broadcasting.

So, Trello is broken up into different levels of organization. Let’s start with the most important level: boards.

Boards

A board is what’s pictured above. Think of it like a corkboard where you pin your notes. You can make as many of these as you want. You can title them, invite people to them, automate certain parts of them, and more.

On your board, you can make

Lists

Lists are those columns you can see on my board. You can title each list, click and drag them around to reorder them, set them to automatically label the things on them, and so on.

My lists on my to do board are titled with a time period for when I aim to do something. The time periods are large and vague, which makes them great for my ADHD. I can move things between them as I need, which is also great for my ever shifting brain thoughts. 

But! What makes it great is that whatever I put in the left list, titled Next, I know is what I need to be focusing on at the moment. It makes it easier to ignore what’s to the right of it and let’s me relax knowing I won’t just forget everything I’m not prioritizing.

Lists are used for holding

Cards

(ID: A picture of a small window that opens after clicking on a card. It contains the title, the labels (with their names now visible), and a functioning checklist. There is also a place to type a description, a place to add comments, and a list of buttons on the side for managing the card and its place on the board /end ID)

Each card can be as simple as containing just a title (making it a simple entry on your list), or as complicated as housing photos, descriptions, checklists, labels, and comments. You just click the card and it opens the window shown above.

My card is for a tabletop I’m working on, nicknamed TAP. I have it labeled with all of the things pertaining to what it involves (world building, writing, in progress, spreadsheeting, and art/creative). These color coded labels make it easy to see what kind of cards I’m looking at when looking at the overall board and lists.

As I do things on the checklist, I can mark them off. You can even set it to hide completed items on the checklist.

When I’m done with an item on my to do list, I click and drag the card to the Done list (which is offscreen on the far right). If you don’t want a visible Done list, you can also just archive a card and it will disappear from the board.

You can also set due dates on cards, which will notify you when they’re almost due or when the due date arrives.

Customization

One of my favorite things about Trello is that you can customize the appearance of your boards! My ADHD brain can’t stand looking at the same thing constantly, so it’s great that I can change things up. Each board can have its own design too, so you can match the vibes of the board with the appearance.

You can pick from a bunch of solid colors for your board or you can use the connection Trello has with Unsplash to search and select free stock images provided by photographers.

Other Parts of Organization

Not only do you have boards, lists, and cards, you can also make Workspaces, which are basically categories to sort your boards into. If you use Trello for projects, and have a board for each project, you can sort your boards into a Projects workspace.

There is also a function called Butler, which you can use to automate boards. For example, you can set it to automatically create a card called “Pay Rent” at the start of each month.

On the right, in the same sidebar where you can see the background options, there’s also an activity feed, tracking every time a card is moved, commented on, added, archived, and so on.

Team Work

Not only is Trello great for keeping private boards, you can also invite people to them! That makes it incredible for household management, group projects, or even friend groups who feel like storing plans and personalized memes. You can literally use it for whatever you want and in whatever way you want!

ADHD Applications

So, now let’s get down into the specifics of how this is great for people with ADHD.

You can make as many boards, lists, and cards as you want.

This is a big one for me, because I really struggle with websites that limit how much you can do with one account and force you to make multiples and then juggle multiple logins and so on. Start a new project? Make a new board. Follow your heart. Be free. If you end up giving up on it, just delete it, or store it for later. You can Star the boards you actively use and just use the Star list to access the boards you need, so if you star all your active ones and then ignore the unstarred, failed projects, you can leave them to rot or abandon them until the mood strikes again.

You can organize in a way that works for you.

So many organization applications are made to work one way and that can be really difficult to navigate as someone with ADHD. So many people with ADHD have such specific needs in regards to how they organize that it can be really hard to find something that works. Half the time we end up just scrambling around from application to application, cursing them as we go because one has one thing we like, but it doesn’t have the thing this other one has that we like and nothing ever seems to just work.

Trello makes it possible to personalize how you organize and even change how you organize halfway through. I keep my to do list organized in 4 priority levels with the addition of a Pin list and a Done list. You could also:

Keep a list that works as a calendar, with a card for each entry, organized in order of date

Keep a list of reminders where automated weekly/monthly/yearly responsibilities pop up

Jot down reminders as you think of them

Keep lists of school assignments in the order they’re due

Use descriptions and photo uploads on cards to collect information or resources needed for said assignments

Keep lists of information that’s easy to forget or lose track of on paper like address history, work history, references, contact information, and so on (like I’ve done on my ‘Pin’ list)

Use boards for projects, to keep track of things like resources, due dates, meeting times, sending files between classmates or project partners, and so on

Use boards for planning events like weddings, parties, conferences, school dances, or whatever else you’re into

Collect resources, references, or recreational to-dos (like links to fanfiction you want to read)

Literally anything

You can separate everything onto different boards, making everything visible from the titles of cards, or combine it all into one, with lots of information available on a click

The sky’s the limit

You can automate repeat tasks.

