and-its-relevant-in-two-ways

Marin is slightly more rational than Marinette, meaning he’s less likely to impulsively steal someone’s phone to solve a problem. However, he has a shorter fuse than her and loses his temper way quicker. He struggles more with self-confidence in his abilities, making him a bit of a perfectionist as well.

Adrienne is more reserved than Adrien, meaning she is not as open to people and won’t flirt with her crush as prominently/boldly. This makes her more prone to lying and goofing around to downplay her deeper feelings. She is less innocent than him about how the real world works and gets irritated less quickly.

anonymous asked:

Also on the education system, I've subbed in two districts. One rich and white. The other poor and Latino. They are super close to each other. Surely the rich kids didn't need those fancy IPADS bought for them by the district when the one a town over couldn't get kids relevant books. Its amazing, by the way, how fast history and science books become incredibly outdated.

Combine this with the fact that those textbooks, especially history and social studies textbooks, often present white washed and purposefully misleading narratives of history when it comes to issues of race and class, and you’ve got a system that almost behaves as if it’s very function is to create adults who are unquestioning of authority, who take it for granted that the only way for the world to function is as it is right now, that concepts of inequality as they relate to race, gender and class are set in stone and inalienable, and are generally distrustful and cynical and often unequipped with the knowledge of how to discern fact from propaganda. It’s almost as if this system is one that purposefully sets up a significant portion of the population for failure.

- Mod A

‘When we encounter the Void, we feel that it is primordial emptiness of cosmic proportions and relevance. We become pure consciousness aware of this absolute nothingness; however at the same time we have a paradoxical sense of its essential fullness. This cosmic vacuum is also a plenum (full assembly) since nothing seems to be missing in it. While it does not contain anything in a concrete form manifest form, it seems to comprise all of existence in a potential form. In this paradoxical way we can transcend the usual dichotomy (division into two) between emptiness and form, or existence and non-existence. However, the possibility of such a resolution cannot be adequately conveyed in words; it has to be experienced to be understood.’

~ Stanislav Grof, The Cosmic Game. 

WinterIron AU, in which Bucky hears Tony’s voice in his head. Inspired by a prompt from @writemesomewords


-adjust the parameters, let’s say, what, two point five percent? Or not, no. No, no, no, absolutely not. JARVIS, recalculate the maximum weight the metal could…yeah, just like that… Possibly have to exchange the caliumcarbonate-

A voice, talking way too fast on not enough breath, is the first thing the Asset becomes aware of.

It’s familiar, the voice. The Asset can not identify its source nor its purpose. The voice does not share relevant information nor does it provide assistance during his missions. It’s just there, a quiet murmur in the Asset’s ears. An endless conversation that does not require the Asset to participate.

The voice is with the Asset. Always. The Asset does not know where it comes from or if it’s always been there. The Asset does not know the voice’s purpose but it does not hinder the Asset’s efficiency as long as the Asset does not allow itself to be distracted, so the Asset does not question it.

The voice keeps talking.

*

The Asset lies motionless, pressed to the ground, carefully outside the view of the scheduled guards. The mission requires stealth and patience and an impossible shot, things the Asset is used to provide.

The Asset adjusts the scope on the sniper riffle. Slows its breathing in concentration. Listens to the soft hum of conversation in its ears.

-what do you think you’re- No. No, DUM-E, lift the plate, not find the lift! Will you stop-

Pulls the trigger. Hits.

*

The Asset- He is confused.

His mission is wrong and he’s not sure why. The blonde he’s been hunting is strange is familiar has started hunting him and that’s never happened before. The Asset doesn’t know what to do, finish the mission, who is this Bucky, why does he look at me like that?

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Being an obnoxious idiot must make it hard for the little bit of common sense you’ve got left to penetrate that thick skull of yours-

The Asset He runs. The voice keeps talking.

*

The mission’s man’s name is Steve Rogers. His name is Bucky Barnes.

The As He is Bucky Barnes.

He knows that now. But he doesn’t remember what that means, doesn’t remember what it means to be Bucky Barnes, so he keeps running. Keeps listening.

-what do you mean, it’s almost like I purposefully provoked him? There was no ‘almost’ about it! I’m not gonna apologise, did you even hear what- I’m not being unreasonable!

There’s always something to listen to.

*

He Bucky keeps running. Rogers Steve keeps following.

He Bucky remembers. Something. Sometimes.

Remembers HYDRA. Remembers missions. Remembers faces. Remembers death.

