b) my personal hell (extremely grateful though I am for the educational experience)
c) a series of private international schools around the world that follow the French curriculum, teach all in French, and assure that your child will come away with a thorough education, a flawless French accent, and the ability to function in a bilingual environment, and likely the loss of desire to glamorize French culture (examples: New York, London)
I've always thought of Veronica as more of a Slytherin. She's not very impulsive, and her wit and cunning are crowning Slytherin traits.
I thought Veronica was Slytherin before the movie. She’s very resourceful, she certainly has ambition, she could care less about the rules, and she’s - as you pointed out - very cunning. She fits the entire checklist really well.
It’s the movie that cemented her in the other direction for me. She chose to stay in Neptune and fight an impossible battle because it was the right thing to do, even after she clears Logan’s name. If she was a Slytherin, she would have taken that job back in New York. She is all about being the champion for the underdog in ways that undermine her self-preservation - she risks going completely broke in TTDTL in her quest to do what she thinks is the right thing to do when she could be living just fine off of a six figure salary in New York and she’s pissed as hell at Weevil for not risking the same sacrifices for justice that she is in MKAT.
She’s stubborn. She’s self-righteous as hell. She’s very cocky. She’s daring and - honestly - pretty impulsive (going into the Fitzpatrick’s bar, sneaking into the Kane household more than once, sneaking into parties of drug lords in TTDTL, etc.) when her sense of justice calls for it. She has a short temper and a strong will. Veronica isn’t a pure Gryffindor in ways that some other characters are, but she is a Gryffindor by choice and actions much in the way that HP is (who also had all of the same traits as most Slytherins but chose to be a Gryffindor).
You probably didn’t want this long ass essay….oops.
You are the author. You wrote the story you wanted and were moved to write and it's so beautiful as it is, and fitting for these characters who ARE equals and break more stereotypes than just alpha!top/omega!bottom. The end of the previous chapter brought the casefic conclusion; the epilogue could be optional for the sensitive reader. An author's note and a tag might be a good compromise. I'm uncomfortable at the idea of authors rewriting to order - I think it would set an awful precedent.
Yes, Thank you. You and everyone else who has responded (thank you, btw) have cemented my own impressions on the matter.
As sorry as I feel for anon for having been triggered by Omega Sherlock penetrating Alpha John, I won’t change it.
In this one instance, i have tagged the fic as switch (I do not usually tag sexual dynamics, but since Omegaverse tends to come with an expectation of Alpha does the penetrating, I have made an exception.) The scene itself is in the epilogue and can be easily avoided. Rewriting is not what I want to do, and would set a fic-to-order precedent which is a very slippery slope indeed.
As much as I regret the anon’s distress, I do not appreciate the method in which they have gone about making their disquiet known, nor their increasing pressure to make changes. Additionally, editing it at this point would be a disservice not only to myself, but to the many other readers who have enjoyed it.
nothing quite like the blunt reminder that horrible people live in even the chillest of places. I live in northern california, home of hippies and the western civil rights movements. and just now driving through town, I saw a truly grotesque racial slur that I don’t care to repeat spray painted across the front of a local shop and the poor owner literally trying to chisel his car’s tires out of cement
stay awake. it doesn’t matter how far away you are from the shootings and protests, you’re never far from the hate and systemic oppression that causes them
Darcy ran as far and as fast as she could out of the building. She did a spin as she hit the stairs and made sure no one was following her, quietly avoiding as many people as she could, getting strange looks from those she passed. Hitting the lobby, she looked behind her once more before pushing through the doors and heading out into the courtyard. She stopped at the cemented circle of benches and turned to look back at the base. Running a hand through her hair, she huffed and walked backwards towards a bench.
“Why did you scream and run like that?” A heavy accented voice asked from behind her. Spinning fast, she stumbled away from the now occupied bench, she was just about to sit on. Time seemed to slow for her as she tripped away from the silver haired man sitting before her. She closed her eyes as she flailed her arms and was about to try and catch her balance when she found she didn’t need to anymore. She was sitting, next to Pietro, hands in her lap. Gently, he moved a strand of hair from her eyes.
All you wanted was to find a nice bush to stick your head into for an ultra private dump while strolling down this wet cement a few days ago. I’ll truly miss the multicolored poos from binge eating Tai’s crayons, and of course picking up countless shredded food wrappers. The ones I knew existed immediately after seeing that guilty look. You were the best dog ever Blazer. Rest in peace buddy.
