#after losing an election to someone he had called to for help.

[ordowrites]

wants, desires

cw: afab reader (pronouns not used), slight not sfw content, mentions of masturbation (m), mentions of oral (f. receiving), mdni, minors do not interact, pining, yearning, fantasizing, self indulgent. slight fluff. no established relationship. slow burn. the reader is not the Traveler, the reader is a Vision user. slightly ooc. fade to black.

word count: 2,781

diluc month!!! i love this man and i wish to squish his cheeks between my hands. tbh for as much as i love to imagine him suave, i feel like he's the type to long and pine before awkwardly try to romance someone. i'm sorry for the length of this fic, i got carried away.

Diluc is a gentleman, he is known for his polite way of talking, and perhaps his standoff-ish personality but he is, all around, a gentleman. Raised in nobility, Diluc was taught how to behave and act accordingly, even if he found some of the rules to be stifling. He remembers his father once telling him that there are even proper and acceptable way to court someone (man or woman, so long as he did it properly, it would be alright).

He never listened to those rules much because he always figured he wouldn't need to court someone, after all, arranged marriages were still very common and everyone had assumed he and Jean would be marrying each other (until she turned down his spur of the moment marriage proposal with a polite smile and multiple apologies). After his father died, Diluc had decided that his life was too dangerous to bring someone else into it. Nobody has seen the hell he'd seen and he wishes to keep it that way.

Until you came into the picture, your smile rivaling the sun and your laugh infectious. You came here from Fontaine, is what you explained, showing your encased Vision. You worked for The Steambird for awhile but decided to move back to your late parents home nation of Mondstadt, because your father had always spoke so wistfully of it. So, you'd quit your nice and cushy reporter job and joined the Adventurer's Guild and are now able to work at its branch in Mondstadt.

He'd memorized every detail you shared with him, because you were just so fascinating to him. Diluc hated the way Kaeya's arm slung around your shoulders as if the two of you have been buddies your entire lives. Rosaria barely graces you with attention, simply electing to enjoy her drink with two extroverts intent on disrupting her peaceful night. You do not care for any rude putdown, allowing it all to roll off your shoulders.

When Kaeya becomes too drunk - supposedly - to carry on a decent conversation with you, Diluc picks up the slack. It's awkward and uncomfortable at first. Your name is sweet in his mouth, he tastes it and swirls it around some and fears that if he speaks it, he may taint it.

Interacting with you was a different level for him, it was strange because you were the first one in his life to make him lose his footing, make him lose his breath, and make him nervous. But not in the same way Adelinde makes him nervous when she places her hands on his hips and gives him a disapproving stare when he tracks blood and mud on her clean floors, not in the way Jean makes him nervous when she challenges some of his more intense ideals. This nervous was different, like if he messes up, that's it. His words are carefully chosen, he practices your name every morning, trying to get used to saying it in hopes that if he sees you around, he can call out to you like it's a normal, every day occurance.

And he does see you around sometimes, in the green uniform assigned by the Adventurer's Guild (truly, you would look much better in the clothes he could provide if you were his-) but you're always too busy to stop and engage in conversation. This does not stop you from waving at him, acknowledging his presence when he accidentally stops and stares for a little bit too long. Sometimes he gawks like a teenage boy and he can't help himself.

Diluc is a gentleman, he knows better than to have thoughts about you - it feels wrong when you creep into his mind too late at night and leave him wanting. His hand around his cock, his fingers working quick as he guiltily thinks what you might look like undone because of him. Wonders what you might taste like, how your legs would quiver around his shoulders while his tongue laps hungrily at your folds, and wonders what you'd sound like when you call out his name in desperation.

When those nights happen, he can't even look at you in the eyes when he sees you next. Diluc knows all of this is normal, but it doesn't feel normal for him.

He has your favorite drink memorized - you aren't a heavy drinker, alcohol wasn't much of a thing in Fontaine unlike coffee and tea. So, always one drink, nothing heavy, but it you like it sweet and fruity. Unlike Kaeya, he lets you have a free drink every once in awhile, tries to relish in the way you look at him with wide eyes and a bright smile. Tries to ignore the way his heart pounds and his breath quickens when you thank him. (You could ask him for the entire world and he will try to get it for you)

Diluc tries to recall all the lessons his father gave him on romance and dating, realizes that many of those lessons are a bit outdated and perhaps, would not work on someone like you. He considers asking Adelinde before deciding that he didn't want the third degree from his head housemaid (who is more like a mother to him).

So, he elects to watch you from afar - learn your likes and dislikes because talking to you is somehow harder than fighting a Mirror Maiden or being involved with a particularly difficult business partner.

