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#vindicated if they come true but you will not feel any better

mychoombatheroomba · 5 months

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Your Move

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 3

Krauser has you lead another lesson.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Chapter Index

Two figures were waiting for Leon’s squad when the time came for close quarters drills a week later. One bulky man in a red beret, and the other . . . well, part of him had expected to see you again.

Your presence at Krauser’s side set murmurs throughout the squad - the men and women training alongside Leon taking every opportunity to talk before they got into formation. “Looks like the Sergeant came back for seconds,” one of them said, and Leon felt the attention turn to him for a moment. They all probably imagined he would be getting a matching bruise on the other cheek. Maybe even a touch up on the now fading original.

Even with the apology you’d given him, Leon knew by the look in your eyes that any fighting you did today would be without mercy. You were just as you had been on that first day - focused and determined. Something told him that there would be no slip of that mask, this time.

He felt more than a little vindicated when Krauser announced what today’s exercise would be.

“You know, boys, I was promised the best and brightest Uncle Sam had to offer. You can imagine my disappointment when I was settled with you lot.” The Major shook his head, stepping forward. “Weeks of training, and you’ve all got shit to show for it, and you know what? It’s my fault.” Not a good sign to hear Krauser admit his fault in something. “I had you fighting each other all this time. Letting you teach each other your mistakes.” He motioned you forward, and you obeyed, eying all the recruits in front of you. Your gaze, cold as steel, spared Leon no extra moments of attention. “Williams.” Krauser pointed to the first cadet in line. “Arm yourself. Then you’re up.”

It wasn’t just going to be Leon, this time. The young recruit didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. What he was sure of was that he and his fellows would have bruises by the end of the day.

Leon just watched, doing all he could to prepare himself as Williams took up a knife and stepped up to you. Leon had fought her before. She’d trained with the army, just like most of the other recruits here had. Just as you had, if your rank was any indication. She was tall, broad shouldered and strong to match. She’d been one of the better fighters in their unit since day one. It didn’t end up mattering. Again, you began the fight unarmed and again you had your opponent’s knife in a matter of seconds. Williams inhaled sharply as you bent her wrist inward, taking the knife and resting it at her throat in one clean motion.

“And that right there is what I’m talking about,” Krauser shook his head. “Step back, Williams, before you embarrass yourself more. Alenko!”

Krauser pointed to the next recruit in line, and Leon knew what was coming next. Ten recruits, himself included. Ten recruits, ten fights, and he was third to last.

“But sir-” Williams tried, but Krauser silenced her.

“You’re dead. Dead people don’t get to fight.” Leon wished that were true. Wondered if Krauser knew how ironic a statement that was. “Back in formation.”

Williams listened, and Alenko took her place. Down the line you went, tearing your way through Leon’s unit, one at a time. All he could do was watch and wait, trying to analyze. To look for a weakness, or something he could use. Patterns, favored sides, anything.

As he searched, in those quick exchanges before you found your victory, he realized fully what he was up against. He knew from your first fight that you were skilled but watching it from the outside . . . he’d only ever seen Major Krauser move like that. You looked invincible, even when you made missteps. Even when a knife came too close and your eyes flashed, or with the way your breathing was coming faster with every opponent, Leon could only think that nothing would stop you. It was impressive in a way that made his throat feel dry and his heart beat faster.

Still, he'd gotten you once before. He could do it again.

“Kennedy!”

It wasn’t about winning, it was about learning. That was the point of this. Leon had to remember that.

Smaller arm movements.

He’d been practicing, but he knew you had been, too. He’d seen you in the yard in your off hours, or at the firing range. It seemed like you lived for nothing but this - and whatever your reasons, your work had paid off.

Stepping up against you made him feel heavy. Grounded. Like your razor-edged focus was seeping into him. There was no sign of familiarity between the two of you, no indication that you had sought him out to apologize. Just a little tilt of your head, one that Leon understood well enough.

Your move.

Keeping his arms close, his knife low, Leon weighed his options. The guard you stood in left your hands up, ready to defend. Leaving your lower body open for attack. Your left leg was forward.

Leon moved, his knife a line of silver through the air, poised to hit your leg. You stepped back, your left arm moving. Your hand met his forearm, guiding the knife away from you. Leon let the motion happen, the momentum of it making what he planned next easier. You wanted smaller movements, you would get them.

He twisted the knife, angling its blade back so that it would slash across your forearm. It was the smallest movement he could manage, and delivered with a speed that was too much for you to avoid. As you saw what was happening and moved your hand away, Leon felt the dull edge meet your skin. It was just a scrape, but the attack had worked.

He knew better than to think one scratch would mean a win. It wouldn't be a victory against any of his fellow recruits, and it damn sure wouldn't be a victory against you.

Knife moving fast, he slashed up at your arm. You blocked, moving back. Another slash, another block. Each one, he felt himself getting closer to his target-

He realized why all too late as you moved, your arm coming up and over his own and trapping him against your body. He felt his arm extend, edging close to the point of pain as you moved, your free hand coming to his shoulder. Eyes wide, Leon tried to move back, his free hand reaching for something, some hail mary attack he could get to. In the end, with you just out of reach, Leon could only fight to remain upright as you used his arm to pull him down.

It was a fight that he lost, and for the second time, he was forced to the ground face-first, your weight and the now painful hold you kept on his arm keeping him down.

And just like that, it was over. Krauser called the next name, and Leon was done.

It was stupid to let the frustration get to him, but it crept in from under the floorboards anyway. At least, it did, until just before you released your hold on him, Leon heard your voice. “Better.” It was all you said, and it was spoken so quietly he almost missed it. Still, it was enough. Then you let his arm go and stood, your weight being gone letting him move.

A hand, one with bruised and scraped knuckles, was offered to him. This time, Leon took it, offering you a grateful look as you pulled him to his feet. He stood just in time to see you tucking your dog tags back beneath your shirt.

Three tags. Not two.

There was no opportunity to question what he’d seen. He fell back into formation, just as another recruit took his place against you.

The remaining fights were quick, just as Leon’s had been. One ended with a knife flying towards the line Leon and the others were in before you twisted your opponent’s hand behind their back. The final fight, however close the knife came to your throat, was over when you took the practice knife from the man you fought and drove it into his gut. He grunted in pain, and Krauser barked “Hold!”

You were at attention in a split second, the practice knife still in your hand. Krauser stepped forward, his lips pulled tight into a smirk.

“Well, that was a damn tragedy to watch.” No one laughed, all of them either too furious at getting their asses handed to them, or knowing better than to interrupt the Major in any way. “All armed, one after another, and the Sergeant still wiped the floor with you.” He almost sounded proud of you. That pride was gone as soon as it came, as Krauser took a more serious tone. “I promise you, whatever you find yourselves up against won’t be as forgiving as our Sergeant, here. You think you’re all ready for that? You think you can afford to be sloppy when you’re in the thick of it?”

Leon’s throat tightened, and he remembered that night. He remembered the monstrosities he’d fought, all the times teeth had nearly ripped into his throat, or a claw had just barely missed his belly. He had been lucky. He wouldn’t always be.

He had to be ready.

“I was going to have us run drills, but now? Now I think running is the only thing you would be good for in a fight.”

Leon knew what that meant. So did everyone else in line, if the shift in energy was any indication. The march was miserable, but they always were. This one just had an overtone of shame and anger to it. Some were angry with Krauser, whispering that he was just a prick, that he was trying to scare them.

They didn’t know what was waiting for them when they were done with this training. Some of them might have heard the rumors or heard from a second-hand account what happened in Raccoon City. They hadn’t been there. They hadn't had the light drained from young, bright eyes like he had. Like Claire had. Sherry. Youth and childhood taken from them all in one night. These soldiers hadn't seen what he'd seen, or survived what he'd survived.

If they wouldn’t prepare, then Leon would. So others wouldn't have to suffer what he and Claire and Sherry had suffered. That was what he resolved himself to do as he trudged on, the weight of the pack on his shoulders nothing next to the weight of what he had seen.

He would prepare, and he knew just how to start.

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Chapter Index

A/N: I love the process of rereading these while posting them here, cause Leon is truly just a little guy in these first few chapters!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #jack krauser #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #between the bones #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x you #no y/n

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lore-o-hoe · 2 months

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Hera, a Goddess Who Deserved Better:

First of all, hello to everyone still here! GOD it’s been a long time, but you now how it goes life and all that. Anyways on with the discussion and of course…

🚨SPOILERS FOR EP. 273🚨

We see Hera floating in an unconscious state having flashbacks to her time with Zeus and all the while her mother is repeatedly calling her name.

The parallels here are heartbreaking but also cathartic in a way. Hera has had a tough go of it despite being Queen of the gods. Raised to fight a war, torn apart to win said war, and being Queen of The Gods in exchange for being married to perhaps the most prolific philanderer the world has ever known.

In chapter 119 we see her being dissatisfied and frustrated with what her life has come to, feeling that she had so much potential and purpose in her younger years, only to be stifled (literally and figuratively) following the war and her marriage to Zeus.

It’s been speculated amongst the community that Hera had been the next fertility goddess before Persephone and to see that vindicated in this way in her declaration to Kronos was more than gratifying to see. I especially loved the parallels between the opening scenes of Episode 119 and this one:

It was stunning and meaningful

Also there’s more of a sense of finality to Hera’s separation to Zeus following the revelation. He paints it as protecting Hera but as always his true motivations are put into doubt.

Given his insistence on wanting to know if she loved him, it’s likely he knew from his experiences with her mother, that some kind of love based connection was necessary. And like the men in his line decided to use that connection for his own means. War or no war him withholding the truth from her and siphoning her power is enough to brand him in my opinion. And unknowingly Hera was in turn made to feel as if she needed to limit herself and power as to placate him and make him feel ‘safe’ (again Episode 119):

I could definitely be wrong, but with all this information I can’t really see a formal reconciliation between the two. And after that cute kiss with Echo as well as that somber goodbye to a comatose Zeus… I can’t see her being around him anymore in any capacity.

What’s even more heartbreaking is the words of the old harpy to Demeter back in Episode 264. When she declares Persephone the Fertility Goddess of her generation, she also states that the one in Demeter’s generation was sapped of her power before she even had a chance to fully come into them.

Zeus literally stole her youth and power from her for his own gain… god I need a minute. And his b.s about ‘keeping everyone safe’ despite his promise to Métis who wanted Hera to finally be free… is it bad I want Hera to beat him down? That may be too much to ask for.

She literally had no time or chance to discover herself and potential before she was basically stuck with Zeus and her role as Queen and goddess of marriage. While she is adept at her role and enjoys some aspect of being royalty, I can’t help but wonder what her life would be if she had her own choice? If the war had ended and she was more detached from Zeus, what would her world and future look like through her own eyes and merit?

No wonder she was so protective of Persephone, they are one and the same. I’ve always expressed that they are two sides of the same coin with Hera trying to prevent Persephone from falling into her same path that was marred with unhappiness and limited choices.