-order pizza, you know what I like-

He Bucky keeps running. Rogers Steve keeps following.

He Bucky dreams. Dreams of tears and begging and crying. Dreams of a trigger he always pulls. Dreams of missions and success and the taste of blood on his tongue.

The nights are too long, always sometimes. The memories hurt and shock and don’t change anything at all. They terrify him because they’re new and old at the same time, things he only just remembers yet somehow knew all along.

-is only my forth coffee today, honest, I swear, why are you looking at me like that?

He Bucky keeps running. Rogers Steve keeps following. 

The voice keeps talking.

He Bucky wonders if it’s always been like this. He doesn’t know though, doesn’t remember.

So he Bucky runs. He Bucky listens.

The voice keeps talking.

*

Steve—Stevie, small, frail, sick—finds him eventually.

Bucky—protect, save, hold—lets himself be found.

-Hammer technology, it doesn’t have to do anything! That it exists is an inexcusable offence on its own and you can quote me on that!

Steve isn’t the same anymore and it’s both, good and bad, because Bucky isn’t the same either. It’s scary and worrisome and just plain wrong. Feels like he’s falling sometimes, the ground beneath his feet crumbling, just when he thinks he’s finally regained his footing.

The voice keeps talking.

*

Bucky is getting better, he knows he is. He hasn’t tried to kill Steve in almost two months, hasn’t lost his composure in public in weeks. Bucky’s getting better, even Sam says so.

Of course he doesn’t know about the voice in Bucky’s head, the one that’s remained unchanged even after all of HYDRA’s programs have been erased. Bucky has no plans to inform Sam of its existence, hasn’t even dared to ask Steve about it, the only person alive who could tell him for sure whether this voice is a result from his years in HYDRA’s merciless hands or not.

Because deep down Bucky knows the answer, knows the truth and he doesn’t can’t allow himself to care. Not when it might mean losing the voice.

I miss it. I miss them. But that doesn’t really change anything, does it?

The voice keeps talking.

Bucky keeps listening.

*

It’s quiet.

The tower is tall, with too much metal and too many windows, cold and impersonal in a way Bucky has come to associate with modern architecture, but he had been fine. 

Steve has been sure that he could do this. Sam hasn’t stopped insisting he was ready for the past month now and frankly Bucky has been willing to go along with whatever crackpot scheme the other man could think of, if only it would shut him the fuck up.

Bucky still doesn’t understand why Steve beamed when he said as much earlier this day. Not that it matters anymore because even as the elevator doors open Bucky knows he was wrong. They were wrong.

It’s quiet.

Bucky didn’t know that he hates silence, despises it, loathes it. He’s never had the chance to find out, until now.

“-can be somewhat, well, abrasive and even crass at times but he’s a good man, Buck, even though he tries his hardest to convince people otherwise-”

Steve is still talking but Bucky isn’t listening anymore, can barely remember how to breathe when his chest feels so tight and his hands are cold, so cold and-

It’s quiet. 

The voice is gone.

“Woah, let the poor guy get through the door before you hand him my psych eval, will you, Cap?”

An amused sharp voice speaks interrupts Steve’s ramblings and Bucky’s head snaps around so fast he can feel the pull in his muscles, not that he cares. Not when he recognises that voice, gets to hear it again after fifty-two seconds an eternity of agonising silence.

Bucky is staring at the other male, he knows, but he can’t bear looking away from warm, brown eyes that are familiar in a way even Steve’s haven’t been in far too long.

“So, you’re the second part of the two for one special deal on super soldiers, huh?” the stranger the voice Tony Stark says as he crosses the distance between them. He spreads his hands, a wide, mocking smirk painted on his lips that reeks of challenge and antagonism and settles something in Bucky’s chest he hasn’t noticed had been knocked loose until now.

And for the first time since he fell from a train almost seventy years ago, the Asset, He, Bucky breathes.

There is no room for silence around Tony Stark.

The letter was utterly unassuming. The envelope was the grubby, faded gray color of paper that had been handled entirely too much by the United States Post Office. It was postmarked from Missouri and addressed in careful, uniform print to Lochlan McKenzie, care of Bradford Parker. The stamp in the corner had Lincoln’s face on it.

But two things about the letter were remarkable.