ADHD comes with a lot of forgetfulness when it comes to regular tasks, such as weekly appointments, medication reminders, and a yearly charge for your Nintendo membership. You can put that stuff into your calendar, but that can also be tricky because then you have information spread across multiple platforms.

Just as easily, you can set Butler to make new cards with reminders on them.

There’s probably more but I have ADHD and I forgot

Just think of the possibilities!!

I used to get debilitatingly stressed out because I would have 10 things floating around in my head because I was simultaneously trying not to forget them and also stressing about them and I would make what I call “spaghetti lists” where I would list all the things I’m thinking of, just as a way to calm down and know that I won’t forget them, so that my brain could quiet down.

Since starting this board, I haven’t had to do that once because all of the things I’m afraid of forgetting are already listed, even if they’re on the list titled ‘ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ‘ because idk if they’re ever actually gonna happen.

It can be incredibly stressful to see all of your to do items in one place, but since starting this, I have been less stressed overall, because I now know I can find them all in that one place. Learning to manage and cope with the stress of knowing I have a lot to do is easier than forgetting things and then realizing I’m late on something or things just never happening because I never remember them when I’m in a place where I can work on them.

And when you have everything in one place to reference when you have some executive energy, you can suddenly just start doing things. I have them labeled by type so I can go, “I’m in the mood to draw,” and then check all the dark blue labels for creative projects. It makes everything so much easier.

Anyway, I hope this is helpful to some of you, it’s genuinely been life changing for me

[yourheartonfire]

Oh here's a fun prompt! A person who has a super power to move super quick (mentally and physically though if surprised could zoom half a mile before blinking wondering what that was about) and the cook (waiter or fast food employee) at a local restaurant who starts to like them but also wonders 'how the heck do they eat so much??' (Could be a super hero, a stop motion animator or some person just really cramming for college finals at top speed but the dynamic seems fun!)

Thank you for the prompt- it was fun!

"So are you an athlete or what?" asked the waitress as she slid a fifth plate onto the counter in front of the hero.

The hero froze, fork halfway to her mouth. Typically there were more people in here, even at 2 in the morning. There weren't that many all-night diners in the city and this place was walking distance to the nightclubs. But it was Tuesday night and all the club kids must've gone somewhere else for their bottomless pancake specials. Other than the TV crackling late night reruns in the corner, the hero had the waitress's undivided attention.

"Uh..." the hero said, glancing down at the sweats pulled on over her costume. "...yes?"

"I knew it!" The waitress banged down her coffee pot in triumph, leaned back towards the kitchen window. "YOU HEAR THAT, EDGAR? I TOLD YOU THAT GIRL IS CARB LOADING!" The waitress leaned in with a knowing smile. "We figured it was that or something glandular."

"GEEZ, MARIE, YOU DON'T JUST ACTUALLY SAY THAT TO PEOPLE!" came a muffled yell from the kitchen.

"DON'T BE SO PRIM, SHE'S FINE," Marie hollered back, before glancing over the hero and narrowing her eyes. "Something wrong with the pancakes?"

The hero hastily shoved the forgotten bite into her mouth. Marie beamed. "So whadaya do, hon? Swimming, right?" the waitress went on without pause. "You're always all bundled up, and you got those wide shoulders and long arms like that weird fish guy with all the gold medals. Not that you look like a fish, hon. It looks gorgeous on you."

"MARIE WHAT IN THE BABY JESUS'S NAME IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"WELL EXCUSE ME FOR TRYIN' TO BOND," Marie screamed back. "SHE'S BEEN COMING IN HERE FOR WEEKS AFTER HER SWIMMING PRACTICES, ALL ALONE LIKE SHE HASN'T GOT A FRIEND IN THE WORLD, AND I'M SUPPOSED TO IGNORE A LOYAL CUSTOMER?"

"Distance running, actually," the hero said softly, and immediately wondered why the hell she'd felt compelled to share that.

"HA!" yelled Edgar. Marie stuck out her tongue towards the kitchen window and grabbed the orange juice from the counter fridge.

"That woulda been my second guess," she said breezily, topping off the hero's glass. "I knew it had to be some kinda endurance thing, keeping you up late, getting you so hungry. You're my only lady regular who goes for the Bottomless Pancakes - and don't tell them, but you could eat those boys under the table!"

She cackled and the hero smiled woozily. This was way more social interaction than she was used to. Stupid overblown metabolism. She would finish this last plate and get out of here, before Marie started guessing at her name, age, astrological sign, who knew.