So the remaining questions seems to be what will be next for her? Past the confrontation with Kronos I’m wondering what she’ll do now know her full potential and being practically reborn? Will she return to her Queen of the gods role or will she just do her own thing for a while? But before we get there of course, her battle with Kronos is going to take center stage for the time being. While Persephone’s power/fight involved mostly nature given her ‘nature’ I wonder if Hera’s will be the same? Or with the star/space imagery will it be more space based somehow?? I’m not sure but I guess we’ll see in the next episode!

Until next time y’all! ✨

#lore olympus #lo persephone #my post #lore olympus webcomic #lore olympus zeus #lore olympus hera #lore Olympus spoilers

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ddarker-dreams · 5 months

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Hey! If you don't mind me asking, I would like some writing advice.

I'm thinking about writing a fic, so I'm in the concept stage. The problem is that I'm having trouble coming up with reasons and situations that would make the reader and the subject of interest interact with each other as often as they should so that they can get their relationship developed and get attached. How long do you think the reader can go without interacting with the love interest? How can I give the love interest presence when they're not on scene? (it's not a yan fic, btw, so they would have much more independence than typical darling)

I'm not sure if this has been asked before, and you can just ignore it if you don't feel like answering 🙂

IT IS A DILEMMA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

unfortunately, there isn't really any solid formula on the frequency of interactions between love interests, it varies wildly depending on the story. arriving at that balance is difficult. i gauge it by taking a step back and considering how my interest would ebb and flow if i was the reader. of course, this too is completely subjective... but, how engaged i feel during a scene when the love interest isn't present depends on a few things.

for starters, there's how plot heavy the story itself is is. if the scene is establishing something that is crucial to the plot, then i'm happy to read along. my personal criteria is to make these plot heavy segments worth reading. i try to make them compelling, or engaging at the very least. i call it the bonsai phase. i slap stuff down without thinking too much about, well, anything, then get to trimming. snip snip ✂. this is difficult to give guidance on because it's so subjective and unique to your writing style.

it can be anything from often overlooked aspects like keeping sentence lengths varied to the language itself. should there be extensive prose communicating the protagonist's emotional turmoil to the reader? can it be effectively communicated in a sentence, would that pack more a punch? should it be left implied? up to interpretation? why would one work better than the other?

as for how long the story should go without the love interest popping up... again, that really depends. if i'm planning to make them hang out in limbo for a while, i'll ask myself why the story benefits from that choice. how long they stay in purgatory depends on the answer to that question. for example, if there's a huge spicy argument between the MC and love interest, you can leverage the reader's emotions of spite toward the love interest to make them feel vindicated by the love interest being in time out for relationship crimes.

ultimately, i can read pages upon pages of the most random stuff ever if it's written in an interesting enough way. i've read analysis from moots on topics i've literally never heard of before just because i find their writing that engaging.

and, well, if all else fails, there's always the pièces de résistance — add smut. people will read through 200k of slowburn just for that. this is a joke but also kinda not a joke because it's true.

i have no idea if any of this is helpful but i hope there's something decent to glean from it 😭😭

#writing advice #answered #Anonymous

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even-disco-baby · 2 years

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DOLORES DEI — “I don’t *understand* you, Harry. You aren’t dying, you’re just sad. Why is everything an apocalypse to you? People don’t die of sadness! I’m… I’m not trying to kill you, Harry…” Her holy gaze falls to her feet. “I never wanted to hurt you at all.”

DRAMA — She speaks the truth, sire. All she ever did was love you.

RHETORIC — No. Don’t let her control the narrative. She’s *wrong.* People die of sadness every day. Sadness the likes of which she has never and will never know. Tell her about the body on the boardwalk, his mouth full of chewing gum to mask the smell of disappointment. Tell her about René’s angry little heart full of barbs and spines that repelled all but one man. Tell her about Cuno’s father, wasting away and leaving nothing but a specter that will dog his son’s footsteps forever. Tell her about Ruby. Tell her about the Bad Day.

“I never wanted to hurt you, either. I just wanted you to understand *my* hurt.”

“Just because you can’t imagine something doesn’t mean that it isn’t real.”

DOLORES DEI — “But that’s not true, is it?” Her beautiful eyes are full of pain. “You *did* want to hurt me. You wanted me to be sad, too. And then you wanted me to leave you and prove that you were right about everything. About me, about life…”

She sighs, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Well, you got what you wanted. I’m gone and I’m never coming back. Are you happy? Does it feel *good* to be right?”

INLAND EMPIRE — Nothing will ever feel good or right again. You have made certain of that.

RHETORIC — It feels better than the constant dread of being abandoned. It feels like vindication.

“I never wanted to hurt you, either. I just wanted you to understand *my* hurt.”

“Just because you can’t imagine something doesn’t mean that it isn’t real.”

DOLORES DEI — “This again!” She pinches the bridge of her nose, and the gesture makes her look strangely more human. “What do you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry for not being born poor?’ ‘I’m sorry for not being an alcoholic?’ ‘I’m sorry I don’t want to die?’ I’m not going to ruin my life just to understand where you’re coming from, Harry!”

And then, her expression softens. Like light passing through stained glass. “You’re not well, Harry. You don’t need to die. You just need help.”

EMPATHY — She genuinely wants you to be better. And she believes that you can be.

RHETORIC — But she fails to understand the difference between you two. Poverty, addiction, the pain wracking your bodymind… She can leave these realities behind. Go back home to her parents, start a new life on another isola and be a new person. And so she did, and so she is. But you? It’s too late for you. It was too late from the moment you were born, in the death throes of the revolution. It was her people that killed it.

VOLITION — Is any of that her fault? Is it wrong for her to save herself from you, just because you can’t? You can be sad and angry at this wedge the world drove between you, but why did you have to misplace that anger? You took it out on her just because you could. You made it impossible for her to stand by you without getting stabbed in the back. You even became a cop so you could take it out on other people, too. Stop this, Harry. No more cruelty.

“There is no helping me. The world isn’t built to help people like me. I realized that in Martinaise. None of us can just *leave.*”

“Fuck you. You don’t know what I need.”

“I want to get better. Would you love me again if I got better?”

DOLORES DEI — She smiles, and it’s tinged with pity. “Oh, Harry… You are what you are. I’ve already forgiven you for that. And you may not forgive me, but I am what I am.” She closes her eyes, head bowing just slightly, almost like a prayer. “But we cannot *be* together anymore. Don’t you see that? There is nothing good left that can come of it. It would just be… more of this.”

Her Innocence Dolores Dei opens her eyes and looks around her— at this strange set you have constructed to act out a million different conversations that all end the same way. “I can’t live in your nightmares, Harry. And neither can you.”

VOLITION — You don’t have to anymore. Let her go, Harry.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Dora.”

DOLORES DEI — She smiles that pitying smile again. It’s not going to be that simple. “See you around, Harry.”

INLAND EMPIRE — You can try to rid yourself of this place, this feeling… But it will come back to you eventually. What you build at low tide will be swallowed up again someday.

VOLITION — And then you’ll build it again. As long as you live. You can do it.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #dora ingerlund #dolores dei #suicide tw #dora is. so juicy to me.#tfw you come from wealth and so you are the only person in the narrative capable of leaving the realities of life behind #but the leaving is exactly what deprives you of a voice in this story #except from the pov of your shitty unreliable narrator ex #who can only remember you as a vague concept to project both his own self loathing and his directionless anger onto #but there’s also kernels of truth to certain things he remembers about you #which is that class drove a wedge between you that prevented you from being able to even imagine what was going on w him internally and why #but he only drove that wedge farther and made it impossible for you to bridge that gap #are you the villain in this story? are you a martyr?#you’re neither. you’re just a human with no power over the circumstances of her birth #but more power over what course your life takes than other characters in this story #and so you get to live in one new world at the cost of another

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femsolid · 10 months

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the more I learn about feminism, the way society favors men, male violence, porn and so on, the more hopeless I feel. I read one news article talking about how the UK police uncovered several forums distributing AI generated illegal content involving children and it was my breaking point. it was too much for me to handle.

so here’s my question, how do you keep yourself from falling into despair when you learn about horrible things (towards women and children) happening? I’m considering taking a break from the internet at this point.

Consciousness raising is about learning how men function as a class but it's also about learning that you're part of a class too. You realize that you are part of something bigger than you, a very old battle for freedom. This should make you feel strong, not weak. Upon realizing what men have done, what they still do, the magnitude of systemic misogyny, you should feel angry and embolden, not hopeless. And most importantly you should feel a deep sense of solidarity with other women and relief because you're taking control of your life, you are starting to live for yourself and not for men. You should feel vindicated and free, like you're leaving a cult, the patriarchal brainwashing, behind.

So why is hopelessness taking over? Well you mentionned taking a break from the internet and not from feminism which is more telling than you think. Is feminist consciousness the problem or is it the fact that you're being bombarded with negativity, male violence and misogyny on the internet? Once you are aware of what men do, do you need to be reminded of it everyday? Do you need to know in gruesome details what men do to us and what the latest act of male violence and perversion is? If it makes you feel hopeless then the answer is no. Because of course it's going to affect you. "True crimes" doesn't need to be your hobby, you can unfollow those who only post upsetting and traumatizing content and step away from any platform that dwells on negativity. Yes it's fine to take a break, regroup, recharge your battery. And it's fine to leave an Internet community altogether. Do what you need to do.

The despair you feel also typically comes with passivity or the feeling that whatever you're doing is not working. You can't expect to feel energetic and joyful if you sit passively observing what men do to us or if you try to reform the patriarchy. Either way the patriarchy remains in place, so of course it's gonna feel hopeless. The minute you start to take steps towards radically changing your own life or helping women and girls (or both) you'll start to feel better. You need to use what you've learned. The despair comes from not feeling useful.

Also look at what women and girls are doing. The separatist communities, lifestyles and events, the successful boycotting, mocking and ruining of misogynists, the support networks, the increased awareness of women and their subsequent lowered tolerance for abuse and day to day misogyny, the way women speak up everyday in ways they never did nor could before. We are in the middle of an anti-feminist backlash, that's why men are pushing for porn, bdsm, extreme objectification, karen, bitch, terf, femoid. For them to be so vehement about feminists, on every side of the political spectrum no less, they have to feel threatened. That's because women have progressed a lot. It's women's independence, women's sense of unity, women's sexual autonomy, women's speaking up and women's confidence that they feel the need to attack. So that gives you an idea of what we're doing right and what we should focus on. It's far from hopeless.

#ask

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bohemian-nights · 7 months

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There’s something I’m really trying to wrap my head around: if you hate Nettles for breaking up Daemon and Rhaenyra then what difference does her skin color make?Like, I’ve definitely criticized Martin for his habit of having an older man finally meet his soulmate who just happens to be a young dark haired tomboy but I’m consistent about it. Why would Nettles being white make her more palatable? She’s still breaking up a ship

When I say that Nettles being race-bent would make her more appealing to this fandom, I’m basically going off of the pattern with other fandoms when it comes to Black female love interests and how this fandom has been treating her so far.