And it dawns on him how stupidly mundane and normal it is to have a crush on someone. Diluc wasn't ever sure he was capable of normal. He can't do things normally and he's come to accept this at some point.

By some happenstance, he learns of your favorite flower and orders a bunch of them to be sent to you - anonymously, of course. Although, he wishes he could have your attention when they arrive at your doorstep from Fontaine, wondering if you're happy to receive them or not.

"Someone sent me flowers," you mention to him, one evening. Lately, you've been coming around more and more without Kaeya with you. You've made your own little group of friends here, easily fitting right in and he always tries to imagine where his place would be in your group of friends and it always spirals to him as your partner, your beloved. Your husband. "The note that came with it was very sweet, but I wish that it wasn't anonymous so I could thank them. I've been missing Fontaine recently."

Diluc swallows the lump in his throat, clears his throat - a strange nervous habit he has.

"Would that not take the romance out of it?" When you give him a strange look, he feels his face grow a bit hot. "I mean, I hear some of the maids talk about how they'd love to have a secret admirer, something about it being more romantic."

"Master Diluc," you gasp. "Are you, perhaps, a secret fan of romance novels?"

"Did I not just tell you I only hear these things from the maids?"

You smile a bit. "You're hard to tease, you know that?"

"My apologies." You blink, confused and he clears his throat again. "So, who do you think might have sent you those flowers?"

You open your mouth to say something, possibly another teasing comment before deciding against it. "I'm not sure," you admit. "I don't often have romantic entanglements. I had one partner back in Fontaine and it ended up as a disaster. We were colleagues and it was so stupid." You sigh. "He was never the type to buy me flowers."

Diluc makes note that he will spoil you proper with flowers when you become his.

After a few weeks, he orders you another batch of flowers - this time a mix of your favorite and another common flower from Fontaine. Rainbow Rose, pretty pink roses that he pictures would liven up the manor, and be in abundance at the wedding the two of you could have.

No, he has to tell himself. You can't get that far.

"What is on your mind tonight?" Diluc asks as he makes your favorite drink. You look at him, as if trying to read him. "That secret admirer of yours again?"

"Yeah. Flowers, again." You say. "No note this time, which is disappointing." You rub your forehead. "Master Diluc, what would you do if you have the feeling some anonymous person was trying to court you?" Diluc gets the feeling you're fishing for answers.

"That has never been a concern of mine." He tells you. "Most women who try to catch my attention are never discreet about it."

"You make it sound like that's the worst possible thing in the world."

"If they were not doing this simply so their fathers could secure a better business deal with the Dawn Winery, I suppose I wouldn't mind it." He doesn't dislike it but none of those women ever really hold his attention, although he's entertained a few of them in his time, the courting never went beyond a few meetings before they'd decide he just wasn't for them.

"You don't strike me as the type to like being given that kind of attention," you admit. "Ever the evasive and strange Master Diluc. Perhaps I have you pegged all wrong."

"Oh?"

"Mm," you say as you take a sip of your drink. "Rich men tend to throw their money and power around to garner themselves a romantic partner. Honestly, it's gross."

"Well, I have never seen the point in doing so." Diluc answers, bluntly, feeling a bit insulted you'd even thought of him that way. "So tell me, then, how do you like to be courted?"

"Well, for starters, as lovely as the secret admirer thing is, I prefer if someone can actually tell me if they have feelings for me," you inform him. "Anonymous flowers once is nice, twice will have me wondering if they even respect my time."

"Ah - would you like other gifts then?"

"No - well, I don't - ugh, that's hard to answer." You push your hair back and he loves the way it falls around your face. He loves that, even though you don't get drunk, you can get a bit more relaxed and looser with your words as you drink. "I mean, I'd like if the person who is...trying to court me as you say, would just tell me and do it properly."

"I see."

"Have you never been in a romantic relationship before, Master Diluc?" Maybe you do know and he should come clean. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbling.

Once, he thinks. Jean and I had this whole fake wedding when we were kids. But that doesn't count.

"Not really, no."

"Oh."

In this moment, he desires to lean over the counter and kiss you. See what you taste like with remnants of that fruity drink on your lips, if you would get angry or if you would lean into the kiss. He desires for his hands to wander, for you to invite him to touch you even further -

"Aw, drinking without me, my delightful friend?"

"Evening, Captain."

"Kaeya."

Diluc is a gentleman, and he is quite the heartbreaker, he knows this. He'd sent many noble women crying by accident - rejection hurts or his indifference is worse. Adelinde would scold him many times for it, reminding him that he should still be considerate of their feelings. But it's never his fault that they get upset for being told he's not interested.