"So, we're gonna need a picture for our celebrity wall!" Marie asked with a grin. The hero almost choked on her drink. Yep, this was getting worse. "Come on! We're practically sponsoring you in calories-"

A blare of frantic music out of the TV blessedly derailed the conversation. Marie and the hero both glanced up as a hastily dressed news anchor flashed onto the screen in front of the reddish glow of live footage. "We interrupt this broadcast with breaking news. A high rise apartment fire has broken out downtown. Our chopper is on the scene..."

"Yikes," said Marie with a head shake. "EDGAR, ARE YOU SEEING THIS? That's not too far from here -"

Marie turned and the hero was gone, a few crumpled bills beside her plate. She stared at the empty stool a moment, looked back thoughtfully to the TV.

---

It was weeks before the hero slunk back to the diner counter, muttered an order for eggs and hashbrowns to the distracted waitress. The place was jammed, but it was only a minute before a plate of pancakes piled with strawberries and whipped cream slid onto the counter in front of her.

"I didn't order-" the hero started to say. The waitress waved her off.

"On the house, hon," Marie said with a wink and bustled off. From the kitchen, the order bell dinged dinged merrily.

Behind the counter, right over the coffee maker, hung a new neatly framed newspaper clipping: "Speedster Stops Fire, Saves Tenants."

The hero considered the frame for a long minute as the waitress rushed plates back and forth. And then she shrugged and took a bite with a tiny smile.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 19 (Part Two)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒

My focus is on Gavin x MC interactions, so content relating to the plot will be in bullet-points :>

Part One: here

[ Notable Scene: Infiltrating the STF ]

MC: ...but aren’t you relieved from your duties?

Gavin seems to guess the words I haven’t said, and he lets out a soft, unnatural cough.

Gavin: I know every patrolling post in the STF, patrol timings and angles of the surveillance cameras. I can ensure that we’d get in successfully without anyone noticing. However, since I only saw his face from four years ago...

MC: I’ll go with you. As long as I see his face, I can point him out to you.

Gavin has a teasing smile in his eyes, perhaps seeing the urgency written on my face.

Gavin: In that case, let’s go for a walk in STF tonight.

-

Late at night, Gavin and I infiltrate the STF through an outer wall.

Pale moonlight outlines a misty halo around him, softening his edges.

He finds an open window with ease. Lifting me up, he lets me jump through the window before leaping in himself.

This appears to be a utility room.

MC: Captain Gavin’s really good at this.

Gavin: This is the STF. I won’t bump into anyone even with my eyes closed, much less the walls.

Before Gavin finishes speaking, Tang Chao walks in with a bowl of instant noodles, a wicked smile on his face while he pushes the door open.

Tang Chao: Instant noodles must be eaten on the sly. Otherwise, I might-

When Tang Chao sees Gavin, he pauses in his footsteps.

In this short span of time, we look at each other speechlessly, the only thing left being the steam rising from the instant noodles.

All of a sudden, Tang Chao rolls his eyes, his body doing a 180 degree turn. With the instant noodles in hand, he steps out of the door before closing it.

Gavin: ...

MC: ...didn’t you say you wouldn’t bump into anyone even with your eyes closed?

Moonlight streams in from the window, illuminating the side of his face clearly. I turn my head stiffly, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs slightly.

Gavin: Tang Chao is slacking off.

Tang Chao’s slightly frantic voice can be heard indistinctly.

Tang Chao: Since Captain hasn’t been around, there were changes to the duty roster... Please save me. That was so awkward. Oh no, I don’t want to run laps...

I stare at Gavin quietly. His expression has returned to normal, as though nothing happened.

Gavin: It’s okay, let’s continue.

Gavin listens to the surroundings calmly. After a moment, he pulls me out of the utility room.

Suddenly, a set of uniform footsteps can be heard from behind us.

STF Agent: ...

Even before we can turn, the regular footsteps turn into small, scattered steps, akin to busy bees fleeing in disarray. The surroundings slowly return to silence.

MC: Have we been completely exposed...?

With a soft cough, a reddish hue climbs up the tips of Gavin’s ears.

Gavin: It doesn’t count if we aren’t caught. 

Eli (through the speakers): Hey hey hey.

Eli’s voice suddenly drifts from the STF’s broadcast speakers. Gavin carefully pulls me over to hide in a shadowy corner of the corridor.

Eli (through the speakers): ...due to some indescribable reasons, all the surveillance cameras in the STF will take a break for 15 minutes. If a certain colleague wishes to go somewhere or do something, please do so quickly.

Gavin: ...

MC: Pfft.

Seeing Gavin’s slightly speechless expression, I can’t help but laugh aloud.

This person is protected by many people who are unafraid of anything, isn’t he?

After this, we occasionally bump into familiar faces. However, they seem to have made a prior arrangement, and choose to ignore us.

Gavin seems to hesitate on whether he should make an explanation, but it eventually turns into one sigh after another.

In the end, we “very successfully” step into the room with the “Eye in the Sky” system.