Go into any fandom(The Bear, The Flash, Marvel, Sleepy Hollow, Vampire Diaries, The Flash, Twisted, Riverdale, you name it, it’s there) and watch how they act when a Black girl might get/gets with the resident fandom hottie that everyone lusts after.

Like clockwork suddenly there are a million and one excuses on why she can’t get with the guy or how their relationship is “wrong”(she doesn’t need a man she’s strong and independent, why can’t she just be friends with him, they have no chemistry, it’s abuse, she’s a lesbian, etc).

Google fandom misogynoir and what pops up will leave you feeling a mix of vindication cause you aren’t going crazy and severely depressed because no one really accepts accountability or gives a sh*t so the problem keeps festering for years.

People will try to gaslight you into thinking nothing is wrong(which is what they are currently doing with Nettles since her fanbase is small) until people are finally forced to admit that there is a problem once they've been called out by white people or several articles have been written about their vicious behavior. By then it's too late.

Most Black people leave fandoms for this kind of abuse because when you are treated like less than in real life then when you try to have some fun like everyone else you are still treated like crap. Fandoms should serve as a source of escapism, yet for Black fans they are just another headache.

The only reprieve Black women have is when we create our own shows and movies (which people still get mad at but that's another discussion) and even then sometimes you are still dealing with a load of bullcrap(Shonda Rhimes I am looking at you).

The reason why this happens is because sadly fans use most of these female characters as self inserts. And while Black girls have no problem seeing themselves in other women the same isn’t true for other women(and that has to do with the ignorant belief that they are better because they aren’t Black).

These people are not used to not being put on a pedestal for nothing other than having the right skin tone so when once in a blue moon that doesn’t happen(or it looks like it won’t happen) it sends some into panic mode and thus comes in a need to put those Black characters back into the undesirable box.

The HOTD/Dance fandom in particular has a problem with this.

See how before this show Laena used to be thought of as Daemon’s great love, but the moment she became Blackish she was tossed to the side in favor of saying Miss Maegor was his great love, called her N-word, and compared her to a monkey. People don't have a nice word to say about show!Laena unless it's to support a ship where their self-insert is at the center of that didn't even happen with essentially no canon basis.

And you can’t use the excuse that the fans don’t ship it because Daemon was a crappy husband to Laena. After all, Dumbnyra wasn’t portrayed in a healthy light either yet it’s the most popular ship in this fandom by a long shot.

Now, I obviously don’t think everybody would suddenly start shipping Dettles if she were white or race-bent, but for a great deal of the people objecting to the ship and hating on her, it seems that Nettles’ race is the main reason why:

The fact that you have Dumbnyra stans(the last highlighted one) respecting Alys(a character from another team who they actively dislike) more than Nettles says it all and if that’s not enough then you also have this:

I guess props to them for at least acknowledging that Nettles is Daemon’s lover, but saying it’s fine to replace her with a white woman? Okay😒

Another anonymous individual straight up admitted they don’t want Daemon with a Black woman:

And it’s not as if people haven’t actively wanted Nettles to be race-bent, denied she’s Black-ish in the first place(see people thinking that it’s impossible for Black people to have brown skin🙃), or said that she was going to be played by insert non-Blackish.

Even when that beach photo was leaked no one really bothered looking for the two Black actresses in the pictures(some dumba** literally thought a obviously Black woman wasn’t Black and instead was a white woman in Black face because she wasn’t the color of the night sky🤦🏽‍♀️).

Team Green is not innocent either because the only value they see in Nettles is as a prop for a racist white woman’s awakening or as a gotcha moment to say Daemon is a pedo:

I would take you guys saying she's a child and her relationship with Daemon is icky seriously if you didn't ship the white version of Dettles, Alysmond.

All of this isn’t a coincidence. Nettles’ race is literally the thing that makes these people uncomfortable with her character, her relationship with Daemon, and her presence in the show(and the book for those who actually read it and didn’t immediately descend into a fit of rage at the mere mention of her name). She’s disrespected and treated like sh*t from this fandom because she's Black.

Again everything wouldn’t be peaches and cream if Netty wasn’t who she was, but as it stands, Daemon and Nettles would not be met with such visceral hate and repulsion if Nettles were white(or even non-Black) instead of a Black girl which non-Black fan girls refuse to actually relate to.

#bnasks #bnask #nettles #daemon targaryen #daemon x nettles #daemon targaryen x nettles #hotd fandom misogynoir #bncommentary #anti hotd fandom #anti asoiaf fandom #i’m tired 🙃

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thatgirl4815 · 8 months

Note

This isn’t about sandray but I like your thoughts and so I need to know your opinions on this: is it just me or are Top and Boston being unfairly punished by this show? i know they both did wrong and their mistakes were huge but at this point I just feel like they’ve gotten it back tenfold and it just KEEPS going, especially this episode. It doesn’t help that I can’t tell if the show knows it’s wrong they’re being treated like this or they think the karma is justified.

I have a lot of thoughts about this, and most of them have come up after this last episode, so I'm gonna dive into both characters' treatment by the narrative.

I'm going to start with Boston because this episode in particular made me feel differently about him. I'll start by saying that Boston is a character I have loved to hate. He's not my favorite by any means because his behavior towards his friends is horribly unjustified. Let the record state that I have absolutely no problem with his lifestyle--he can sleep with as many people as he wants as often as he wants. I could (possibly...maybe...) forgive him for sleeping with Top while Top was with Mew if he hadn't pre-meditated it so much. This is a guy who chased after Top and came onto him multiple times even knowing that Top did not want it. Even though Top eventually relented and slept with him, I think Top deserves an apology for that, because that behavior was very uncomfortable.

I would not blame any of Boston's friends, especially Mew, if they did not forgive Boston for sleeping with Top. Mew has every right to never want to see Boston again, no matter what Boston does to try to make it up to him. That being said, I do not think Mew would have been justified in publicizing Boston's sex tape. Taking revenge is a slippery slope because it makes you just as bad as the offender, but the sex tape is especially bad because that is something with very major repercussions (and it's also just an insane invasion of privacy). Not to mention, Boston's dad would have also gotten tied up in the fallout. Thankfully, Mew took the high road by not posting it.

Overall, I think Boston has been facing the consequences of his own actions for the last several episodes. But what really rubbed me the wrong way this episode was Atom. I don't care if he feels hurt (which, btw, Boston never promised him anything more than a one-night stand)--he had no right to paint himself as an SA victim when he knows that he was the one coming on to Boston. Yes, I think Cheum is vindicated for being upset that Boston slept with her brother, particularily given Boston's relationship with her atm. But for Atom to convince Cheum that Boston not only slept with him, but forced him into it and also took his nude photos without his consent is wildly unacceptable.

In general: I think Boston deserves being cut off by his friends. I think he deserves being shunned by them. But he didn't deserve to have Atom punish him by painting that narrative around their night together.

Okay, now to Top. Top has rubbed me the wrong way from Ep1 just by his attitude; it was originally very hard for me to tell whether to trust him. Like Mew, I wanted him to be tested to see whether he was true. I still don't think Mew has to forgive him for cheating on him, but I do think taking revenge on him by being in a relationship with Boeing (or even just pretending to be in one) is exactly the opposite of what Mew was trying to get across when he decided not to share Boston's sex tape. It seems immature quite frankly, and it makes Mew no better than Top. In that sense, I think Top is being unjustly punished, because though he deserves to have to fight for Mew's affection/trust again, being cheated on himself isn't right either. I'm also not entirely sure why Boeing is so intent on punishing Top when it seems like they were on good terms (though I guess Boeing feels like he's just been used by Top?). I don't think what Boeing is doing is deserved either. The one thing I think Top has deserved is Mew's distrust, but revenge against him doesn't feel right, even if it is "making things equal." Then where does the cycle end?

Anyways, sorry for the rant but yeah, I have a lot of opinions about Boston and Top as characters. As to whether they are being treated unfairly by the narrative, I don't think there's a clear-cut answer. They're being punished for the things they did do, but they're also being punished above and beyond that.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #topmew #boeing #bostonnick #only friends boston #only friends top #only friends meta #only friends episode 10 #ask #only friends ask

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leftnotright · 11 months

Text

PROOF APOLLO WEARS HAWAIIAN SHIRTS

“The Tri-Ni-Sette machine is failing. The world will die.” “We can’t do anything going forward. Going backwards, however, is another matter.” Ryohei had his mission: To go back. To before the most recent Arcobaleno Curse, to before the slaughter of the Simone. To before the Tri-Ni-Sette System finally gave out. Ryohei was used to loss, in the ring and in life. But this time, he promises, he’ll win. Reborn had his mission: Get in this man’s pants, or die trying. After all, Reborn was nothing if not an Icarus.

(Or: The ‘size matters’ fic)

Parings: Reborn/Sasagawa Ryohei Characters: Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Ten Years Later Sasagawa Ryouhei, Sasagawa Ryouhei, Vindice (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Checker Face | Kawahira Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ryouhei Time Travels

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

CHAPTER 2: I’M GONNA MAKE HIM PROUD IN THE END

Sasagawa Ryohei knew he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. But even a fool could see the writing on the wall when it was so ugly…and so painfully familiar.

Ryohei always knew something was wrong with his relationship with Tsuna. His ‘Harmony’. He knew that it was…Fragile. Straining to keep its hold and bond them through sheer obedience and stubbornness.

They had been told this was what they had, that this feeling was Harmony. They were told they were part of a whole, part of a Set. That their relationship, their bond, their Harmony was perfect and true. The strongest bond between Flames.

They didn’t know any better.

But Ryohei knew.

Ryohei had always known something was wrong. His — instinct, drive, passion — Flame had been put in a sun-shaped box that was ten sizes too small. Too cramped, too awkward. It wasn’t his place.

Tsuna, his little brother of ten long years, was not Ryohei’s Sky.

He should have realised sooner. After all, he’s experienced it before — this pain.

Tsuna wasn’t Ryohei’s first Sky. Ryohei had realised that as soon as he felt that creeping, unsure, frantic nudging at his Flame years ago. He knew what it felt like to be embraced, to Harmonise. It felt like coming home.

And home, for so many years, had been Kyoko. His darling little sister, who always accepted people with open arms and such unyielding optimism.

Kyoko, Hana, Ryohei. A little Set in themselves. The Kings and Queens of their playground. An indisputable trio. But they had grown. And then Ryohei kept growing. His Sun grew, larger and larger until he saw the way it begin to burn them. He saw their skin flush red, the sweat gathered on their napes.

And he remembered the pain, the biting pain in his chest, as his first Harmony burnt itself out. Kyoko had cried for days and no one knew why, all Ryohei could do was stay away and let the blisters heal.

Ryohei had nearly forgotten what it felt like. To be brought Home. Blissful ignorance was so close. And then Tsuna came, with a Sky so vast and welcoming that he thought-

He should have known better.

But he was so glad he had been part of this Set. This rag-tag band of amazing idiots. They were all so fun and fantastic and so warm.

“Please understand,” Talbot said gently, “This journey. There is no return. The past will swallow you.”