Gadreel stayed silent as you took his jacket off, shoulders slumped and head hung low. His eyes were concentrating on the carpet of motel room, trying to count the strands of the itchy fabric that had stains on them. He didn’t want to meet your eyes, although it wasn’t like you wanted to meet his either.
“I told you not to go.”
Your voice was hard, holding the thickness of drying cement. He knew it wasn’t your intention to harm him further, not right now at least, but he couldn’t hold back a wince as you grabbed the bottom of his black shirt and forcefully pulled it upwards. His breathing was heavy as he helped you take it off, leaving you to observe the gash that ran along his left shoulder.
“I needed to,” he sighed, watching you shake your head as you leaned down to grab your first-aid kit sitting next to him on the bed. “Y/N, those angels – they were my brothers, trust me, I did not want to do it, but they were going to harm you.”
“And I was going to handle it,” you scoffed, shaking your head again. You slipped the new pair of latex gloves on your hands, grabbing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a clean washcloth.
The wound looked more like a scratch, a very wide scratch, than a deep cut. It was just the surface of the skin that was injured, so at least the bleeding had stopped. With a sigh, you pressed the washcloth against the opening of the bottle and tipped the container upside down, letting the alcohol seep into the textile.
“They’re angels, Y/N,” Gadreel pressed on, “they would have killed you in seconds. I know that you are a good hunter, but this was far too dangerous.”
Without a warning, you pressed the wet cloth against the opened skin. Gadreel yelped quietly, his eyes squeezing shut and his hands balling into fists. Then, realizing what you had done, you quickly pulled away.
“Oh god, sorry!” you apologized, dropping the stained towel on the bed and cupping Gadreel’s cheeks with your hands. Your heart raced in your chest, and you ran a gloved hand through his hair to try to sooth his pain. “I’m sorry, baby, I just – I was so scared and mad, and when you came here hurt–”
“Y/N, I understand,” Gadreel said quietly, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes were still closed, but his hands had relaxed again. “I understand. But I love you, and I needed to protect you. I need you to understand that.”
“I do,” you nodded, closing your eyes too. You could feel Gadreel’s breaths against your lips, and pressed his against yours for a quick kiss. “I understand.”
It’s called campaigning ASSHAT! Ever heard of it? We already know (pretty much) B is going to go and she is just trying her best to campaign but y'all are so delusion because hashtag team Zach forever!!
No, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going while walking. He was currently trying to stuff sheet music down his pants and into his shirt to protect it from the oncoming rain. That was the entire reason he’d gotten into this predicament, accidentally clipping someone’s ankle and disrupting both parties rhythm.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Grayson apologized, one hand grappling with the solo that threatened to flee from his belt and the other keeping his face from the cement. “Are you alright?”
also: "you fell asleep in my car, i drove the whole time. but that's okay, i'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine. i'm driving here, i sit, cursing my government for not using my taxes to fill holes with more cement.•
aaahhhhhhhhh i cried real tears bc they’re perfect
Milwaukee Spartan Dash with the Forteza Spartans!!! I love these people!! They are such great friends❤️I was not fast. I shuffled at times, I was disappointed when I had to walk cuz I totally suck at running and I’m still carrying some winter weight, it seems. Never have my parts seemed so heavy! ;-) lol!! I lost my group and ran most of the race alone but I kept moving forward and I never quit! So I am proud of myself! Thanks to everyone I knew and didn’t know who cheered me on or helped me! What did I do today? Well, I ran up and down every stair at Miller Park, sometimes with a sandbag on my shoulders, crawled up flights of them in an obstacle course, climbed and jumped over walls, did 25 box jumps, 30 push-ups, , carried 5 gallon jugs of water, then crawled under barbed wire, pulled myself along a parking lot, carried heavy cement blocks, pulled a giant weight with a rope, threw a javelin, did 60 burpees, did 25 medicine ball throws, traversed swinging sandbag obstacles…I might be forgetting something since I’m sooooooo tired!
Any massage therapists who want to work for an hour tomorrow afternoon, please leave your info in the comments below!! ;-)
“Boredom engenders violence. The ugliness of buildings excites vandalism. Modern constructions, cemented with the contempt of real estate agents, bask idly in the sun, crumble, and catch fire, according to the programmed usury of their shoddy materials.”
◜ ┅━ › Sunday morning! While most are greeted with breakfast in the morning, I get a microphone shoved in my face. Sunday is the free day where most citizens will wander on the streets. In other words, it’s the perfect day for a street performance with all the shoppers. I made sure what I wore wasn’t going to turn anyone away but instead install the thought of ‘wow, she’s pretty, she could be an idol’. That’s my goal today (like everyday), to make people believe I can be a star.