The first was that it had found its way into Emrys’s hands. Of course, in one respect, this was not remarkable at all. Since Lochlan had moved more permanently in his realm, Emrys had stationed a few well-placed spies in his beloved’s old neighborhood, both to look out for the uncle who had cared for him and to keep an eye out for anything relevant. This was relevant. He was glad they’d swiped it from the mailbox before Brad Parker had found it and got it to Lochlan himself. Still, though, in the candlelit cavern of Emrys’s study, the letter was remarkably out of place. Surrounded by crushed velvet furniture and elaborately carved wooden desks, faery lights that danced in the eaves and an enchanted quill that was currently drafting a rather cutting correspondence to one of Emrys’s children without his actually touching it, well, the letter looked shockingly human.

The second remarkable thing was that the name of the sender, tucked neatly above the return address, was Howard McKenzie.

Truthfully, he was rather disinclined to give it to Lochlan. There was a part of him that wanted to throw it in the fire and never tell him about it. The idea of handing it over to Lochlan, of letting his sweet, fragile, much too forgiving human even look at something his father had touched

Well. He didn’t liked it. But he couldn’t keep it a secret, not really. With a sigh, he waved a hand over his desk, and the magic responded, extinguishing his candles and stilling the quill, to finish the correspondence another time. He stood, exiting the room under the glow of dancing faery lights and heading down a corridor at random. His castle responded to his desires, as it was wont to do, and though nothing changed about the corridor as he walked it, when he opened the door at the end of it, it opened into the deepest parts of the garden’s hedge labyrinth.

Specifically, it opened into the overgrown rose garden that marked the entrance to Lochlan’s private garden. Emrys stood in the garden for a moment, contemplating the letter in his hand again, wishing he didn’t have to hand it over. The light of the moon overhead cast the gray envelope in an even drearier shade, and he sighed, glancing up at the moon with a wry expression. “You’re not helping,” he told her idly, and the light seemed to shine brighter, directly on his face, as if in apology. He soaked in it for a moment—not as good as direct sunlight for energizing him, but still, nice—and then stepped around a particularly thorny rose bush and placed a hand against the tall, green hedge, feeling the enchantment he’d placed to keep out anyone who didn’t have Lochlan’s express permission to enter, which, yes, even applied to him.

Inside the walls of the garden, an eight-foot-tall statue of Aphrodite lifted her head and announced, “His Majesty the King requests permission to enter, Lochlan.” The sound didn’t make it past the hedge walls, however, and so Emrys was left to wait in silence for Lochlan the hedge in front of him to open up with Lochlan’s permission.

@xbureaucrat

Two Roads Meet - Alternate Ending

Ok so here’s the thing

This was originally a chapter that I wrote for two roads meet (if you haven’t read it then u probably should do that first so this makes sense) somewhere after chapter 15 instead of the city bit in chapter 16 if u remember that but I deleted it because I didn’t think it was relevant enough to the story the way it was going (e.g. it wasn’t depressing and heart-wrenching enough I lvoe being a heartless writer ! )

ANYWAY as some of u might know I’ve been meaning to do an alternative ending to this fic for a while now and after many ma n y MAN Y attempts at writing it without feeling as if it was going anywhere I kiiinda gave up HOWEVER after revisiting this chapter I was feeling lik e    Hey maybe i could do something with this

In short I killed two birds with one stone and merged the two ideas together

SO I PRESENT TO YOU THE VERY LONG-AWAITED LOST CHAPTER/MARGINALLY LESS DEPRESSING ALTERNATIVE ENDING OF TWO ROADS FUCKING MEET

That was unnecessarily aggressive I do apologise ANYWAY WHOOP here we G O motherfukcers

-

It’s beautiful, here, Phil writes, balancing his book on the windowsill with the moon as a sufficient enough lamp in order to illuminate the pages in a pale glow. It’s nice, because I haven’t seen the coast properly since I was eight years old, and, he glances up, peering outside at the tall, jagged cliff edges on the other side of the window glass. I think it’s safe enough to say the beauty of the ocean and the beach is far too underappreciated. If we weren’t leaving tomorrow, I’d be perfectly content living here.

It must be so peaceful to live beside the coast, you know? To be on the edge of civilisation, looking one way towards the land, and the other towards the water. It must be nice, comforting, almost, to live with the knowledge an escape is only a matter of footsteps away. In the city, you’re trapped, essentially, in miles and miles of concrete and road and traffic and crowds. Some may find that comforting; they may find reassurance in the knowledge that in the city you’re never alone, but, he gulps. I find it suffocating.