Using the system, Gavin retrieves footage from the football match, and MC is able to identify the wheelchair-bound man, Du Wen

Gavin then searches up information on him as well as his approximate whereabouts

The both of them find him in a small alley

He admits that he’s the founder of the Fulcrum Charity Organisation, and has been assisting Gray Rhino in whatever he can

He claims that he means them no harm. To prove this, he allows MC to read his memories

Although they find the circumstances too convenient and deliberate, MC reads his memories because why not

She notices that certain memories have been stored in a misty bubble, just like the “firewall” she installed for Gavin earlier

Still, she searches for memories from the New Years Change Incident

She "sweeps” these memories into her own mind, and confirms that he’s indeed a victim of the incident

Gavin asks how he should contact Du Wen in the future, and the latter says he’d appear during a safe time

Once they leave, MC tells Gavin that they can use the Golden Apple 2 to display the memories she saw

Gavin says that Du Wen’s words aren’t trustworthy, but at least they have some leads that could further guide them to the truth

The next afternoon, MC learns from Kiki that the exhibition hall will be re-opening the next day. So she contacts Gavin and plan to sneak into it that same night

When she arrives, there’s someone else with Gavin - an elderly man with a missing left arm

She finds him familiar

[ Notable Scene: MC meets Captain Yan ]

Gavin: MC, this is the old policeman, Captain Yan. Today, he’s mainly here to cover for us. Captain Yan, this is...

Captain Yan: No need for introductions. You’ve mentioned her many times.

Before I can express my shock, Captain Yan sends me a warm gaze.

Captain Yan: MC, we met once at the hospital. I always hear your name from this young lad, so I’m pretty familiar with you.

Captain Yan smiles teasingly, then gives Gavin a meaningful look.

Captain Yan: If he ever bullies you, remember to tell me. As his senior, I’ll give him a proper scolding.

MC: O-okay! Thanks, Uncle Yan.

Gavin: Cough. We’ll leave the pleasantries for next time. We should go now.

With this, Gavin speeds up and walks forward, a faint red hue climbing up the tips of his ears.

Seeing Captain Yan’s grin, I hurriedly lower my head and follow after him.

MC: Gavin, wait for me!

With Captain Yan keeping watch, MC and Gavin use the Golden Apple 2

In the simulated memories of the New Years Change Incident, Gavin notices post-injection bruises on Du Wen’s hand

Du Wen and those around him don’t seem to know what’s going on, but they’re frightened due to the sounds of gunshots and explosions outside

A handful of Evolvers revolt, but are shot to death by officers dressed in NW uniforms

Du Wen flees, and the both of them follow after him

In the end, they watch as a beam crushes the lower part of Du Wen’s body

At the same time, a drone in the simulation appears to take aim at MC

[ Notable Scene: Gavin’s Protection ]

Gavin: MC!

An urgent exclamation drifts to my ears. Turning to the voice, I see Gavin lunging towards me involuntarily.

Those amber eyes grow large in front of me. In the next second, I’m enveloped in Gavin’s arms.

My cheek is pressed tightly to his chest, and powerful heartbeats echo at my ear.

His heart is beating very quickly - so quickly that my heart subconsciously matches its frequency.

“Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.”

It’s as though these powerful heartbeats are the only things left in the entire world.

In every difficult or dangerous situation, I’m always able to hear this sound.

It’s as though they have melded into my bloodstream, becoming a kind of instinct.

Gavin: It’s fine, there's no need to leave the system.

Gavin’s hand is by his ear. After stating his judgement calmly, he looks at me.

Gavin: Are you okay?

MC: Gavin, this is fake.

Gavin: Mm. But my body seems to have reacted a little faster than my brain.

His amber eyes reflect the blood-coloured sky, filled with worry and fret that he hasn’t had the time to shed off.

Gavin: Whether it’s real or an illusion, I don’t want you to get hurt in front of me.

MC: But they would simply pass through my body.

Gavin: Not even if they pass through.

He speaks unyieldingly.

MC: Okay, whatever you say.

Gavin: Let’s get out of here.

They continue looking at the chaos and hear the sounds of crying and screaming

Gavin appears composed, but the fingertips holding onto MC are quivering, as though he's barely suppressing his anger at the injustice before him

The scene shifts, and what appears before them is a NW laboratory

Du Wen has thick tubes stuck all over him, and he’s submerged in a gigantic apparatus

MC traces that the memory is from 2 months prior to the New Years Change Incident

A senior official from NW walks in, and he seems to be in charge of a secret experiment

[ Notable Scene: Gavin and MC’s Future Father-in-law]

His eyes are steadfast and icy, as though nothing can sway him.

And nothing can destroy or obstruct him.

Gavin stands rooted to the spot. He watches as the man draws closer and closer to himself-

And walks straight through him.