“This is a one-way trip,” Verde agreed, “Whoever goes, you’re not coming back.”

The stress in the room had been palpable. Who would go back? Who would be cut off from their Family and Set, forever?

Ryohei watched his Family look at each other, murmuring and biting their lips. They were all so important. Ryohei couldn’t imagine this Set surviving without any of them — Tsuna, Takeshi Hayato, Kyoya, Mukuro, Chrome, Lambo. They were all so necessary. Irreplaceable.

They were all so thoroughly tied into this Set, utterly perfect in their place. The Set was designed for them, down to the ember. A Set built upon the foundations of beliefs, needs and desires fulfilled.

The Set wouldn’t survive with any of those Flames lost. But… Ryohei knew.

Ryohei wasn’t their Sun — oh he wished he was — but he was still their big brother. And big brothers take the hit for the family. They make sure the youngers are happy and safe. Always.

“I’ll go,” Ryohei said again, making sure he was heard.

There was a long silence in the room. Then Mukuro stood from his seat, hands slamming down on the table with a bang.

“Absolutely not!” Mukuro shouted, a fierce look in his eyes. “Ryohei, you are not going.”

Voices piled on top of each other with a vengeance. A chair crashed against a wall, someone ducked a vase. The usual chaos of a Vongola Style Meeting.

“Enough!” Talbot boomed.

Everyone ceased, teeth gritted and fists clenched.

“Sasagawa, do you understand what you’re volunteering for?” Talbot asked him, ancient eyes boring into him from across the room.

Ryohei met them without a word. A quiet, tired acceptance, underlay with a damning drive. Ryohei was used to loss; and knowing what he did, he couldn’t wish it upon his Family. He knew the feeling of coming Home, of being welcomed with open arms — and then being forced to leave.

Ryohei was used to loss. He was the big brother of his Family, he could take it again. One more time for his Family.

“Yeah,” Ryohei said, nodding his head. “I’ll go. Just tell me what to do.”

☀

Among the Vongola’s many sprawling properties which speckled Europe, was the original church of the First Vongola Sun. It was small, with walls made of uneven stone and a roof made of sturdy wood and terracotta tile. The Vongola had been careful to preserve the sanctuary of Father Knuckles.

Ryohei was always thankful for that.

He sat in one of only ten pews, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Sunlight streamed in from an open window and he soaked it up readily, letting the warmth relax him all over exactly as Colonello had taught him years ago.

His meditative state of mind was interrupted, however, when the doors to the church were slammed open, two sets of boots clacking against the tile floor. Ryohei grimaced a bit, knowing who was coming down that aisle, and knowing exactly how pissed they were with him.

“Sasagawa Ryohei, what do you think you’re doing?” Mukuro hissed, kicking the pews until he had a clear area to stand in front of Ryohei. “Why the hell did you volunteer?”

“Ryohei,” Chrome frowned something severe, her hands clenched together in front of her in a show of careful control. “Please tell us why you think you should be the one to go back.”

Ryohei shifted in his seat, anxious energy rushing back now that he had been knocked out of his meditation half-baked. His thumb traced the edges of the Sun jewel on his Vongola Ring in a soothing, repetitive motion.

“Well,” he cleared his throat and sat back, smiling a bit, “Well, it sounded fun to the extreme, ya know? I’m going to the past! Even you haven’t gone to the past, Muku-bro!”

“You still don’t have permission to call me that,” Mukuro scowled before sitting himself down on the edge of the upturned pew. “Tell us honestly, you blundering muscle-head.”

Chrome came and sat beside Ryohei, and between the pews and these people, Ryohei was thoroughly cornered by fast encroaching Mist. It was comforting, despite how many would disagree.

Ryohei glanced between the two Mists. Over the ten years united under a Sky, these two had become his closest friends.

Chrome reminded him so much of his sister, and Ryohei had watched with no little amount of pride as Chrome had truly come into herself as a woman of Vongola. The epitome of deadly grace, Chrome had become an idol for many young mafiosos.

Mukuro was a monster, just like the rest of them. With Flames bright and vibrant, and a skill so perfected that even Arcobaleno fell to him. Ryohei had taken comfort that, with Mukuro at least, he didn’t need to hold back. Mukuro’s illusions could handle being crushed; again, and again. As many times as Ryohei needed to cool his blood.

Some people thought that Mukuro was taking advantage of Ryohei, tricking him into carrying out dastardly deeds and underhanded pranks. Some people thought that Chrome infantilised Ryohei, treated him more like the teenager he was rather than the man he had become.

What they didn’t realise was that Ryohei dealt it back as good as he got. Mukuro wanted to cause havoc? Ryohei was always ready to see if he could bring down a building. Chrome wanted him to come be quiet with her? He’ll carry her until she’s chosen a good napping spot in the orchards.

Together, these two had become his closest friends. The most unlikely of matches. But they had been perfect for him — he just wished he was perfect for them. Even now, he could see the redness in Chrome's cheeks as she tried to cool herself down, her Set burning her from the inside out.

“You guys are too important to go,” Ryohei said finally, and Mukuro raised an eyebrow in response. “The Vongola needs you. You’re the Mists, they’ll need you for defence and to hide how bad this whole situation’s going to get before the timeline uh—”

“Recalibrates according to new variables,” Chrome supplied gently, “New choices making new things happen.”

“Yeah that,” Ryohei pointed at her and she gently pushed it away. “But Talbot said that it’d take time. Like a — a cosmic lag. So, ya know, in the meantime, they’ll need you.”

“And why can’t we just send that damned Cloud?” Mukuro pushed, “Not like that guy wants to hang around with us anyway.”

“CEDEF, Kyoya’s important,” Ryohei insisted, “And so is Hayato, and Takeshi, and Lambo — and of course, Tsuna can’t go back! They’re all so important to the extreme!”

Chrome twisted in her seat, “Are you saying you’re not important, Ryohei?”

Ryohei’s mouth clicked shut. He felt eyes on him, burning into his face, and he resisted the urge to bow his head and hide.

“Never said that,” he muttered, and heard Mukuro tsk in annoyance.

“Good, cause you’re the only person here who I can tolerate for more than fifteen minutes.”

“What about Chrome?” Ryohei asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Doesn’t count,” They answered.

Ryohei smiled when they did that. Chrome and Mukuro were perfect for each other.

“It’s for the best if I go,” Ryohei said slowly, “We can’t leave this in just anyone’s hands. And the Tri-Ni-Sette… I’m going.”

Mukuro stood up sharply and all but gritted out, “It’s because we’re too small, isn’t it?”

Ryohei bit his tongue.

Mukuro crossed his arms irritably. Chrome clasped her hands in her lap tighter.

“We,” Chrome glanced at Mukuro. “We don’t know what we’ll do without you.”

Ryohei stared at Chrome, her flushed cheeks and sweaty nape. It was mid-February, but she had already started to forgo jackets and stockings. He looked to Mukuro, who hid it well, but Ryohei could see his tie was looser than it used to be. And those gloves he used to love, had been finally cast aside.

“You’ll be fine,” Ryohei smiled, throwing his arm over Chrome’s shoulder. “You’ve got Tsuna and you've got each other!” Ryohei looked at Mukuro and said again, “You’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.”

Mukuro gritted his teeth, before letting out a huge breath. He crossed the small space and sat on the other side of Ryohei, boxing him in comfortingly.

“This is all because we’re too small to hold you,” Mukuro murmured, gazing upon the altar where Knuckles used to pray. “Our Harmony, it's too weak to keep you. It always has been.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryohei sighed, and took his arm off Chrome, trying to ignore how she took off her vest as well, covertly fanning herself. “I wish I wasn’t so… difficult for you all. I wish I was right for you. So much.”

“No,” they said at the same time, leaning into his space.

“You do not apologise for this,” Chrome scolded.

Mukuro gazed at Ryohei with a damning determination, a kind of surety Ryohei could only associate with a man who had lived life six times over. Wiser than any one man had a right to be.

“You weren’t too difficult. You were too great for us, Ryohei.”

Ryohei closed his eyes and clenched his hands together, bowing his head until they pressed to his brow.

Mukuro stared at that Ring sitting just shy of Ryohei's forehead. The proof of his position as the Vongola's Sun, the proof of the ten years Ryohei fought alongside them.

"We won't take another Sun," Mukuro announced.

Ryohei flinched, something sour and something so sweet welling in his chest. They would never take another. Never replace him.

"Even if Tsuna brings in another Sun, someone he thinks is the perfect Guardian. We won't accept them. They can be Vongola's Guardian, but they won't be our Sun. Our Ryohei."

Chrome touched Ryohei's hands, the tips of her fingers grazing the starburst scars that dotted his knuckles. All hard-won scores of the times Ryohei had fought for his Family and family.

"Our Sun, our Ryohei," she said with a smile.

☀

“You have a week,” Verde said plainly to Ryohei, surrounded by bits of metal and computers flashing with crunching algorithms. “I’m recalibrating the Tri-Ni-Sette Machine to metabolise Earth Flames. Usually, this shouldn’t take too long but given the weight of the situation, we can’t risk any unforeseen malfunctions.”

Ryohei glanced at a screen off to the side, a progress bar slowly crawling, triangulating a direct trajectory to thirty years ago and then some.

“I suggest you get your affairs in order.”

Ryohei fought the urge to wring his hands, the scent of Namimori air so familiar and cool. He followed a street lined with apartment buildings that reached high into the sky, taking the places of what was once little, family homes back in his youth.

Ryohei turned into an apartment like all the others and rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, knocking on the fourth door.

Hana opened the door and frowned at Ryohei, her hand on her hip as she stared up at him. She looked worn and more than a little tired, hair unbrushed and clothes rumpled.

“Hana!” Ryohei greeted and wrapped the woman in a tight hug.

“Oh — let me down you oaf!” She scolded sharply, her feet kicking as she pushed his face away from her.

Ryohei grinned but let her slip out of his hold. She grunted up at him as she smoothed out her already wrinkled t-shirt.

“I hope you brought those dragon fruits with you. Kyoko’s got some killer cravings right now.”

Ryohei laughed and showed the bag hanging from his hand. Dragon fruits and salad dressing — specifically the vinegary Caesar dressing kind. Hana nearly deflated in relief.

Kyoko looked up when Ryohei and Hana walked into the living room. She was cradled in a plush armchair by the window with her feet propped up and her hand resting on the swell of her belly. Kyoko reached out as Ryohei approached, her face utterly bright with joy.

“Salad dressing!” Kyoko cheered, taking the bag from Ryohei’s hands and peering inside.

“Hello to you too,” Ryohei pouted and sat himself down on a footstool beside Kyoko’s chair. “Slow down, Hana’s getting you a plate.”

“Don’t need it,” Kyoko muttered and bit into the fruit like an apple. “Skin’s healthy.”

The woman then proceeded to take a swig of salad dressing and Ryohei had to look away.

One would think that Kyoko would crave everything sweet and sugary at a time like this, but it seemed that the baby wasn’t as much of a sweet tooth. They had more of a taste for salt and vinegar, and often it led to Kyoko crying until her tongue allowed her to eat sweets again.