With you, he has fantasized about kissing you, dramatic love confessions (because apparently those are a thing in romance novels from what he's heard Hillie and Mocco say as they worked), or just simply telling you, but it feels wrong to simply confess.

This pining is getting him nowhere, and he worries about sending you more flowers and earning your ire instead.

So, at the advice of Adelinde - after he tried to lamely claim it was Kaeya who was looking for the advice - he starts to write you letters. Many, but none quite fit what he feels. He can give you all the flowery words in the world, but they are not succinct enough. Diluc isn't exactly the best at words, not like Kaeya, who can have both men and women swooning very quickly. He's always held the attention and engagement of crowds and Diluc finds himself envious of that.

Finally, he elects to do something so stupidly simple.

He writes you a letter in the dead of night, exhausted from a days work, requesting if he could court you properly this time around. And he sends it.

Because of course he did.

Because that's what a proper gentleman should do, right?

You are late for your weekly visit to his tavern, and Diluc finds himself wishing he had Charles manning the bar tonight instead of him. Though why should he be acting like a lovesick schoolboy? He is a grown man.

An hour goes by, and you're not in your usual spot and he fears he may have driven you off with that letter that never should have been sent in the first place.

When you do finally arrive, it's an hour before closing and you look beat. But your smile, when you see him, is still as radiant as the sun (though perhaps that's him imagining things, he doesn't know anymore).

"You're...late." Diluc observes as you half slump in your seat, bag dropping to your side. "Are you okay?" Perhaps you haven't read his letter and that's why everything is almost relatively normal.

"I'm okay," you finally answer as he starts to make your drink. "Sorry I'm here an hour before you close, it's been a long day."

He sets the glass down in front of you. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

"Tsarvitch is such an asshole," you grumble. "Tsarvitch? More like Tsarbitch."

"Yes, I hear he can be a bit difficult." You lapse into a silence, watching him. "Do you wish to talk about something else?" You reach down, grabbing your bag and pulling out an envelope with the Winery's wax seal in blue. He has to look away.

"I received this letter from the Dawn Winery," you tell him, pointing to the blue wax seal and the return address. You pull the letter out of the envelope, and it's clear you've read it multiple times since he sent it a week ago. "From someone asking if they could properly court me." He doesn't want to look at the contents of that letter, he was deliriously tired when he wrote it. "Who, at the Dawn Winery, could have sent this?"

"I'm-"

"How come you didn't sign your name?" Diluc can't answer that. He doesn't remember what was going through his head. "My answer, though, Master Diluc, is yes. You can properly court me."

His heart pounds in his chest as he meets your eyes. Of course, the answer was so simple - Archons, why couldn't he have done this in the first place? A few whole months wasted, when he could have spent it with you in his arms.

"Are you sure? I'm-"

"I'm sure." You interrupt. It's not often someone of nobility seeks to date someone who is not a noble, but he can't help it. Diluc just hopes that they won't eat you alive, though he has a feeling you can handle your own when it comes to the more judgmental types. He may have to protect them from you.

"In that case," Diluc says, hoping he won't scare you away. "May I kiss you?"

"Always."

He delights in your answer, moving to step outside of the counter so the damn thing isn't in his way so he can fully and properly enjoy you. He cups your face between his hands, bending down some and pressing your lips together. Soft, sweet - Diluc is a selfish man sometimes and he longs for more when you break away.

You whisper something as he pulls you back in for another kiss. Your hands wrap around his shoulders and entangle in his hair. A small part of him longs to lift you up and take you on the counter, but he needs to take this slow. He is a gentleman after all, properly court before bringing you to bed with him.

Yet, you refuse to let the kiss end this time around, chasing after him.

"I want you," you whisper. "Diluc."

"No dinner first?"

"Ugh, you can make me breakfast instead." That was all he needed for him to quickly close down the tavern. Diluc is a gentleman after all, and it'd be rude to keep you waiting.

#diluc #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc imagines #diluc x fem!reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #ordo.text #ordo.txt #diluc ragnvindr

[star-girl69]

Ultraviolence

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: animal death, blood, knives, mentions of sex, death, murder, dead bodies, mentions of drugs, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Nineteen - The Horses are Coming

Chapter Nineteen - The Horses are Coming

—-

2021-

While Natalie is off getting her big idea, Shauna stares at Adam’s dead body. That’s what his name is, you’ve now learned. Adam Martin, a struggling artist shacking up with a married woman.

Blood stains through the sheet you had placed over him, a little red blooming flower in the midst of his cold, neutral apartment.

Someone knocks on the door- but it’s more like banging, so Taissa takes the hand she was biting from her mouth and opens the door.

She scoffs and turns around.

