Ibecreating-hopefully - Trying

I’ve done it for Good Omens, I’ve done it for Sherlock, now here’s one for RTD era DW characters

Everyone friend group should include:

A bimbo

A mean bisexual

An even meaner lesbian

A she/they

A he/they

A token straight that’s on thin ice

An astrology bitch with who has everyone’s birth charts memorized

A short king

"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"

my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?

for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.

some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.

some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.

i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.

you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.

i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.

i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!

just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.

because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!

AFTG SUMMER EXCHANGE 2021

This is my gift for @prettybrownbitch 💞

I wanted to combine all your prompts together, but i wrote this and... I thought it sat well on its own. The good news is that writing this finally jumpstarted my other andreil fics so you're welcome to pretend that whatever andreil i ever share from now on is dedicated to you!

The summary:

Andrew thought coming off drugs will get rid of all side-effects, so why is Neil still here?

AKA the scene where Neil picks up the cigarette from the ground and smokes it, but from Andrew’s POV

An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.

Prologue

I’m writing a novel and it’s the primary basis of my description.

The new slave girl darted her eyes around constantly and, when she thought no one was looking, furrowed her dark brow in thought. It intrigued Priscilla Elizabeth Hamilton as she observed people often herself. She noted that the girl was younger than she was, maybe fourteen or fifteen while she herself was already seventeen. Priscilla watched her continue to take in her surroundings rapidly and consistently while she knelt on the floor, hands and ankles bound in iron. There was something clever behind her dark eyes despite the anxiety radiating off of her. The two other new slaves beside her were much older and seemed resigned to their fate; their eyes trained on the floor and shoulders weighed down. Priscilla was used to slaves like that - subdued and docile. The little girl who twitched and fidgeted in her shackles, as if she could wriggle her way to freedom, was certainly interesting. Priscilla was apparently not the only one to notice.

“Little slave. What are you doing, writhing in your chains like that? Are they too loose for you?” Her father’s voice drawled out, lazy and condescending; his power made apparent by his effortless arrogance.

The girl’s head snapped to Edward Hamilton. The air around her turned prickly. Her face debated a snarl. The other slaves stared, somehow feeling the terror that escaped her. There were two very clear choices the girl had. Priscilla oddly hoped that she would be wise and not get herself killed; she was too interesting to die so soon.

In hardly a fraction of a second, the slave lowered her eyes in submission, shaking her head repeatedly and cowering. Edward settled back in his chair, satisfied with the alarm he instilled in the room. Priscilla’s father had always been a simple man - in both mind and wishes. “Good. Now, what is your name? Or can you even understand me? A savage like you would find our civilized speech complicated, after all.” Priscilla fought the urge to roll her eyes at the irony.

“My name is Halima.” The soft voice that floated from the girl’s mouth was accented like all the slaves; the vowels stretched out and the words almost musical. The lilt in their voices was always something Priscilla secretly enjoyed.

“Halima,” her father pronounced it with a lazy sneer as he strutted over to the trembling girl. “Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the role you have now.” He kicked her onto her stomach and sunk a foot into her back. “The only movement I should see from you should be done in accordance to what you are ordered to do. I have no need to see you squirming like a pig and making a racket.” He dug his foot in harder and sneered, “But don’t you worry my dear, you won’t need those chains for that much longer - I’ll have you branded soon enough.”

With a final harsh kick, Edward finally relented off the girl and dragged her back into a kneel by the shackles around her wrists. Priscilla was unsurprised that the blood Halima coughed up and dripped down her chin was red as her own. Halima’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears; her thin frame wracked with silent sobs.

Her father, who had seated himself once again, watched with something akin to satisfaction. “Don’t dribble on the carpet, Halima.” He didn’t bother looking at the other slaves when he said, “Get out; I expect not to be able to distinguish them from the rest come morning.”

“Yes master,” came three soft, musical voices, followed by a flurry of movement. The new slaves were heaved up, albeit in a kind, supporting manner, and lead away.

Priscilla’s sisters and mother were too bored and distracted; her father too pleased and self-absorbed; her brother too starstruck by their father’s showcase of power to notice what happened as the slaves fled the room. But she saw it clearly. Halima’s shoulders were stiff and tense; there was a flash of blood-stained teeth as her lips pulled back in a quiet snarl. She was small and young but had all the presence of a caged beast, one too strong to stay confined. A threat of a reckoning shimmered behind her dark eyes.

There was a distinctive lack of alarm and an abundance of excitement when Priscilla thought, Oh, this is fascinating.

"Havent you ever worked anywhere before?"

PLEASE

Hi I wanna participate

1. Avatar Kyoshi (ATLA)

2. Toph Beifong (ATLA)

3. Amren (ACOTAR)

4. Renee Walker (AFTG)

5. Bee (i dunno her last name cuz i'm a heathen) (AFTG)

6. Aelin Galathynius (TOG)

7. Puck Connolly (Scorpio Races)

8. Hermione Granger (HP)

9. Annabeth Chase (PJO)

10. Sally Jackson (PJO)

Special shout outs to: Lydia Martin (teen wolf), Molly Weasley, Hazel (PJO), Manon (TOG), and a lotta other bad bitches that I can't think of right now

I don't really know people yet but:

@greenconverses (hi Jess, you don't know me at all but I've loved you and your blog since I was like 14)

@sargentcow

@dante-the-witch

Not 10 but these are the peoples whose urls I know off the top of my head

TAG GAME

LIST YOUR 10 FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTERS FROM 10 DIFFERENT FANDOMS THEN TAG 10 PEOPLE

I was tagged by the lovely @kymbersmith-90 except number 1 the rest are in no particular order!

Emma Swan from Once Upon a Time.

Claire Fraser from Outlander.

Feyre Archeron from ACOTAR.

Elain Archeron from ACOTAR.

Nesta Archeron from ACOTAR.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius from TOG.

Lysandra from TOG.

Arya Stark from GOT.

Audrey Rose Wadsworth from SJTR.

Lexie Grey from Grey’s Anatomy

Special mentions: Manon and Elide from TOG, Queen Anne and Constance from The Musketeers, Brianna Fraser from Outlander, Olivia Dunham from Fringe, Katherine Beckett from Castle, Dianna Bishop from ADOW, Lydia Martin from TW, Molly Dawes from Our Girl.

Tagging this beautiful people (I’m tagging more as I answer more lol): @silver-flames @suelky @azriiel @chthonicgardens @hacawijo @juusworld5728 @feyrearcherons @insulindsay @queenringer @ladylochan @silverlinedeyes @rhyssescups @izzyhavilliard @psychee92 @leiaamidala

Her name is Katalin Karikó. Hungarian. Daughter of a butcher. Her thesis work became the basis of the mRNA vaccine technology. Read the article here.

if anyone needs me i'll be frothing at the mouth thinking about the origin of language and interspecies communication. happy wednesday.