“You’re looking about ready to pop,” Ryohei said, offering his sister a tissue which she ignored in favour of cracking open another fruit. “Do you have a due date yet?”

“A few more weeks, looking at late next month,” Hana answered for them, scooping up the skin scraps on her wife’s lap and putting the rest of the dragon fruits on a plate. “They’ve definitely got Sasagawa blood in them though, he’s been kicking poor Kyoko at all hours.”

“Maybe he’ll be a boxer like you!” Kyoko beamed, and like she remembered to be a gracious hostess, quickly offered Ryohei a salad dressing-soaked dragonfruit.

“No thank you,” Ryohei denied as softly as he could, he had set her off before when rejecting one of her offerings. In his defence, it had been ice cream and buffalo sauce.

“Like I’d let that happen,” Hana scoffed and let herself flop down across the couch, wheezing with great fatigue.

“Rough night?” Ryohei asked, tossing a pillow at Hana for her head.

“Hana’s been doing overtime to clear her calendar for the baby,” Kyoko hummed. “And she’s been doing my share of some of the chores.”

“Your feet and legs are double their normal size, woman. You are not walking around more than you need to,” Hana mumbled into her pillow.

Kyoko smiled and cooed wordlessly at Hana, making happy little noises as she continued to gorge herself on her weird concoction. Hana glanced at Kyoko out of the corner of her eye and smiled back in a way she only showed to Kyoko.

Ryohei felt his chest grow warm at the quiet affection shared between his sister and sister-in-law. It was times like these, Ryohei was glad that Hana had left him to be with Kyoko. They were so happy now.

It had taken a while for Kyoko to accept Hana, she had always been a loyal little sister. But Ryohei was glad she had listened to him.

They were good for each other, brought out the best of each other. And they loved each other, deeply and warmly. Kyoko was better for Hana, and Hana was best for Kyoko.

It had stung when Hana had told him she thought they should see other people, after all, he had been so sure she was ‘the one’. But his baby sister got to have her happy ever after, so in the end, it all ended well. Ryohei had come to terms with the fact that, maybe, love just wasn’t for him.

And he got a nephew out of it! So all well that ends well, he supposed.

Ryohei bit the inside of his cheek. He just wished he got to meet them, even just once. Got to see his sister holding her baby, got to spoil them utterly rotten…

“Speaking…Speaking of overtime,” Ryohei cleared his throat, and Kyoko looked over, all too attuned to her brother’s tones. Her brother, and ex-Sun. Kyoko was very good at reading Ryohei. “The Vongola… I’m going on a trip.”

“What kind of trip?” Kyoko asked carefully.

Ryohei smiled thinly, trying to pick out his words carefully. “A long one. Far away too.”

Hana had sat up at this point, her hands in her lap and her eyes sharp — but she remained quiet, letting her wife and Sky speak for both of them.

“Are we allowed to contact you during your trip?” Kyoko asked. It wouldn’t be the first time Ryohei had to drop off the map for a while, gone incognito. He had a very forgettable face when he managed to keep a cap on his energy.

“No,” Ryohei admitted, “No, I won’t be…able to talk to anyone.”

Kyoko frowned more and started to pet her belly absently, a kind of self-soothing habit she had formed in the recent months.

“When will you come back?”

Ryohei paused for a moment too long, staring past Kyoko and out the window behind her. Out at Namimori.

He wondered if his nephew would attend Namimori Middle, if they’d walk the same paths he and Kyoko walked so many times. He wondered if they’d use the same classrooms — or if Kyoko’s prediction would come to be and they’d join the boxing club just like their uncle.

“Ryohei,” Kyoko pressed and he shifted his eyes over to her with a sheepish smile. “When are you coming home?”

Home.

“Not for a long time,” Ryohei said gently, and took Kyoko’s hand in his own when he saw that flash of panic in her expression. “This is a big job this time, Kyoko. Your big brother’s got a lot of work to do.”

“Ryohei—”

“But you’re a big girl now, Kyoko,” he smiled, “You’ve got your life together! You’ve got your Bachelors, you’re married, and you’ve got an extreme baby on the way! You don’t need your big brother all up in your business, getting in the way.”

“You can’t go. I’m having a baby, I need you,” Kyoko said, gripping Ryohei’s hand with a vengeance.

“You’ll be okay, you know that. You have Hana spoiling you, and Tsuna would bend the Vongola backwards to look after your every need. Mum and Dad are also just a call away — God knows Mum’s been ready for a grandchild, she’s just been scared it’d come from me!”

Hana snorted in the background. She had been a victim of the Sasagawa matriarch’s empty-nest syndrome twice now. The only difference was the first time around had been full of caution and warnings about the child being too much like its potential father.

“But I need you,” Kyoko pleaded, looking at Ryohei and trying to see in his face why he was leaving.

Ryohei grinned, stomping down a sting in his chest, “You haven’t needed me for a long time, Kyoko.”

She had cried for days when their Harmony had broken, withering away like a dried sapling under the sun. Their youth had been on their side, however, and their wounds had healed without so much as a scar. She continued life with her usual bright smiles and unrelenting optimism.

Like she had never even had a Sun. But Ryohei remembered.

“I’m gonna miss welcoming them with you,” Ryohei continued, looking to Kyoko’s stomach. “But you’d probably just yell at me for yelling or crying on the baby.”

“We’re already expecting one screamer, we don’t need another,” Hana sniped from the couch and Ryohei let out a laugh.

“Why do you have to go?” Kyoko asked, still holding Ryohei’s hand in a death grip.

Ryohei looked at her little hand in his own, small and adorned in a shining wedding ring.

“I’m just doing what I always do: I’m looking after my little siblings. My family will always come first. You, Hana, Tsuna, Chrome, Mukuro, and all the others. I’m going so that I can help you, as best I can.” Ryohei looked at her again and smiled reassuringly, pushing as much Sun and warmth into the air as he could.

It didn’t do what he wanted it to. Kyoko wasn’t his Sky anymore.

Her face turned a sickly shade of green and Hana quickly stood from the couch and pushed a cup of water into Kyoko’s hands, a small bucket under her arm just in case. Pregnancy was a finicky thing, and Flames had a history of making things just that little bit more complicated.

Ryohei smiled through it and pulled his Sun back to his chest, letting Hana’s Cloud dapple the space and sooth her Sky.

“But you’re leaving,” Kyoko coughed, wiping her mouth.

Ryohei looked at his sister and then looked to her stomach, full of life and potential. A child ready to take on the whole world and outshine any of them.

A dying world, slowly grinding to a halt.

Ryohei wouldn’t let that happen. Ryohei was going to hand over this world to that little life, and he was going to make sure they had as much time in it as they wanted. To play, make mistakes, love, grow and live.

Ryohei would always put his family first.

“Hey, Kyoko, Hana,” he began softly, and they both looked over. “Can you promise me that you’ll tell them about me? Extreme stories of their extreme uncle?”

Kyoko opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She wrung her hands in her dress, confusion and stress in her expression.

“We will,” Hana announced, her hand tight on her wife’s shoulder. “We’ll tell them everything. The time you pissed your pants in Elementary, when you climbed a bathhouse chimney like a damned fool, when you chased everyone who you thought would put up a fight. No embarrassing detail spared, you big oaf.”

Ryohei smiled.

☀

The Vongola Sun Quarters had always been rather modest in design. Embellishments and ornaments restrained to cornices and windows. When Ryohei had moved into the Sun Quarters, he had been told that Knuckles had been adamant about keeping the place humble and simple, and despite the many hands this room had been passed between, they had all respected its origins.

Furniture and personal taste had come and gone, but the bones of the room remained the same. No one had dared to paint the walls, or commission craftsmen to refurbish the fixtures. The only true change to the room over the centuries had been the electrical lights and security.

Ryohei was happy he could keep to the tradition. All his things were in boxes, ready to be dispersed to their next owners. The Vongola Sun Quarters were once again bare.

On his bed, Ryohei’s one luggage sat still open. He was packing everything he thought he’d need or couldn’t part with, everything and anything that could fit in one bag.

Clothes weren’t important, those could be bought again. What Ryohei packed were photos of everyone, carefully and painstakingly edited by Basil to ensure no Vongola alignments or dates were visible. Photos, keepsakes, first aid kit and underwear.

Ryohei looked through his diaries, seeing all the notes he had made for himself over the years and deciding which ones to take. What he wanted to remember the most, what he wanted to make sure would never slip his mind.

There was a soft knock at his door and Ryohei didn’t need to turn around to sense the presence of an aching Sky.

Tsuna stepped into the room and chewed his inner cheek, desperately trying not to look in any one direction for too long. He had never seen the Sun Quarters so empty before. It was a gaping reminder that Ryohei had only hours left.

“Hey, Tsuna!” Ryohei greeted, turning around and leaning back on his desk. “What’s up?”

Tsuna closed the door behind him and walked deeper into the hollowed-out room. He looked tired, his clothes rumpled and his hair askew. It made Ryohei frown a bit, but Tsuna spoke first.

“I… We need to talk about some stuff,” Tsuna uttered slowly, coming to a stop just a few strides away from Ryohei.

“Huh? Uh, sure, what stuff?”

Tsuna glanced at Ryohei's suitcase, full of photos and keepsakes. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe and recentre himself.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, flat and to the point. “Going to the past — Tabolt and Verde said you can't come back. Are you sure about this?”

Ryohei smiled at Tsuna and the way his hands were clenched at his sides. Tsuna was wound tight, nervous, anxious and confused.

“Yeah, I'm sure. This is important, we can't give it to just anyone!” Ryohei assured, and Tsuna looked at him.

His face was flushed, his eyes were red. Tsuna crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels, shoulders hunched.

“Are you sure about leaving us?” Tsuna asked, “Leaving our Harmony?”

Ryohei’s smile wavered, his hands clutched at the edge of his desk.

“Yeah,” Ryohei said again, voice soft in the quiet room. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Tsuna’s face pinched. Ryohei hadn’t even seen Tsuna make that kind of a face when he had been shot.

“I’m sorry,” Tsuna uttered.

“Hey, come on, little bro,” Ryohei soothed and pushed off from his desk. He crossed the room and grasped Tsuna by his shoulders. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“But I could have been better,” Tsuna whispered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know — maybe if I had tried harder, listened to Reborn more then—”

Ryohei smiled at Tsuna, at the Sky.

Not His Sky, but a Sky nonetheless. A Sky that, hurt and scared, had let Ryohei in and given him a home for years. Had given him a Family, a place to belong.

“You did everything you could,” Ryohei assured, and bent at the knees so he could see those eyes that had captured the Italian Mafia. “We’ve been together for an extreme ten years. Why would you apologise for that?”

Ten years under a Sky who did his best, who opened his arms — under duress or not — and that kept Ryohei close to his heart. A Sky who let Ryohei burn him for ten years.

How could Ryohei ever resent Tsuna?

“It’ll hurt,” Tsuna murmured, “You’ll be gone.”