Gavin has already matured into someone whose height is on par with his. They have incredibly similar features, and they even share an identical straight and powerful gait.

However, Gavin doesn’t turn around. His entire body remains stiff until the world gradually gathers into a patch of darkness.

He doesn’t move. The faint white light causes him to look pale.

Slowly, he lowers his head, covering his eyes.

I stand behind him, not saying a word.

That senior official is Gavin’s father.

Once they’re out of the Golden Apple 2, Captain Yan notices how solemn Gavin looks

Gavin takes Captain Yan and MC to a simple apartment to talk

Gavin fills Captain Yan in on what they saw

Captain Yan and Gavin start discussing what happened, and MC heads over to the window to look at the view despite the best view being Gavin

Gavin brings up the laboratory, and Captain Yan asks if he saw “that person”. Gavin grits his teeth and says, “I saw him.”

[ Notable Scene: The End of Chapter 19 ]

Gavin: MC, I’ll send you home.

By the time Gavin comes up from behind me, Captain Yan has already left.

I notice Gavin’s tense lower jaw. He seems to be doing his best to appear natural in front of me.

To appear as though he doesn’t care.

Seeing this person before me, I feel my heart being clenched tight.

MC: Gavin, I want to go somewhere before heading home. Could you accompany me?

-

When we leap over the walls of Loveland High, confusion flashes across his eyes.

The gentle evening breeze brushes his fringe, and his figure is immersed in patches of moonlight.

It’s been a very long time since I last returned to this place. But images from this place always surface in my mind.

The field, the stairs, the roof, the gymnasium late at night, and the infirmary.

During that period of time I had re-lived, I wanted nothing more than for time to move a little faster.

So that I’d be able to reach that day when I could walk over to him a little sooner.

However, this year, I’m reluctant to let time pass by as quickly. 

During the time in which the wind blew by, that young man filled all my memories related to youth.

That’s how reluctant I am.

That’s why I’ve been walking slowly on purpose. Even so, in just the blink of an eye, he disappeared in the breeze of youth.

Pulling on Gavin’s hand, we walk along the field, and walk into the depths of the forest behind the school.

MC: Gavin, I think you’re angry.

I turn my head to the side to look at him. Gavin simply furrows his brows slightly, and it’s clear that he feels a little uneasy.

MC: You don’t need to pretend that nothing’s bothering you in front of me. Anger isn’t something you should feel ashamed of.

Gavin: I...

He opens his mouth, but something sews it up again.

A fierce wind suddenly rises, causing countless fallen leaves to swirl in the air.

They are reminiscent of incessant, agonised screams.

Gavin: I... just can’t understand. There are clearly many other methods. There are many other choices.

His words are blended into the wind, suppressed and pained.

I don’t turn my head to look at his expression. I simply stand beside him quietly, our fingers interlaced together, standing in the middle of the fierce gale.

With the flow of time, the fierce gale becomes calmer. In the end, it morphs into a gentle breeze, brushing our fringes.

Gavin: MC, thank you.

I shake my head, turning my head towards him.

MC: Gavin, do you know something? The reason why I brought you back here was to tell you that I hope your beautiful memories won't simply be confined to high school. Beautiful things should continue, and never end.

While saying this solemnly, my heart speeds up uncontrollably.

Gavin’s pupils quiver slightly, and he squeezes my hands tightly.

Gavin: Thank you.

Very softly, he repeats these words.

MC: Let’s walk around a little more before heading home.

I chuckle happily, my footsteps becoming incomparably lighter.

All of a sudden, my palm feels empty -

It’s as though Gavin released my hand.

Feeling puzzled, I turn around to find that Gavin had simply shifted his hand behind his back.

MC: What’s wrong?

Gavin: ...nothing.

When the girl’s confusion is dispelled and she continues walking forward, Gavin lowers his head to look at his vanished right arm, his expression composed.

As compared to his right hand disappearing the last time, the scope seems to have grown larger this time.

Gavin follows behind the girl calmly, contemplating quietly.

His time might be shorter than he imagined.

Gavin chuckles softly, the corners of his lips hooking upwards slowly.

Gavin: MC.

I pause in my footsteps and turn around, realising that we’re several footsteps apart.

MC: Gavin, what’s wrong?

Gavin: I just received news from Captain Yan. I might have to leave for a while.

MC: So suddenly?

Gavin: Sorry. After sending you home, I’ll set out.

He looks at me apologetically, as though suppressing something once again.

-

After returning home, I quickly remove my shoes and rush to the window to search for that figure.

Guessing that I’d do this, Gavin doesn’t leave immediately. He stands downstairs, waiting for me.

A gust of wind burrows in through the window, as though carrying with it slight reluctance as it makes gentle twirls around me again and again.

I lean my palm against the glass, wanting to say another farewell to him.