Misty walks in carrying a bag of what you can only assume be cleaning supplies.

“Well, aren’t we a bunch of Gloomy Gusses. Who died?” she laughs, placing her bag on the counter. “No, but, seriously. Who is this guy?”

She leans down and pulls back the sheet, revealing a pale Adam Martin, his eyes still open.

“Misty. Really?” Shauna asks, looking at Natalie, unimpressed. “This is your big brainstorm?”

You sigh. “Tell me who else is gonna get us out of this?”

“Yeah,” Nat sneers. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I think what you mean to say is, ‘Hi, Misty. It’s so great to see you after all this time. Thanks for swinging by and helping us cover up a murder.’”

“Hi, Misty,” you say, wanting to stay on her good side. Adam Martin is not worth trouble with the law. She smiles.

“Why does everyone keep using that word?” Shauna asks. “It’s not like I woke up this morning and thought, ‘Hmm. What am I gonna do today? Oh, I know, I’m find out my boyfriend is a creepy stalker and stab him to death.’” Taissa shoots her a look, silently saying to calm down. “I’m going to prison. I’m going to prison for the rest of my life.”

“No, you’re not. None of us are. As long as you listen to me and do exactly what I say. Okay? So, if you haven’t already turned off your phones-” she grabs her own from her pocket, hitting a few buttons- “I suggest you do that now. Where’s his?”

“I-I took it home, and I put it in my safe.”

“Okay, as soon as we’re done here, you’re gonna go home. You’re going to wipe it and destroy the SIM card. All right? And do the same thing to yours,” Misty nods to herself, studying the body. “I didn’t see any security cameras. Did anybody- neighbors- see you come in here?”

The few gathered around Adam’s body shake their heads.

“I-I don’t think so,” Shauna says after a moment.

“Okay, great! Then we’re just destroying evidence. Shauna, you’re the best with a knife, clearly,” she laughs, adjusting her glasses. “So you’ll handle the body.”

Silence around the circle.

“I mean cut it up.”

“Oh, God, are you okay to do that?” Tai asks.

“Yeah,” Shauna says after a moment.

“I’ll help you,” Nat says, sending Shauna a look you can’t help but frown at.

“So, then, it’s just us three on clean-up duty,” Misty smiles. You can’t help but cringe at the dead body. “Whew. Boy, he sure was a gusher, huh?”

—-

“Woah, I just got the craziest case of déjà-uv,” Misty chuckles, wringing out a bloody cloth in the sink.

“And here I thought the worst thing that was gonna happen to me this week was losing the election,” Taissa sighs.

“Really?” you ask, scrubbing hard a small bit of particularly stubborn dried blood. “I mean, you were always the smartest out of us. I thought you would win.”

“Yeah. And I voted for you,” Misty says. “And I only registered so I could get jury duty.”

Tai stands up and chuckles.

“When do they call the results?” you ask, standing up as well.

“Tomorrow,” she shifts on her feet, and the bathroom door creaks open. Shauna walks out, carrying a bright red bag at arms length. “Oh, God, is that the…?”

“The rest is, um, draining in the tub.”

“Okay, perfect. So, when that’s done, put it in his suitcase and bury it out at Hacklebarney Park. I’ve got a shovel in my trunk which you can borrow. I do want it back, and I also took the liberty of packing up seine of his clothes, some books and toiletries and stuff. And I’ll take this with me and get rid of if. That way, if anyone comes looking for him, it just looks like he went on a trip.”

“Then after that? What if an animal digs him up? What if a hiker’s dog sniffs him out?” Taissa says.

“Well, it won’t matter. I mean, torso’s are useless. Duh,” she chuckles. “That’s the whole point! You only have to worry about the head and the hands.”

“So, what’s the plan with those?” Nat asks, who you hadn’t seen walk in. She’s always been haunting you.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

“Misty,” you sigh, watching as she wipes her hands. “If we both weren’t covered in blood, I would hug you, you crazy bitch.”

She only smiles, proud.

—-

1996-

You and Natalie eventually made your way back to the cabin in the early hours of the morning, catch another hour of sleep in a more proper bed- a pile of blankets on the floor, rather than the cold ground.

Metal clatters near the fire as the two of you, Jackie, Coach Ben, Tai, Van, and Misty waited for the girls who had participated in the hunt to wake up and come back.

You watch Misty as she stares harshly at Ben, more so just glaring at him- not even trying to hide it. Your place your hand over Natalie’s on the porch and move closer to her, and she looks over.

“Hm?” she hums, letting her fingers press against yours against the hard wood of the porch you sit on.

“Misty’s insane,” you mutter, and she follows your gaze. She lets out a small snort, and you look back at her with a smile.