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oh my god do not refer to yuuri katsuki as “Jap Yuri.” 

“jap” is a slur.

It was commonly used in WWII-era United States (and probably its English-speaking allies).  Its use went hand-in-hand with the persecution and internment of Japanese-American immigrants AND natural-born citizens as spies, traitors, criminals, etc.  Please look up “japanese internment” if you want to read more.

the proper abbreviation for Japan/Japanese is jpn.

and besides, there’s already a way to differentiate between the two:

yuuri katsuki = yuuri

yuri plisetsky = yurio

tldr: “jap” is a slur so don’t use it for yuuri katsuki or in any other situation if you can’t reclaim it thanks

EUN-A “EVA” RHIE · 27 · WEAPONS SPECIALIST:MELEE · THE EMPYREAN · TAKEN

“I fell into light’s trap / pure like violence, luminous and weightless as loss.” - This Is My Name, Adonis

ORIGIN:

San Francisco, California

TRAITS:

+ Reliable, Meticulous, Passionate

- Untrusting, Headstrong, Disillusioned

BIOGRAPHY:

THIS IS THE WAY THE WORLD ENDS;

The only child born to Ji Sung “Johnathan” and Soo Mi “Maeve” Rhie, Eun-a “Eva” Rhie was born amidst chaos and destruction. Eva’s mother was a chemist and her father an industrial engineer—both of whom worked for NASA at the Ames research center in California. NASA was not an uncommon employer given the relevance of the times. When their earth was decimating from its very core, the people looked to the skies and the heavens to find their answers. It had been where the two had met, so Eva supposed she owed a lot to the institution. That was certainly the outlook within her household, anyway—the Cooper Project had long since served as the hope for the people. Eva remembered the ways in which the endeavor had once been a hopeful beacon even within her own home. The Culling had been an event spoken about with bated breath, for it was not ideal, but it was kindling something akin of hope in times when there were not very many other options.

Eva always thought herself to be the daughter of two unsung heroes. People like her parents and the common public—those were the people that this project was built on the backs of, and built for, after all. But the glamor of seeing mom and dad in their capes and gowns shimmered and shattered piece by piece the older she got and the harder the sweltering sun beat its unforgiving wrath upon the Earth. There were talks about corrupt corporations trying to overtake the project so many looked to as the hope of survival and the solution to their own extinction, and Eva found it hard to place her faith of the matter while standing by so complacently. With a firm mind and a firmer resolve, she enrolled herself into the military in hopes of contributing to the fight in the best way she could. Her intention had been to aid to securing the Cooper Project and all it stood for, but all of that went to shambles when the Valeris Corporation overthrew any regulatory bodies they had called their government and beyond to reign control. Her unit was disbanded just as the military was, and the beacon of hope that had been their north star was lost in the plumes of a burning, angry Earth.

Just as angered by the actions of the corrupt Valeris Corporation as most of the masses, Eva headed out east after her time in the military was abruptly drawn to a close. There were whispers along the channels about rebels congregating right at the base root of Colorado Springs, and she knew that was where she had to be to finish the fight she had started. With society spiraling into waste, it had been a call between going back home to see if her family was alright or heading east towards the rebellion. Eva chose the rebellion, even as it sat heavy on her chest—if this was their future, she would fight for it in the name of those she called her own. After briefly touching point with her family to let them know she was still alive and fighting and to hear their voices one last time before making her journey, Eva tagged along with a group of ex-military soldiers and made her way out to Colorado just as the roots of the Torchlight rebellion dug into the dry, cracked soil of the Earth in preparation.

NOT WITH A BANG, BUT A WHIMPER.

As the rebels set up their stronghold in the eye of the storm, Eva put herself to good use among the ranks. There was not a day that her mind did not wander back to the family and home she had left behind, but with low resources and the chaos of growing anarchy spreading—there was no way to reach back to them without making the trip back to California. Communications were fried, so Eva didn’t hear about the protests that had attacked the Ames center until weeks after it had happened. As the cities had descended into chaos, the former NASA research institute (like a handful of others) had been kept up and running if only to do the backend research for the headlining project of Valeris Corporation in Colorado Springs. But with rising dissension and anger towards the corrupt corporation, their centers were constant targets of attacks and protests—and the Ames had fallen prey to one of those. There was no death count and no way of knowing who had survived and who hadn’t, and Eva was wrought with the guilt of the unknowing of whether her family and those she had called home even made it out alive or not.