MC: Gavin, you must return safely.

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[sunarintoes]

Street racer!bf/gf headcanons

Note: this is set in the world of adkor - an ongoing series featuring the haikyuu characters as street racers! However you don’t actually have to read it to understand these headcanons (they’re just regular bf hcs with a bit of spice)

Includes: the main trio of love interests - Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kiyoko

✗ As a bf he would honestly love for you to attend his races but would honestly be really scared for you. Like he wouldn't want you to be at the bleachers or a checkpoint alone because he knows he’s in a sketchy crowd and wants to prioritise your safety!

✗ So during the races where he’s not with you, you chill in Seijoh’s clubroom with the managers and everyone else who’s not racing or working. There you watch the race live on the large flatscreen that’s been divided into 12 sections - each broadcasting a different checkpoint or area. 

✗ OMG!!! He would definitely want to see you try on his uniform - wear his helmet or his jacket and he would literally melt for you <3333 Iwa my beloved. Not that he’d ever really admit that he liked it, but you’d know by the way his face heats up and he becomes a stuttering mess. 

✗ Speaking of wearing his uniform- omg he would absolutely die for you to wear a jacket or a hoodie of his to the races!! And honestly why wouldn't you? It smells good, it's comfy and if we’re being completely honest… you look hot in it! 

✗ Iwa is not the irresponsible type (*cough* Oikawa *cough*) so he would not! Absolutely never allow you to sit in the passenger seat while he drives in a race - even if you are a racer yourself. 

✗ Howeverrrr, if it’s just a chill day with the two of you, he’ll take you for a spin in his car - speed down the streets of Miyagi at obscure hours of the night or perhaps the break of dawn.

✗ Dates are so cute and fun with him! He’ll drive you to cool places that are probably abandoned or restricted/off limits and then he’ll treat you to a cute picnic. 

✗ Every so often he posts pics of you with sappy captions on instagram. His instagram is mainly just car stuff though lol :P

✗ Tries to keep you away from Oiks but you end up becoming besties with him <3, he’ll never admit it but he loves that the two people he cherishes most are close with each other

✗ Following adkor plot, if Yn ends up with Iwa he’ll likely be a bit jealous if they ever interact with Oikawa (because Oiks also fancies Yn for those who don't know). This may cause a strain on his relationship with Oikawa but also Oiks’ relationship with you/Yn. Eventually he’ll get over himself and become less insecure but it will take time. 

✗ He’s also jealous of Kiyoko, she’s so pretty and kind and loving and caring and best of all? She’s safe. Kiyoko does not endanger her life and she rarely yells and she’s just so peaceful. He just can't understand how he is so polar opposite to your ex and it makes him insecure - he’ll most likely be cold and distant towards her to deal with himself.  

✗ You've definitely made out in the backseat of his car :) 

✗ Oh! Also he lets you choose his air freshener. Calls it his “good luck charm.”

✗ How cute <3

✗ This salty class A bitch

✗ My misunderstood and emotionally vulnerable baby 🥺

✗ Ok I literally love Oiks he is so fun to write

✗ Oh yeah you both definitely got off on the wrong hand (like Yn!)

✗ Y’all hated each other and were so fkn spiteful but it’s okay now

✗ You’re each other’s emotional support buddy. A shoulder to cry on. He needs it and you do too (i mean, why else would you be here?)

✗ He has definitely taken you on a race before - you sat in the passenger side and it's all g don't worry bb you were geared up to the max - helmet and all. 

✗ Homie gets so jealous 

✗ Of everyone might I add. He gets both more jealous with Iwa and less jealous. It's hard to explain but he trusts Iwa with his whole heart and knows that he’ll never pull anything but at the same time he just can’t help that he’s insecure. He really hates it, he hates that horrible bubbling feeling of green fire that burns his throat like venom and he hates that it yanks at his heart strings and controls him as if he were a marionette but he just can’t help himself from suffering from it. Thats why he started going to therapy

✗ When you notice that he’s jealous - and trust me, you will, all you have to do is delicately lace his fingers with yours and wrap your other arm around his; maybe place a light kiss on it - preferably his shoulder if you can reach. This simple action is enough to calm him down and remind him that your love belongs to him - nobody else.

✗ Dates are wild and passionate. He zooms along the streets of Miyagi with a grin so large and so carefree you can't help but fall in love all over again with how at peace and genuine he’s being. He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other around you, occasionally he looks over to wink but then he turns back and and lets the wind from his open window run uncontrollably through his already unruly hair. This, ladies, gentlemen and esteemed guests, is a sight so beautiful and genuine that it would be burned into your irises as a core memory if you will - something unforgettable. 

✗ Y’all have fucked in his car without a doubt 😳 sorry bb I don't make the rules; he does. 