Why even have a heart if it’s not meant to get broken? Why even have a heart if it’s not meant to stay with you through the ups and downs? Why even have a heart if it’s not going to love her?

Slowly, the girls come through the woods and into the clearing around the cabin, covered in dirt and smeared makeup, their dresses torn and dirty. Lottie leads them, abandoning the weird crown she had been wearing last night.

“Hey, I, uh, I boiled some drinking water,” Coach Ben says. “If you guys are as hung over as I am.”

“Has anyone seen Jackie?” Shauna asks.

The porch creaks behind you. Everyone turns to find Jackie standing in the doorway.

You’re still not exactly sure what happened to her last night, but she looks scared- even still.

She crosses her arms as soon as she realizes who it is.

The two of them stare at each other, Shauna’s ruined makeup giving her a ghost-like look.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Jackie says after a moment, her face curling up into disgust. “To any of you. I mean, what the fuck?” she laughs.

“Yeah, like you’re so innocent,” Mari mutters.

“Hey! I’m not the one who went completely fucking insane last night.”

“Right, no. You were too busy screwing Travis,” Van says, sarcastically, and you notice that there’s no bandages or anything on her face.

“You had sex with Travis?” you ask, looking up at her and frowning. The entire night, it hadn’t been a secret that Jackie had wanted Travis, but you didn’t think that anything was going on between them was reciprocated.

Jackie rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Why is it any of your business?! He chose to have sex with me, okay?”

“Well,” Natalie starts, “You’re fucking announcing to everyone, Jackie, so I think that makes it everyone’s business.”

Jackie looks between the two of you and rolls her eyes.

“So, what? The two of you start fucking and decide you’re better than everyone else? Because you’re not. Travis was a lame fuck, Y/N is a two-faced bitch, and you, Natalie, are a slut-”

You look over a Natalie, who seems more pissed off than anything, but you’ve spent so much time with her in the wilderness- you can see the sadness in her eyes.

And as much as you tell yourself that it’s just Jackie taking out her hunger and embarrassment on everyone else-

“Hey!” Coach shouts. “I’m sure all of us did stuff last night that we regret, on account of the shrooms, but there’s no need for any of this. I think that the best thing for us to do is-”

“Wait, wait,” Shauna says, and you notice the confused looks on everyone’s faces. They must not know. And you didn’t know either, not until Natalie told you. “Shrooms?”

“Okay, yeah,” Van sighs, and you can’t help but look at Misty out of the corner of your eye. “That makes sense.”

Natalie places her arm around your shoulder, casually, and you find that it’s the easiest thing about this day. Touching her. Being with her.

“Oh, shit. The broth,” Tai sighs.

“You drugged us?” Akilah whispers to Misty.

“No. I didn’t.”

She stands up and takes a step forward.

“Okay, yeah, it was an accident. T-they were meant for Ben.”

“Oh, my God. Do you have any idea how crazy you are?” Mari asks.

“They were my mushrooms. And you stole them to put in your stupid soup. Besides, you know, none of this would have even happened if he wouldn’t have tricked me into falling in love with him!” she’s breathing heavily by the end of her speech.

“Oh, Misty, would you-” Coach Ben says, cringing.

“Wait. Stop!” Lottie shouts, and then you all hear it.

Something moves in the brush of the forest, rustles the trees ever so slightly- and if ever bring else wasn’t still, you would have thought it a gust of wind.

“Do you hear that?”

Everyone turns, and you and Natalie stand, listening to the rustling become louder, get closer-

“Holy fuck!” you screech, watching the bear emerge out of the forest, watching Natalie’s eyes light up in terror and blood lust.

The girls all start running to the porch, back into the cabin, and Natalie turns to run inside.

“Travis has the gun.”

Natalie looks over at Taissa, her eyes wide.

“What the fuck do you mean he has the gun? Where is he?!”

“We saw him,” Akilah says, and you look at Natalie, and she looks at you- and you get a suddenly flash of the night before.

And I-I wanna die with you, Natalie. I wanna die with you.

“Shauna,” Lottie whispers, standing in front of the bear in her white dress. “The knife.”

Shauna hands her the knife after she looks between the blade and the bear.

Lottie takes a step forward.

The group erupts into a small chorus of her name, a prayer, over and over again, telling her don’t.

But she doesn’t listen, and you watch Lottie, for some reason something nagging in your head, like the beginnings of a headache.

“We won’t be hungry,” you whisper, feeling like you should have said it ages ago.

Natalie grabs your hand and squeezes, hard, once then twice.

“Shh,” Lottie says, and the bear lets out a low snark as she steps forward, bordering on a roar.