Ryohei nodded understandingly, and then said, “But it’ll hurt less than it does now.”

Tsuna flinched hard. He didn’t deny it.

How could he? Tsuna couldn’t have known what was happening when he was young, fresh in chaos and Harmony. Tsuna had been so overwhelmed with his world all aflutter, there was no way he could have recognised where the fever was coming from.

Their Harmony was weak, corroded. Tsuna understood that now.

He wished he didn’t.

For all that talk of ‘Neo-Primo’, of ‘Oath Flame’, of ‘Vastest Sky’, Tsuna couldn’t even keep his Sun and brother.

Ryohei squeezed Tsuna’s shoulders and let go. Tsuna could still feel the brand of those hands, an uncomfortable heat that left him parched and needing the cover of his Cloud, the cool of his Rain.

Tsuna raised his head and Ryohei’s smile was still there, warm and unyielding as ever.

Their Harmony broke, and settled into ash.

Tsuna swallowed and Ryohei nodded slowly, because he knew. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt anymore, and Tsuna could feel it. The relief had drenched his body, leaving him cool and refreshed, like stepping into shade.

It hurt that it barely hurt.

Ten years — a whole decade — of knowing and loving each other. Ten years of fighting side by side, of the weight of the mafia, the world and life shared on their shoulders. Ten years of trying so hard to be a good Sky, a good Sun, a perfect Harmony—

Letting go was so easy.

It should have been painful. It should have hurt. It should have been like ripping out a part of their hearts, like prying the pieces of each other from their soul—

Like putting down a heavy burden. Finally lying down the boulder. Finally unlatching the chains.

Letting go was so easy.

Tsuna didn’t know when he started to cry.

Ryohei didn’t know if it was out of grief.

“You are my little brother, whether you like it or not,” Ryohei said, not a quiver in his voice, not a catch in his throat.

“Of course,” Tsuna agreed, and didn’t move to wipe his face when a tear tracked down his cheek. He sat in the misery, and tried not to identify where it came from. “Always, Ryohei. You’re family. Kyoko would kill me.”

Ryohei let out a laugh.

“That’s why I’m going, Tsuna,” he continued, and looked around at his room, stripped bare and packed up in boxes. “You, the guys, Kyoko, Hana, and the kids. You’re all my family. This machine thing is our last shot. I want to be there to make sure it happens.”

Tsuna blinked, trying to make another tear fall. His eyes had already dried up.

“I understand,” Tsuna nodded, hands clasped in front of him. “Thank you, brother.”

Ryohei grinned and threw an arm around Tsuna’s shoulders, jostling the younger man and pat his chest, “No worries, lil bro! Why don’t you go find Hayato and Takeshi? You’re looking less than extreme, and those two always fix you right up.”

Tsuna turned his head and buried his face in Ryohei’s shoulder, pressing hard and sure like he was trying to impress the feeling into his memory. Then he pulled back and wiped at his face, red and flushed, and Ryohei took his arm off him.

“I’ll see you at dinner then,” Tsuna said, standing in Ryohei’s doorway.

He looked bright standing there. Already, the sweat had started to dry, and that red flush had gone pink and receded. Tsuna felt cool for the first time in ten years.

“See you at dinner,” Ryohei waved, and the door clicked shut.

Ryohei dropped his hand and stood alone in the Sun Quarters. Somewhere down the halls, he heard the sounds of crashing in the Mist Quarters. There was a haunting silence everywhere else.

Everyone had felt it. The Sun was gone. The heat had ended.

They were free now.

Ryohei looked at his diaries, still strewn open across his desk. He walked over and grabbed one from two years ago, opened to the page detailing Kyoko and Hana’s wedding — He tore the page out. Ryohei looked for when Lambo graduated from Elementary school. He tore that out too. A series of logs about odd napping spots Tsuna was seen in during crunch time. Takeshi’s twenty-third birthday. Hayato’s existential crisis. Kyoya’s animal adoption phase. Chrome frantically dodging marriage requests. Mukuro using his illusions to create a haunted house for the kids.

Ryohei tore and tore, ripping pages out one after another. Then he took a pen, hearing the plastic crack under his too-tight grip and began scratching out all the names and dates. He couldn’t decide which book had the most memories, so he took it all. All of his most important memories stacked together in a disjointed, tattered and defaced pile.

He dropped the pen and let it roll off somewhere, looking at the pages and how high they stacked. Years worth of life condensed into a pile of paper, frayed unevenly at the edges and full of spelling mistakes.

Ryohei looked over to his luggage and pulled out one of his keepsakes: the bandages he had wrapped his fists with during the battle for the Rings. They were worn and speckled with bits of dried blood and sweat.

He unravelled one of the wraps and tied the loose papers together into a bundle. It bent oddly in sections, the knot was askew and he was sure the pages were going to be curved into some weird shape within time — it was a ragged stack of memories.

Ryohei tossed it into his luggage and snapped everything shut.

☀

Despite the fact that Verde had been hailed as the next coming of Da Vinci, he had never been particularly artistic with his machines. They tended to be brutalist in design, with sharp edges and geometric shapes. Function over fashion.

It left Ryohei wondering if he was seeing poetry where there was none, searching for light in the dark.

The time machine was massive. With two swooping arms of wire and metal plating that arched into the air. It was like an enormous metallic laurel, wreathing the platform that would send Ryohei far away and far ago. That machine against the backdrop of Autumn in full golden swing, framed by the orange and yellow trees that rowed the walls of a quiet valley, only made it shine more.

It looked magnificent. It looked terrifying.

“I trust you have everything,” Talbot said as Ryohei approached the machine, his hand clutching the handle of his suitcase.

“Yes,” Ryohei nodded, “And I got those fake IDs.”

“The forged identification, yes, that will certainly make life easier,” Talbot agreed, thumbing the side of his bird’s head cane. “And, forgive me for asking again, but you understand what you are getting yourself into, yes?”

Ryohei smiled at the old man, “Yeah, I know. I’m looking after my family, right?”

Talbot paused for a moment, regarding the response. Then he smiled with wrinkled lips and settled himself on the uneven ground.

“Indeed,” Talbot murmured.

Grass crunched underfoot and Ryohei turned to meet the many gazes of the Vongola Family, all of them dressed in black suits like they were mourning a loss. For a moment, Ryohei wondered if Kyoko would come to see him off, but then remembered that the baby wouldn’t handle altitude sickness well.

Tsuna stepped forward from the group, dew clinging to the toes of his shoes and making them shine with the machine’s light.

“Ryohei,” he began softly, then took a breath and spoke again, louder. “Where you’re going, to the past. You can’t take anything incriminating. Anything with a Vongola embellishment, I need you to return.”

Ryohei knew this was coming. He had at least hoped to keep Kangaryuu — but the emblazoned ‘VONGOLA’ that had been stamped across it said otherwise. Ryohei nodded and reached into his pocket, pulled out his Box Weapon and handed Kangaryuu over.

Ryohei glanced at his Ring, golden yellow and always warm on his hand. He took it off before he could think twice and, like it burnt, dropped it into Tsuna’s awaiting hand.

It happened faster than Ryohei could realise. The Ring, always so bright and vivid, dulled without notice. Then a soft light shone from within, just like all those years ago when it had been unsealed—

A simple, grey metal band with a shield pendant sat in Tsuna’s palm. Locked and sealed. Just as it had been nearly a decade ago back when they had battled for them against the Varia.

“After all, you truly are Knuckle’s true successor,” Talbot said gently.

Ryohei stared at the cold, contained Ring, and he felt his heart soar. He was Knuckle’s true successor. Even if he wasn’t Tsuna’s, even if he wasn’t Vongola, Ryohei was still Knuckle’s.

He shouldn’t be happy. He really shouldn’t and he knew that. But as Ryohei stared at that tightly sealed Ring once more, he knew he would never be forgotten. That once he was gone, whoever came next, whatever Sun came to take his Quarters, his Box, his Family — They’d never truly replace him. They’d never have his Ring.

Ryohei would never be forgotten. Knuckles would make sure of that.

Mukuro huffed from off to the side, a kind of snide, vindictive sneer to his expression. He was right, whatever Sun Tsuna brought home would never be his.

Ryohei shouldn’t be so happy.

“Calibrations are ready,” Verde called out.

“R-Right,” Tsuna snapped to attention, his eyes just as locked to the Ring as Ryohei’s.

Verde loudly scoffed from his place wrapped in computers and gestured for Ryohei to hurry up.

Ryohei swallowed his anxiety and walked the path between his family and all their allies, the machine aglow with a pale yellow light. The machine gave a soft clunk as he stepped up onto the pedestal, and Ryohei noticed how the air seemed charged, nearly vibrating as he inhaled it.

“Remember your mission Ryohei,” Hayato called out, his arms crossed irritably, visibly uncomfortable. “Find the Vindice, give them the info, get that machine built.”

“Right!” Ryohei shouted as the machine began to give a low, rumbling ‘whirr’.

“And remember what you promised me!” Mukuro reminded, the tone coming through gritted teeth.

“Of course!” He nodded, grinning through the nerves. “Of course, I won’t forget!”

“Ryohei!” Tsuna called out and Ryohei looked over. “Make sure that machine gets built! Please!”

Ryohei nodded, fists clenched at his sides. Then his family all bent at the waist, their Japanese heritage resurfacing with a vengeance as they all bowed their heads to their older brother and school-life ‘senpai’.

“Thank you very much!” They all said together.

Ryohei felt his eyes sting and his vision swim. He took a sharp breath.

“Take care of each other!” Ryohei ordered them and raised his arms in a large, boisterous wave.

The laurel’s metallic tips met high above his head, sparks flew-

Ryohei stood in a large field, with emerald trees and grass as far as the eye could see. His hands still raised to wave goodbye.

#khr #sasagawa ryohei #reborn #fanfiction #time travel fic #fix it fic #khr rare pair #leftnotright #ao3 #proof apollo wear hawaiian shirts

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aylaaescar · 8 months

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4, 22, 25, and 29 for Tysinno, please!! 🥺🥺💐✨

thank you so much!! he's my best guy 🖤🖤🖤

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

so yeah, the 13th birthday :') I don't know exactly what he was like growing up, but I do know that before it happened, he was comparatively more lighthearted. the loss of his mother and his father's growing depression took a toll on him, but he was processing it and dealing. the Maratis family was doing better. he wasn't a huge social butterfly or anything, but he was a happier, more outgoing kid until that night. his disposition took an understandable turn to the gloomy and macabre after that, and while he's not hurting as much as he was then, he's still far from the happy kid he used to be.

as far as other people knowing it, that one's kind of on a need-to-know basis in his eyes. I really doubt he would've told the Shepherds as quickly as he did (if at all, to this point) if he hadn't caused that disruption in the compound in his sleep, and his reasons for telling them were... a bit on the self-punishing side? he's felt guilty for what happened to Maj ever since the day it happened, and there was a part of him hoping for some bitter vindication in that the Shepherds would turn him away for what he perceives as his biggest crime. hoping for it, fearing it, same thing. his self-image isn't pleasant.