✗ Oh and, wear his jacket. He fucking loves to watch you parade around in something he owns :)

✗ Kiyo my beloved <3

✗ She’s so soft for you

✗ Honestly she’s surprised that you’re back with her, she thought that she’d never get a second chance and that you had already moved on from her but turns out she’s wrong as you're currently resting your head on her lap (cute)

✗ When everyone’s racing you two sit together in the Karasuno team room and cuddle while you watch the race go down on the large flatscreen. 

✗ You definitely eat snacks while you watch because duh, who wouldn't? The race makes you so nervous that you just have to sink your teeth into something to prevent your nerves from short circuiting.

✗ She holds your hand like she’s gripping onto you for dear life while you watch the races - she says it's because she’s nervous, which is true, but she’s also scared that you’ll leave her so she wants to hold you tight to prevent that from happening. 

✗ Dates are so cute, you go to small cafes and she does her manager stuff while you stress and rip your hair off over the complexities of building an environmentally friendly car. Honestly the whole time she sneaks glances at you and blushes at how cute you are when you’re stressed out. She won't admit it though. 

✗ PLEASE PLEASE reassure her that you don't feel any negative emotions towards her and that you love her. She needs it. 

✗ Okay if we’re not following adkor’s plot and you're a street racer yourself then she is going to be so worried for you! She will constantly check up on you before your race and hold you in a hug so tight you swear you’re going to die from lack of oxygen; though she only does this behind your team’s garage/locker room/club room because she gags at PDA 

✗ Definitely gives you the same type of hug after you finish the race. 

✗ I think she would melt if you wore some of her clothes or even an accessory. 

✗ Omg please drape her scarf over her and say “don't want you getting a cold now- or maybe i do because then id get to snuggly the hell out of you ;)”

✗ Kiyoko best girl and bisexual icon. Date her for warmth and happiness <3

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

NCT 127 “They realise they love you”

NCT 127 masterlist                                              Group Masterlist

Not requested, but I needed some fluff in my life ♥ 

Taeil: 

(I’ve been so attracted to Taeil lately) 

It started off with simply sitting in the same room and listening to music as you both worked on your computers. But it progressed quickly, singing along to the random tunes on the radio. Moving on to standing and dancing around to them, quite horribly. 

Grabbing onto Taeil’s hand and spinning into his chest, making him laugh. You couldn’t help but do the same as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Taeil tucked his face into neck and started swaying you back forth, slow dancing to fast music because you could. 

Taeil realised he could be as weird as he wanted with you and that you were just as weird him and he loved you for it. 

Johnny:

(I am mad that this hoody is not in my posession) 

Walking between the aisles, Johnny was looking for you attentively after he found the drinks he was looking for. He spotted you in an aisle, standing on your toes and reaching for something on the top shelf. You were just too short to reach. 

“Need help?” He asked, placing his drinks in your shopping cart. “That would be great.” You answered, smiling at him. He reciprocated a cheeky smile before crossing his arms. “Hmmm, tell me that I’m the best man in the world first.” You snorted at his words, needing to stifle a laugh. “You know what, I got it.” You told him, placing your feet on the lower shelves to reach the item you needed. Jumping down with it in your hands, you shook it at him triumphantly making him laugh. 

You weren’t shy to put him in his place with his bad jokes when you needed too and you were completely dependant on him, it made him absolutely love you. 

Taeyong: 

“It’s going to be a late night again.” Those seemed to be the words you had been hearing a lot lately, but it didn’t bother you. You were understanding that his job wasn’t like a regular 9-5 job, you knew that when you said you would date him. This time wasn’t any different for you, you accepted it and simply watched your show until you were tired. 

However it was diferent for Taeyong this time, he felt guilty for not being there and it was evident when he came home to find you simply watching your show. Taeyong walked over to you and hugged you tightly, catching you off guard. “Thank you for always understanding when I need to work. Thank you.” He felt the need to tell you, even if it was out of the blue. 

He realised every time he came home to find you still there, he loved you. He loved that you understood and that you never blamed him for his schedule. 

Yuta:

Yuta was feeling the need to be productive, tidying up the house slightly and doing some of the general housework while you were out. But when he got to your room, he found some interesting reading material. It was all about Japan, recipes, popular things to do, important culture information. This was normal, but what stood out to him were the sticky notes placed on the pages. Places he had mentioned being fun and food he had mentioned being good had little notes written by them. 

“Oh you found my book.” You remarked, looking at him from the door frame. “Yeah, what are all these notes?” Yuta asked with a smile. You moved to sit down by him and took the book from his hands. “These are places you have talked about, things you said you enjoyed doing and eating. Because well, I want to learn about what you love and what you enjoyed doing and stuff we can do and try together in the future.” Your words made Yuta smile even wider. 

You wanted to know about his interest, you cared enough to study on these things and make future plans. He loved you for it. 