Lottie and the best walk towards each other, until they meet. Until she’s close enough.

The bear lays down before her, onto the ground like a puppy dog. How could something so vicious and wild remind you of something like that is beyond you.

Lottie stares at the beast for a little longer, before raising the knife high, and bringing it down on the bear’s head.

It screams, as much as a bear can, and the pain in its voice that you know isn’t pain like you know makes tears well in your eyes.

Blood drips down the bear’s head like antlers.

Lottie steps back while the beast lets out a few more labored breaths, before it all stops, and the forest is silent again.

Your mouth waters.

—-

taglist:

@sweetdayme4427 @dreaming-for-an-escape @peachydokii @happysparklingshadows @zhivaxo @maraudeerrs @karsonromanoff

everything taglist:

@emilynissangtr

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

[melishade]

Number 38

This ask game

Dark Timeline Epilogue

Part 28: Ending

Mikasa continued staring at the statue before her in the quiet hours of the early morning, adjusting the travel bag slung along her shoulder. It was in a rather quiet place: in the desert of Fort Salta, but the camp that was set up near the area was not too far from here. It was an hour by foot. That was nothing in comparison to the hoops she had to accomplish in order to get to this very spot from Paradis. But she did experience some unexpected kindness. Onyankopon had introduced her to the Hizuru clan, remembering information about what Yelena had told him about Mikasa being descendant from the royal bloodline. She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with that, earning a modest laugh from the new emperor: Kenshin. Someone did tell him that she was there during that battle that decided the fate of their world. Mikasa was afraid of the attention that would come with that knowledge, but Kenshin was kind to keep that information between them. But he stated he and Hizuru's survival were forever in her debt, and promised to pay her back however he could. She just asked for a ride to Fort Salta and a ride back to Paradis.

But still, the statue bothered her. It was actually some type of angel with wings, slaying a demon that was supposed to be Shockwave. They did make the demon have one eye like Shockwave did, but it didn't look nearly as terrifying as the actual titan. It wasn't even made of metal, it was human skin.

Mikasa sighed. She wasn't going to lie to herself; she still had nightmares of almost being taken by Shockwave before Eren made that dangerous bargain.

"Mikasa?" Mikasa blinked at the familiar voice calling out to her from behind. She turned and saw Optimus walking up to her and the statue. He looked better and healthier. His armor no longer looked faded or discolored. He got his proper repairs. However...Mikasa looked up to see that Optimus' right optic was now replaced with a patch.

After they had defeated Shockwave, Wheeljack and Arcee had managed to use his resources to contact Cybertron. There was initial tension between them, what with the communication signal being from a Decepticon warship, and Optimus being alive. But once Optimus picked up the Star Saber, the tension and hostility was met with relief and jubilation. The Autobots have and still help out with the repairs on this world, but Optimus was receiving medical treatment on Cybertron, and when he elected to not return publicly even after he received it, they all knew what that meant:

Optimus was tired. He had been for a long time, and losing both Eren and Megatron seemed to finally be the last straw. He elected to live peacefully despite a few pleas from his old comrades, but they ultimately respected his decision. However, He did send a letter to Hanji, promising to return for any planned reunions, and today seemed to be that day. The Autobots and the humans of Paradis still continued to repair the whole world, Paradis and the mainland, building an era of peace and healing, without the one responsible for putting an end to Shockwave's life.

"I was expecting you to be on the island," Optimus remarked.

Mikasa turned back to the statue. "I found some help to get me here."

Optimus stared at the statue, and Mikasa couldn't help but glance back to see a look of disdain on his face. Seems he also hated the statue. She looked back at the engraving at the statue and sighed. "The Battle of Hell and Earth." Seemed fitting enough.

"It's been four years since we've seen each other," Mikasa began.

"...I am sorry," Optimus apologized, "I needed time."

"Don't be," Mikasa reassured, "I didn't want to help out with rebuilding at all. It shows how selfish I am."

"Mikasa, you made an unfathomable choice," Optimus retorted, "You more than anyone needed time alone."

"Maybe, but Armin lost his friend too, yet he's still helping," Mikasa shot back.

"I think we both know that a life of diplomacy and publicity was not meant for you," Optimus declared.

Mikasa let out a small smile. "Guess so." The Ackerman then looked at the Prime. "I'm sorry."

Optimus raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"...you did not get a chance to say goodbye to Eren," Mikasa answered, "I took that chance away from you."

Optimus noticed the sun was rising in the east and turned his attention to that. "Eren and I had many conversations prior to Shockwave's proposal. And I am proud to see how much Eren had grown."

"But you still did not get to say goodbye," Mikasa retorted.