22. What does your character like in other people?

honesty and integrity, first and foremost! he prefers to be around people who are honest and open with their intentions, and absolutely with people that have good intentions. he's tactful and doesn't mind that, but he'd prefer to talk to somebody who'll tell him the truth even if it's ugly, instead of trying to comfort him with a nice lie. kindheartedness honestly goes a long way with him.

...and this one isn't a strict necessity by any means, but if you have the same dark/macabre sense of humor he does, that's a bonus lol. stuff like whatever the Blest equivalent of this is

25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

this one probably depends on his initial impression of you and/or the circumstances. he's quick to be suspicious of more unpleasant or suspicious strangers if there's something weird going on, and like... triple that if you're a noble, a Vice Guard, or work for the Autarcy. he's a lot more likely to give the benefit of the doubt to people who make a good first impression, are Diminished like him, or aren't really people in huge positions of power.

if he's close with somebody, he's a lot slower to suspect them of something malicious, and might need a third party to help him see the evidence past his bias.

that said, it also depends on what it is he'd be suspicious of lol, the above kind of fit for more serious stuff? if there was somebody cheating at a group game, for example, then he'd probably suspect everybody involved equally, but also find it funny enough that he doesn't care, if that makes sense?

29. What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

I feel like a younger Tysinno expected he would grow up to be a farmer like his own parents were. continue taking care of the Maratis family farm in Maj, you know? but in terms of what he dreamed of, I think he had a phase where he dreamed of being this infamous actor or opera singer or what have you lol. that one definitely did not come true, but adult Tysinno is happy for it; a life on stage would probably make him miserable lol.

he's also had a life-long dream of owning as many cats as he can. he's already got one unofficially! he's off to a good start.

#ask tag #snowthornes #SHOH blogging #OC: Tysinno Maratis #I'm so proud of myself for this not taking so long sdhfjk #death cw #a little bit

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sammygender · 29 days

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thinking about that bit in the s10 episode i just watched where dean (and sam but i think mostly dean) recounts john taking them to new york and how there was SO MUCH in it. everything made me feel so vindicated i love love looove when spn suddenly lines up with something ive been thinking about. so much there.

dean being 'really underage' so i was thinking like 15 (not that id even describe 15 as REALLY underage, but these are americans) and sneaking out to a sick rock venue... <33. coolest kid around i love him. i like the establishment that dean did do things like that - it both makes me feel happier for him and slightly vindicates me against the people who claim dean was more sam's parent than his brother. thats not true. sure, he raised him, but he also snuck out to go to bars and dumped sam at random places and acted like an idiot older brother. and im glad dean got to do that.

15 year old dean (or some other young dean) being intentionally gotten drunk and implied to be roofied or drugged or whatever by a bunch of girls who were immediately all over him... hello... thats AWFUL..... god he must've been such a looker and i like it when canon acknowledges that. i have this idea in my head of like. 'funny looking' kid dean who's about twelve when he suddenly graduates from funny-looking to like relentlessly beautiful by just growing perfectly into his features. dean is always so aware of the way hes percieved physically in any given situation and always uses it in this specific way, from flirting with every girl around to responding to male aggression by way of cops etc by also like fake flirting or pretending they're sexually interested in him..... i dont always know where i land on 'precanon dean did sex work' hcs but this is something that does intrigue me about it. plus the weird and very sweet protectiveness he always has about sex workers - also just watched that ep where hes like trying to talk the soul-wanting sex worker out of it. ANYWAY. and the extremely casual way dean recounts this like its just?? something that happens to him??? hello???

then dean telling john he'd embarrassed him and he hated him...... doesn't really stack with everything else we've ever heard of child/teenage dean, but it's kind of interesting to consider. i guess he was incredibly drunk/potentially drugged. also this is from dean's perspective, a dean who was intensely gone and probably barely remembers.

and then we get a classic early-seasons style moment where dean recounts something about john winchester and goes Ha! Classic dad! What a great guy! and sam's like Dude wtf?????? except sam isn't snarky anymore so he just does a Look. i mean come on dean. ten minutes ago you said 'john winchester isn't winning any parenting awards' and now you're saying 'he raised us right!'. Dude. You KNOW that is not true. sam also knows you know.

that being said. i like seeing a moment of john winchester just being... a human guy. taking his kids to new york bc they kept begging him to and seeing all the fun sights. scaring the hell out of a bunch of terrifying punk teenagers who got his teenage son drunk. its more interesting to me to think that john is, like, a decent guy, aside from the child abuse, and probably would've been a much better dad if it wasn't for the trauma and the hunting and mary's death (though. i have to say. The way he deals with it is still his character!!! Putting it all on your very young son and venting to him is still like. Not something that a hell of a lot of people would do, even if they got just as revenge-driven. i reckon that specific type of parentification/spousification would've still have happened to dean. mary would've probably done it too.). the young john we see seems like a cool guy and he has strong as hell opinions about his future self's parenting (admittedly while not knowing it's his future self, lol). i reckon, on one level, john and dean did actually really get on. that makes the awfulness of it all so much more interesting to me <3

this post is all over the place but like. what an interesting scene. ill replay it and actually talk about in more depth and a more structured way someday.

#livewatching spn #<- i should tag more posts with this #spn #oliver talks #i have so many john winchester thoughts and ill make an actual post someday

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vsaintsin · 11 months

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Hello, there! Just stopping by to hear a little about your WIP! What, in your opinion, makes your WIP unique? What makes your WIP stand out?

Thanks for stopping by! I appreciate it <3 Tough question, in a way. I saw this ask come through a while ago and spent the better part of my day thinking about the answer. I mean this response with all respect, and with no intentions to be back-handed. Hear me out.

I think part of the premise of Carlisle's circumstances both in the first book that's already out and in the second book that I'm currently working on is that sadly his circumstances aren't unique. Sure, he's set against the back-drop of science fiction, but assuming technology continues to advance and eventually reaches one of the points detailed in the story - life as currency and property, autonomy an infinite question - it might eventually become a form of accidental contemporary fiction, no matter how much I hope it doesn't.

Which isn't the point, and I'm blabbing. Hm. I think I'm trying to say that the premise may not be altogether original - though I don't see it as any one thing's clone - and the characters may be very similar to real people, but that's actually my hope. I put a lot of work into making the characters - particularly Carlisle - into a mirror, where somebody who needs familiarity in some suffering might feel vindicated or allied, even seen. Everything that happens in inspired by real events, but somewhat dramatized to fit the mold of the genre. Even the violence.

If I had to say what makes it unique or stand-out... I would hope it's me. I would hope to say the same of all writers. I see a lot of people struggle with the concept of originality, and some others who've dealt with a college prof who says, in his ancient and bitter way, that everything has been done. It hasn't exactly, though. We all exist together, but very separate. Your perspective exists and is true - even if it's only your truth - and therefore colors everything you write, but also say and do.

There are some cliches and tropes that I do avoid intentionally - I fear they might cheapen the message for some people, and leave the lessons a little hollow. Nothing against the cliches, but I know I have trouble hearing something genuine out of them these days. It's like saying the same word too many times in a row - it starts being noise, with minimal comprehensible meaning.

At the end of the day, I think the answer is "me", for whatever that's worth. I think we all fear we aren't original, and chase this little spark that we're afraid we don't have. But we've got it. And it's just who we are. Bring that to your work, and it should always be unique. I do like and appreciate this question though, because it made me think about my work in a way I hadn't yet. It brought me back to what "unique" was and what I was trying to do when I started writing, and who I was trying to reach. I just hope that anyone who needs somebody finds Carlisle, and that he gives to them everything he gave to me. So maybe, it's him that makes it unique.

I can promise I'll think about this question on and off for a while, so I may have an adapted answer in the future? Who knows.

Thanks for popping in! I appreciate it sincerely. I hope all of that made the gentle sense I intended - it's been a very long day, and I'm very sleepy.

#booklr #lgbt fiction #ask-a-thon

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oysters-aint-for-me · 1 year

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a month ago today, december 19, my dad got a positive covid test.

he got paxlovid and got better within three days.

then he had a paxlovid rebound.

then i got covid.

then i got better about a week and a half later. (i got pretty sick but i did not get paxlovid because i’m too young and not at risk for severe illness)

then my mom got covid.

she got paxlovid then she got better about five days later. she hasn’t had a rebound yet but she’s still in the masking phase so we’ll see.

that bring us to today, january 19, when my 95-year-old grandmother got a positive covid test.

all of us are 4x vaxxed/boosted. i tried to follow the rules. it’s just so hard to do that perfectly. and also hard when your family thinks you’re overreacting when you remind them to follow the rules. i’m so fucking tired of this. i’m tired of being a frustration to others when i want to follow the rules. i’m tired of always fighting with myself about whether or not i should insist on following rules because for so much of my life, the end result has proven my anxiety wrong, and nothing bad happens when i don’t follow the rules. i’m tired of not allowing myself to trust my instincts because i’ve been raised to believe that my anxiety disorder makes all my instincts suspect. and—if you’ll allow me to go wide with it—i’m tired of everyone saying that “no one predicted covid would get this bad!”, “no one thought that covid would shut down the world for any longer than two weeks maximum!”, “no one could have foreseen that the pandemic would fundamentally alter the basic infrastructure of almost every aspect of society for more than three years!”, “no one could have possibly known that donald trump would win the 2016 US presidential election!” because i absolutely predicted all of those things, knew them deep in my soul, but statistics and professionals were not generally on my side and so i was labeled a worrier, and although i feel vindicated it’s hard to live in a world in which it’s clear that your worst nightmares CAN come true, partly because most people don’t even have those nightmares and thus aren’t even worried. oh god. ok. this is quickly turning into an irrational magical thinking/OCD spiral so i’m going to stop but oh my god. oh my god i’m tired of covid.

#i don’t have ocd to be clear at least not diagnosed #but i definitely have episodes especially relating to Thought Crimes #and Hopes and Expectations etc

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falloutcoys · 11 months

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longer thoughts on the first 3 episodes of w.bg, but not more coherently organized

I went in mostly blind, only knowing there were timeline shenanigans and what was in the description on the podcatcher and honestly glad, because I'm loving even just the few twists we've had so far!

Love love love the fucked up games horror subgenre, maybe because I watched Saw played Heavy Rain way too much as a kid but I digress. So when you combine that with time shenanigans, well, it's literally my dream come true.

Mike is so right that if you have this type of time altering tech you should have language to speak about it in a better way than we can. Another tense and a way to say 'now' that implies something deeper than your place in time are necessary. I think I'm gonna run into these problems during my writeup haha

At first Mike's affect was not meshing well with me but that went away by episode two. That's when I really got hooked. Hearing the voicemail was the first "oh shit" moment and I was on the edge of my seat. Then hearing his whole deathbox he built and that it ONLY TOOK HIM 3 DAYS TO WORK UP TO IT!!! I was so glad to have that reaction vindicated later by Cannonball because Mike acting like that was soooo long to deliberate made me thinking I was overly squeamish.