The fear and panic building heavy in her chest only fueled her fire to fight within the rebellion as it ascended, and Eva was involved in as many of the raids as she could be when they grew from small attacks to a large-scale movement. It was a long and hard fight against armed military forces, but they did not fall in their ranks—not until the Molotovs rained from the sky and the rebels were forced to retreat. Eva had never made an acquaintance of death in the ways she did when the sky rained hell fire, but she managed to survive with a grave, deep wound on her side to take as souvenir. The Springs were abandoned as the forces scattered, but Eva remained tied to the meager rebel strongholds that were left about. She knew she had to head west, but she was incapable of it until she could heal from her injury. The process was slow and painful without any of their modern conveniences to help her along, but she was out and headed west as soon as she could walk without stumbling.

The Wastelands were a world of their own. Resembling nothing of the Earth they had once known, Eva learned quick to hit hard, walk easy as the wind and learn to keep death at a harbor to say alive. She needed to go home, it called to her with an unending song that couldn’t—she needed to see if her family had survived the fall of civilization. After making the long trip back to what had once been home, Eva found nothing but dust and ashes. This was hell come alive, and Eva was left to roam it alone with no assured knowledge of what had happened to her mother and father. Being consumed by grief seemed the inevitable option, but survival was not kind to those left behind. The only place left for her to go was back to Colorado Springs where whatever meager numbers of the rebels had set up camp for those who had nowhere else to go. With that she set foot in the wastes again, making the journey this time with a hardened heart and a blade that was quick to draw blood.

FACECLAIM:

Jamie Chung

Indestructible part 2

Hi again! Can you do one with Bucky And Steve where the the reader was their best friend before the war and they both thought she was dead. One day the avengers have a mission to find this person that’s with hydra who kills anyone she wants or just doesn’t like, she has like super strength, can teleport and they took away her humanity so she has no emotions. They find her but she hurts them all and leaves before they can catch her, Bucky and Steve notice it’s her and they try to find any way to bring her back, sorry if it doesn’t make sense and its a bit long - @itssssxxlillian

Tagged: @redheadromanoff, @a-girl-who-loves-disney

Part 1

A/N- Here’s part two, I had a very long day so I hope the quality is as good as you were expecting (gif is sort of not relevant) xx

Originally posted by billy-kaplan

1941

“No, stop, put me down,” you struggled, kicking out your arms and legs that were being held securely by strong men who were carrying you. They had placed a bag over your head so you could only see bits of sunshine filtering through the fabric.

You had been walking back to your apartment in the centre of Brooklyn when all of a sudden you had been grabbed, it was a quiet day so nobody on the street had heard your screams or come to your aid. Before you knew it you were being stuffed into the back of what you assumed was a van, there was tight rope bound around your wrists and ankles.

The rope was thick and scratchy, it burnt your skin when you tried to free yourself. After a long time of trying to free yourself you let your body fall to the floor so could curl up and cry. You had no idea what was in store for you, no idea if you would make it or not, you sobbed and tried to focus on thoughts of Bucky and Steve. Your best friends, your brothers, they would save you. They had to.

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despairmafia - For Bringin’ Back 2013

Hey, everybody. You remember 2013? When Dangan Ronpa was relevant, the UK had its ass in shape, and everyone was on epicmafia.com wasting their lives? Well, here is a blog dedicated to bringing that shit back.

We’re talkin’ screenshots. Dinner games. Crapily-made tutorials. A way to finally get half of the anons asking what dangan mafia is outta my damn inbox.

If ya could reblog this, to get the blog some follows, that’d be cool!

BLOG LINK

Feyre,” Amarantha said, testing my name, the taste of the two syllables on her tongue. “An old name—from our earlier dialects…

This is coming back. This is going to be important. I can feel it in my bones. I’m calling it now. 

Gems and their Meanings

The gemstones in SU have an obvious significance in the character’s personalities. A prime sample would be Malachite and its physical qualities of being poisonous in water, connecting it to Lapis’ and Jasper’s relationship. 

But the other gems have meanings too and I, personally, at their worst when their showing the opposite.

Garnet: it brings order to chaos and is a stone of love and passion. This represents Garnet in a big way, considering she is made from the love of two gems and is the main source of leadership and power within the Crystal Gems.

Originally posted by starscheme

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i am legit wondering, do people actually know the shit Arzaylea has done?