"I know, and I mourned that loss in private," Optimus confessed, "But it seemed that Eren died without any regrets."

Mikasa remembered that. After she had decapitated Eren, his severe head just looked so at peace. Even before the impact, she saw his expression fade to peace. But...

"...you looked more heartbroken when it came down to Megatron," Mikasa couldn't help but say. It was probably out of line, but she was curious. She had noticed the way Optimus wept over him, even after he unceremoniously ripped his chest opened and ripped out a purple shard from his corpse before blasting it to dust.

"If there is an afterlife for humans, I'm certain that Eren will be rewarded for his hard work and sacrifice," Optimus explained, "I have no doubts and concerns for his well-being. Megatron is a different case. He severed his connection to the Allspark that all Cybertronians possess when he put dark energon in his body. He belonged to Unicron. I pulled it out in one last attempt to save his spark, but...it is a pitiful attempt I do not know will have worked until millions of years later when my spark returns to the Allspark."

Optimus' shoulders slumped. "I will forever live in a perpetual state of fear and anxiety, wondering if my actions to save my brother were for naught."

"But weren't the two of you enemies longer than when you were brothers?" Mikasa asked bluntly.

Optimus couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I suppose family is complicated after all."

“Do you forgive him?” Mikasa asked.

“Hm, I suppose that is a tough question,” Optimus admitted, “I am glad that I was able to say my goodbyes to him and see that he has truly change. I just wish we had more time to discuss.”

Optimus felt his spark ache as he remembered Megatron’s sad smile, dark energon leaking from his mouth. “I wish we had more time.”

Mikasa look back at the statue, the sun now reflecting off the bronze and making it shine in the early morning, but it was already beginning to rust to green. “Eren said that to me too. He wanted more time to make up for how he treated me. Not intentionally but Eren always had a one track mind. Always looking ahead.”

A seagull flapped its wings landed on the wing of the statue. “I want to see him again.”

Optimus saw silent tears streaming down Mikasa's face, prompting him to kneel down to her. He scooped up the grieving woman in his servos before holding her close to his chest. Mikasa let out more wrecked sobs, covering her face with her hands. Optimus continued to let her cry, and the woman cried until the sun was now completely over the horizon.

"Sorry." Mikasa wiped her tears, feeling ashamed for crying in his hands.

"It is alright," Optimus reassured, "You have every right to shed tears."

"I think-!" Mikasa sniffed a little, "I think we should go and see the others. They said they would be at the camp."

"If that is what you wish." Mikasa yelped when Optimus stood up, with her still in his servos. He placed her on his shoulder, and the Prime began to walk away from the statue towards the camp. Unbeknownst to them, the seagull sitting on the statue flapped its wings before jumping off the statue and flying after them.

As Optimus continued to walk, the desert ground started to show signs of life, with patches of grass coming into view. As he walked closer, the grass connected together, until the desert was now a field of grass. When they arrived at the camp, Mikasa noticed someone giving instructions on how to build a new home. The structure was actually made of wood instead of fabric.

"Armin," Mikasa realized as Armin beckoned a few people to bring the wooden beam to a particular spot. "Armin!"

The man stopped and turned around to see Optimus lowering Mikasa to the ground. Armin bolted towards Mikasa, and Mikasa ran at him at full speed. They met in the middle and embraced each other with smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes. Armin let go of Mikasa and waved to Optimus with excitement, the Prime giving a polite wave back. Optimus heard a cry of joy behind him, and turned to see Hanji riding behind Levi's wheelchair. The captain holding on for dear life while Hanji was cackling with delight. They jumped off the back of his wheelchair and ran up to Optimus, hugging his servo when he kneeled down once again. Hanji then started rambling and pointing to their own eyepatch, saying that the two of them matched. Optimus turned his attention to Levi and saw the one-eyed Ackerman smile at him. Just a little bit.

The seagull landed atop the unfinished building structure, watching intently at the sight of the reunion before it. They laughed and chatted with one another, while the others in the camp were just excited to meet Optimus for the first time. The seagull wordlessly jumped off the wooden structure and flew off into the sky.

(A few cameos here and there and a message of sorrow and hope but yeah. #45 has been asked but everything else is free game.)