Doyoung: 

The little projector in his room was perfect for movie dates, broadcasting your movie onto his wall as you both laid in bed and watched. Doyoung’s commentary was witty, the movie not really being that good... quite bad actually and deserving some harsh commentary. 

There was a lul in the film, making you slip your hands under the hoodie he was wearing, not for any other reason than he was nice and warm. Doyoung knew that and accepted your touch. “This acting is so-” He stopped midsentence once he looked at you. Seeing that all you needed was his body heat to get you to fall asleep. His lips curled up into a smile and wrapped his arms around you tightly. 

It was a small action of dependency on your end but it made Doyoung’s heart swell. He loved that you were started to depend on him, because well, he was depending on you too. 

Jaehyun: 

The record store had music playing softly in the background when you both entered. It really had a nostalgic feeling, old records filling the racks and old band posters lining the walls. You both spread out through the store, taking your time to look at records and cd’s. You were great at spending time together but not necessarily needing to be right next to each other. 

Jaehyun looked at you from across the store, simply watching you flip through the records with a little smile on your face. You looked up and locked eyes with him, waving softly once you noticed he was staring. Jaehyun laughed to himself and looked away, only to find himself staring at you once again. This time you were oblivious to it and simply flipping through cd’s. 

You always caught his attention, you were effortlessly beautiful to him even doing the bare minimum. It was something he loved about you. 

Winwin/Sicheng: 

Sicheng had noticed you had been studying something over the course of the last few weeks. That your nose was stuck in your books and it was clearly a subject you were interested in. one day, curiousity got the better of him and he couldn’t help but flip through your study books. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were learning Chinese?” Sicheng asked you, holding your books. “I was going to surprise you. I know you’re more comfortable speaking Chinese and I want you to be completely comfortable with me.” You said softly and you could see his ears turning red. “That- I- I want to help you then! Be your teacher!” He stuttered, trying to hide how happy it made him. 

You wanted him to be incredibly comfortable with him, you wanted to be able to communicate on the fullest level and it was something he really cherished. 

Jungwoo: 

“Shhh you don’t want to wake anyone up.” You said, looking at Jungwoo’s face as you tiptoed through the dorm. “You shhh, this was your idea.” He laughed and you raised your fingers to your lips, trying to stifle your own laughter. You both made it to the kitchen and turned the lights on. Jungwoo went to the fridge and opened it quite agressively, a bottle of juice rolling out and hitting the floor with a loud thud. 

You both couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore, your adventure for a midnight snack being nothing short of a disaster and comical. Jungwoo grabbed what he was originally looking for from the fridge and handed it to you to turn around. “What are you two doing?” Taeyong asked, arms crossed and staring at you both. “Nothing.” Jungwoo quickly said, brushing past the older male and sending you into giggles. Once you both reached his bedroom with your snack you broke out in a fit of laughter. 

Jungwoo looked at you as you settled in his room, still laughing. He loved that he could make some lighthearted trouble with you. He loved that he could laugh with you. 

Mark: 

You had been considering asking him for the longest time, but you knew Mark was very busy and probably didn’t have the time too. But you still wanted to learn, so you finally took the step. “Mark... can you teach me how to play the guitar?” You asked, holding his guitar by the neck gently. The question caught him off guard, making him look up at you with wide eyes. “I didn’t know you wanted to learn how to play.” Mark said, gesturing for you to sit by him.

“I’ve been wanting too, but you’ve just been so busy. I didn’t want you to feel like you needed too.” You explained, allowing the guitar to rest in your lap. Mark wrapped his arms around you after moving the guitar. “I mean I don’t need too, but I want too. It would be really fun to play together.” Mark said and you smiled not being able to contain your own excitement. “Ahh thank you!” You hugged him tightly, making him turn pink. 

He loved how excited you got over small things and how eager you were to learn something new. It was just so endearing to Mark. 

Haechan/Donghyuk: 

You had both made yourselves comfortable, laptops and gaming computer ready to go. It was you and Donghyuk vs. Johnny and Jaehyun and you were both not planning on losing. “Y/N’s like impossible to kill!” Johnny said in frustration and you simply laughed, bouncing around the map happily. Donghyuk laughed, taking out Jaehyun as you swiftly did the same to Johnny. 

“There we go! That’s my baby!” Donghyuk cheered, knowing that the fact that you two won meant that you wouldn’t have to pay for snacks that night. Annoyed, the two older guys left to go pick up the order while muttering things under their breath. “I keep telling them to stop challenging us as a duo, but they don’t learn.” You said, settling into Donghyuk’s bed. He joined you with a small laugh and rested his head on your chest. “You’re right, we’re just too good.” You both laughed and allowed your fingers to toy with his hair. 

In that moment he realised that you and him had so much in common, even in teasing it made him realise he was head over heels for you.