She cheated on her ex-boyfriend that treated her like a damn queen, left him hanging for LA then cheated on him there too! Slept her way up to get to whoever is famous, used people, wanted nothing but fame and did everything she could to get it. She treats people with NO respect, she things everything is about her and that is all that matters. 

She is the rudest person EVER. I didnt think there was someone out there that can be so two-faced, ever but i was wrong, its her.

All of you giving Luke shit for this its not his fault, soon enough he will open his eyes. because hell, every model or some sort of relevant person in LA has exposed her for what she is. I also saw that the band doesn’t even like her, i dont blame them. I dont know why she tags along like a lost puppy, wanting attention 24/7. 

And to that fan that had her photo with Luke ruined because little miss, “im relevant too!” decided to jump in LAST MINUTE without her knowing, dont let it get to you hun. CROPPING is your best friend. 

Sorry, i just needed to say that, you can all agree or disagree but thats just my opinion on this random wanna be fame craving girl. p.s if you say anything about being “jealous” stop fooling yourself. i would like NOTHING more than to not be anything like that girl, that has the worst reputation in LA and around the world. 

Rant.

So I might lose followers for this, but I really don’t care. I’m constantly seeing YANA hate on my feed and you know what that screams to me, pettiness. Extreme immature pettiness. Now the complaint I hear the most is that Misha is taking the “Destiel” “Cockles” viewpoint and its the only way he stays relevant. I have to disagree, I think it was the smartest move he could have made, he knows what fans want (ok not all of us but anyways) In the videos these two extremely loving men put out, Misha has some “Stalker” moments and I personally find it hilarious and I dont ship destiel or Cockles. I see two grown ass men trying to make a point in a humerous way. Let the fangirls be fangirls and see what they want in these videos, the videos are getting views therefore more people see the campaign and buy a shirt or volunteer to help. If anything Misha and Jensen are making a smart choice, get the fangirls excited because then they share it on social media and more people in need are reached. Now you may be asking yourself, “Why does she care so much about what other people think?” I care because 7 months ago I was alone, scared, and fucking hopeless and these hardworking men, who have jobs and families, are putting the same effort into me (and all you unsupportive negative nellys) because they care. We have lost enough people in this fandom from suicide and crisis situations. I’m supporting this cause because when I joined this fandom I was alone, now I have hope, I learned I really am not alone. So you know what maybe the videos are ridiculous and a little bit on the silly side, but you watched it didn’t you? AKF is amazing YANA is amazing, they are 2 halves of one whole. So if you don’t mind, take the stick out of your ass and realize that not everyone is as lucky as you are. This campaign is to help us out, who cares how they fucking do it? Hell im surprised they haven’t said anything about the disgusting behavior, some of y'all should be ashamed. Anyways sorry for the rant, but I can’t do it anymore. If you needed help and you felt alone wouldnt you want to know that theres someone out there in a world of 7 billion people that cared enough to volunteer their time to help you? Meh negative nellys, part 5 of Angels are real will be out tomorrow and some drabbles will be out tonight Always Keep Fighting You Aren’t Alone Your friendly neighborhood Queen of Hell

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

To Love (And Be Loved in Return)

But it was just after a shower when Adam, wiping the condensation from the mirror, spotted the cloud upon his chest. He started so that he almost slipped on the slick floor beneath him. He stared at it, blinking hard, but the elegant curved cloud stayed in its place.
He was in love with Ronan Lynch.

OR: Soulmate AU (kind of) where a person’s mark appears on your chest when you fall in love with them. :))

Read on AO3 // Inspired by this post

Adam’s tattoo on his right ankle looked like a crashing wave, a swirl of curled lines. He felt it was relevant in two ways: one, the ocean was his favorite place and two, he always felt as though he was the one doing the crashing.

There were others, too, of course. Gansey’s ley line triangle sat on the inside of his wrist besides Ronan’s cloud-like bubble. Blue’s oval sat just below the two and he remembered vividly the emotions its appearance had caused him: relief, knowing he was capable of loving someone other than his friends; disappointment, knowing that the mark appeared on his wrist rather than his chest. Even later, it never did reappear on his chest.

He was not in love with Blue Sargent.

Neither of his parents’ marks branded his skin, either; something they had never let him forget.

But it was just after a shower when Adam, wiping the condensation from the mirror, spotted the cloud upon his chest. He started so that he almost slipped on the slick floor beneath him. He stared at it, blinking hard, but the elegant curved cloud stayed in its place.

He was in love with Ronan Lynch.

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