Speaking of squeamish, I have never had a podcast give me suck a visceral reaction. I was driving and I thought I might have to pull over because I was feeling sick. I kept squirming and curled my left arm up without even realizing at first lmao. I think it was just the... coldness in which he spoke about the gory details of doing it to himself?

So interested in the scoreboard and what's going on there. What's Mike gonna choose as a codename, or will he? How many people are playing? If Mike is #1 after two games and Cannonball has only done three (if he's telling the truth, which I don't think he is about everything), how many games are there and how far has any one person gotten? In fact, how long has the game been running (if that is even a meaningful question considering time shenanigans)?

So many more questions and with how many episodes there are, I'm sure not all will be answered and those I get answered will only lead to further questions.

I feel like having our main character be... a slightly shitty guy (by his own words) is a really good perspective we don't see too often. He isn't particularly cool, at least so far, so it isn't that edgy sort of anti-hero. He's just a dude who can be an ass sometimes. And is kind of wildly okay with chopping his own limb off, but not as chill with cop killing I guess. I think my line in the sand would go the other way but, okay Mike.

I definitely should have called the challenge being cop killing but I was still pretty icky feeling from the arm chop, and for some reason when I read the title and saw pig my brain kept thinking of that episode of Black Mirror

God I'm hooked. I should write but I think I will listen to episode four instead

#very glad this won #I will eventually listen to it all! but this is a very good one to get into ASAP #sams lbs #my posts

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troglobite · 2 years

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okay i am loath to admit this to any medical or psychological professional in my life but i do feel i need to say

my therapist asked me how i’m doing w having received an Official Diagnosis for hEDS, and now having MCAS too (which hasn’t been Officially Diagnosed but like honestly, we’re fully on the right track here, and it takes like a skin sample to test to prove it)

and my answer to her was kind of funny but true

i’m VERY happy--honestly normal for anyone trying to get a difficult diagnosis who’s known they might have it, etc.

but i’m also feeling like the 12 year olds all of us are looking at like “....i am. so happy for you. [quietly seething but not in the 12 year old’s direction]”

y’know what i mean? i KNOW ppl have taken YEARSSSSSS to get an EDS diagnosis even though it was BLATANTLY OBVIOUS bc they had an even more serious type of it! drs who wouldn’t get them a genetic test even though other family members had it--or worse, other family members definitely had it but had never been diagnosed, so they were like “well no one in your family had it so i won’t test you” like dO YOU NOT SEE THE PROBLEM YOU’RE PERPETUATING HERE?!

anyway.

so point being i feel like the 12 year old going around talking abt how their parents have tried out 3 pronoun sets for them, how they’ve changed their name four times, how all their friends are queer, etc., and wearing like badges and pins on their bags in MIDDLE SCHOOL.

with all of the adults looking at the 12 year old like--heartwarmingly happy that it’s possible &that this child isn’t suffering, but also so so so bitter that it couldn’t happen for them.

so that was the answer i gave her

and it is TRUE. i do feel that way. i sometimes feel that way re: queer and trans stuff, too. i was never beaten up or anything and i just avoid coming out to ppl who won’t take it well, or i keep them out of my life--and i have the privilege of doing that, y’know? and for the most part ppl have been chill abt my pronouns. mostly.

so anyway that’s the Big part of it.

the other part of it that i haven’t voice aloud is....

this diagnosis is satiating a very weird childhood thought/feeling/urge/desire of mine that i haven’t thought abt in a long time.

i think it also kind of happened when i realized i was autistic.

basically--

i feel vindication and joy and a thrill at there being something...idk any better way to say it. something “kind of wrong with me”. just a little bit.

y’know what maybe i should talk abt this in therapy bc this could probably be related to uhhhhh--....well a lot of things. succinctly: thinking i don’t deserve positive love attn and support most of the time.

so having something diagnosed about it is like HA-HA! I HAVE A LEGITIMATE REASON TO ASK FOR SUPPORT AND ATTENTION!

there’s also this weird thing of like

oh i do get to complain abt my body hurting! and that matters! and it’s not an embarrassing thing of me just ~being out of shape~ or ~doing something wrong~ or whatever! like

something is just WRONG with my body’s collagen! like it don’t work right!

and so both autism and hEDS (and also MCAS) are like--

no, no. you ARE miserable ALL THE FUCKING TIME. and you ALWAYS HAVE BEEN. and that’s fine. and like we [diagnoses] can point at all of this stuff for you and be like “no yeah, it’s actually legit, i promise”

i’m sure this will wear off bc it has for autism. or at least i’ve hit a different wall w being autistic.

but idk i just have this THRILL of being like. no something is wrong w me but not in a scary way, so i can just. have attn and support abt it.

i feel weird and guilty for feeling this way but as i’ve recently discovered, i have MANY unresolved and unexamined issues around this sort of thing. and i imagine it’s not all that uncommon.

also though i’m fully aware that even with diagnoses most people don’t get the respect or support or concern or empathy and compassion that they would deserve even without diagnoses.

it’s just an internal thing for me. it’s a weird--okay i feel like i’ve read abt other ppl having this fantasy as a kid.

like breaking an arm and getting all the attention in the classroom. some kids lowkey fantasize abt that, right? i was one of them.

and this kind of. scratches that itch in a way.

so this is where i’m currently at with Processing It All.

and mostly what i’ve done is just recommend my dr to ANYONE in the area who needs help w any type of EDS or MCAS or even POTS (which i don’t have) bc i want to just make sure everyone can get a diagnosis and speak with a dr who is as proactive, respectful, helpful, kind, generous, and knowledgeable as this woman i’m seeing now.

like i truly cannot overstate how amazing and helpful she’s been, and i’ve only had 3 appt with her.

ANYWAY so that’s it. i just wanted to. put these feelings somewhere and think abt them out loud. i haven’t been able to talk abt it with my mom & the fear abt sharing this w anyone in certain positions in my life is like--i don’t want them to think i’ve somehow faked this, y’know?

although it’s p fucking hard to fake a 7/9 on the beighton scale with several other points in favor of hEDS as well as a “variant of uncertain significance” on a gene that codes for collagen so like lololol

ANYWAY

me, hunched over my laptop bc my stomach’s upset so i got to sit up straight and my shoulder pops and my upper back sounds like bubble wrap lolololol

ANYWAY

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fm-r-iznow · 9 months

Text

OMNISPHERE 2

I JUST DOWNLOADED WOW!!!! and in comparison, to Native Instruments. a big difference. I'm going to try not to sound like a complete hater because Karma is a rough thing on the inner regions that will mess you up totally.

Okay I Purchased Komplet solely for the purpose of getting Abynth 5

but when I got it I did not know you had to set up kontakt since anthing else never needed a player anyway. I've bought plugins before, and it never needed these things before. Long rabbit hole depression story later. I somehow figured it out on my own. which nobody explained to me beforehand.

which I know indicates I'm not very bright. Perhaps...

anyway

I buckled down and bought Omnisphere despite what I heard some guy on youtube said Omnisphere is overrated. Now coming from a guy who makes Beats. He says. I would imagine he needs a more minimal Pallet of sounds. comprisingly of drums dominantly which is fine. I do not scoff, and another guy who he is in a back and forth "war" about the community and what not. and the guy is doing a complete.

hate on bringing their own children into it. with accusations of evil demons and hating on each other's women, I think. and then the other guy stated omnisphere is now deleted from his computer because CPU issues and so on. and Later in another video He does a video where he reinstalls Omnisphere.

As entertaining as this can be I find it dizzying.

One article on google said you needed like 200 GBs to install the software for content and to record with it.

and you may need to use a an external drive to store these plugins.

from todays experience this is not true at all.

And honestly, I wish I did not buy the Komplete 3 years ago. It really fucked me up emotionally spiritually and physically. which I can't blame it entirely on Native Instrument people. In the end I blame myself for not completely moving on which I tried and it wayed heavily on my mind and was reminded by this mistake often by my significate other.

In comparrison. having what I paid for three years ago I feel vindicated. Now comparing the two companies.

Komplete. Its good I feel like now I didn't waste my money now and I can stop kickng my ASS for it. everything works and now I need to figure out the drum machines.

Now looking at things is an Eyesore. I'm 53 yrs. old and I wear glasses. and I find the menu a little too small and my eyes strain and tear up. If this was not I problem I would not be in the market for other software. also They discontinued Abynth 5 which I think is amazing and my favorite plugin. which is fullfilled my expectations of what it is.

So today I got The Omnisphere 2 because I wanted to get the Bob Moog tribute plugins. but I also wanted the Omnisphere. reason being getting into Hard Synths was another rabbit hole for me. with with novation. but thats another story all together

basically, I don't have space for Moogs all over my office so the plugins are my best option until I get a house.

So Omnisphere off the bat is very intuitive as to what.

I want to record. The sounds are amazing. I've already recorded 3 test tracks just to see what I'm dealing with.

The look and functionality of it is great on the eyes and I'm wearing glasses. I don't need to get a 50-inch screen to see what the hell I'm doing. and the sound menu is easy to read and access. whereas Kontakt is confusing. despite the fact it does work and is competent. and yet Omnisphere has better sounds. at this point I don't see why Kontakt is so necessary to a DAW. because a daw never needs Kontakt to be able to use any plugin before. this is what

really messed me up.

Another issue I was worried I got the Omnisphere would I need Kontakt, would it open in my Daw? and would it take a big chunk of GB's? Well the 200 GB scenario is only true with Komplete I had 800 plus GBs on my laptop now down to 630 GBs I thought I needed the whole thing when I only needed Absynth and other ambient sounds.

I'm very happy about that it only took about 64 GBs and honestly the sounds are richer fuller and you can shape it with in the preset itself which tickled me pink. I thought I needed to add other reverbs delay. which does work with Komplete but seems more functional and precise with Omnisphere.

It basically boils down to preference. it the realm of cars. Komplete is more like a gas guzzling Hummer with the promise of Tattoos babes chic Jeans baby gap the gap, pottery barn, flip flops, crocs, a Pitbull a bad ass status with bells and WHISTLES. with a man bud or smooth bald head and lots of finger tattoos.

Omnisphere is more fuel efficient sturdy reliable. there are no tattoos unless you want them and no perfectly groomed beard and and your involved in a realistic loving relationship.

I love the Abynth but the others is lacking to my expectations. which I will buy Plasmonic from the creator Brian Clevinger. later. I'm also getting other Plugins as well. so, You can have both if you want.

You probably have more money than I do and that's not a shocker. Im just glad I don't to spend more money than I have. what a bad Lesson I had to learn. Very bad extremely bad so bad, evil depressing bad.... and bad bad bad andfilm score 2 more times BAD PI

You can both and more. Just don't let the fan boys tell you otherwise.. Im sure they got paid for their review . I for one paid for everything and lost then gained it back somehow by divine intervention.

get them both if you like. if you need to make beats get the drums you like. if you like filmscore get Omnisphere

#ambient music #OMNISPHERE #electronic music #synthesizer #Brian Clevinger

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