#attack on prime #transformers prime #attack on titan #snk #aot #asks #tfp #shingeki no kyojin #ao3 #send me asks #mikasa ackerman #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime #tfp optimus #eren jaeger #megatron #tfp megatron #what if tfp shockwave was in aop aka the dark timeline #maccadam #macadam #hanji zoe #levi ackerman #captain levi #dialogue #dialogue prompt #dialogue prompts #armin arlert

[spicysix]

now i don't hate California after all

“They arrived at the beginning of fall, and yet California was sunny, hot, and colorful. Jonathan saw it all gray. He hated the sun, the heat, the dryness. Hated how he was always sweating, bothered about the weather, about the place, about the people. Everyone was so nice, and cheerful, and happy. He hated it. He was miserable. Argyle was nice and cheerful and happy. He was sunny and warm and colorful. Jonathan hated him at first.”

rating: T

warnings/tags: it's a Jargyle fic, friends - there's weed. jonathan's POV, bisexual king johnny-boy byers, black cat VS golden retriever energy. he's just a lil grumpy guy :)

word count: 4k

author's note: HAPPY JARGYLE JURSDAY! and happy pride! 💛🏳️‍🌈 this is the first of a few fics i have planned to write and post this month, all with queer relationships. absolutely random note: I based Lenora Hills off of Barstow-California, based losely on the location shown on Murray's computer and the overview of the town. fic based on a song of the same name by my queen of queens, Carly Rae Jepsen. hope y'all like this, and hope i made justice by my dearly beloved stoners! 💛

↳ ao3

Jonathan hated it at first.

Of course he hated it. How could he not? It was his whole world changed from night to day. Seventeen years of his life packed in a single morning into a few boxes into a truck across the whole country. Away from the few friends he had, away from the girlfriend he loved, away from all of the only things he ever really knew.

Jonathan feared it at first.

Of course he feared it. How could he not? His mother was alone, no husband, no boyfriend, no friends. His sister was alone, no boyfriend, no friends, no father. His brother was alone. He was alone. All they had was each other. What if it wasn’t enough? What if they were alone forever, thousands of miles away, and each others’ companies didn’t suffice?

But he also understood. How could he not? It was safer. A fresh new start, away from the dangers that haunted them, the ones that found them and the ones still lurking. Far away enough, hidden enough that they wouldn’t be found again. His mom would figure it out, Joyce always did. They could adapt, they could find new friends, they could still call and send letters to the old ones. They could go back for spring break, or for summer, or the ones left behind could come visit. It could work.

Doesn’t mean Jonathan liked it. Jonathan hated it, actually.

They arrived at the beginning of fall, and yet California was sunny, hot, and colorful.

Jonathan saw it all gray.

He hated the sun, the heat, the dryness. Hated how he was always sweating, bothered about the weather, about the place, about the people. Everyone was so nice, and cheerful, and happy. He hated it. He was miserable.

Argyle was nice and cheerful and happy. He was sunny and warm and colorful.

Jonathan hated him at first.

Saw that guy, first day of school, wearing a ridiculous shirt with more colors than the human eye can capture. The baggiest shorts Jonathan had ever seen, and they had a different psychedelic print on each leg. Fucking rainbow socks with hideous square-print Vans. He attracted all the attention around and yet, somehow, people didn’t seem to care about him one bit.

He was everywhere, too. Not just at Jonathan’s Math, Science, English and History classes, but at his woodworking elective as well. He shopped at the same grocery store that sold the snacks El loved, at the same farmers’ market Joyce got the best fruits, at the same craft store with Will’s favorite items, he worked at the best pizza place in town. Jonathan couldn’t escape him if he tried.

It took them a while to share their first words. Woodwork elective, Argyle needed someone to help him with a big project he had — it didn’t work, at the end, and he cut the huge wood plank into smaller pieces and made smaller things. For some reason, he saw Jonathan with a scowl on his face, pure disdain of how colorful and cheerful Argyle was, and decided to ask for his help.

Jonathan might’ve hated the guy, but he was raised well and polite. There was no actual reason for him to hate the guy too, so he helped. And hoped to never have to talk to Argyle again after that.

Of course that didn’t go as he hoped.

Argyle, who was once just a dude in the background of every scenario Jonathan walked into, was now purposefully centering himself in front of Jonathan’s lenses (his metaphorical lenses, because his actual cameras were kept in his bedroom. He couldn’t find it in himself the desire to take pictures of Lenora, its dry hot deserts and cheerful colorful people). Argyle talked to him, constantly, sat by Jonathan’s side at every Math, Science, English and History class, chose Jonathan as his woodworking partner from then on. Was Jonathan’s shopping buddy at the grocery, called out to Jonathan at the farmers’ market, gave Jonathan tips on what to buy for Will, delivered the Byers’ pizzas personally every time they ordered.

As they reached the end of the year, the weather cooled down a little — nothing compared to what they had back home in Hawkins, of course. But it was easier for Jonathan. It rained a little too, which helped with the dryness. People went for neutral tones and colors, and the sun didn’t bother his skin as much.

Argyle was still just as colorful, warm and sunny. Jonathan hated him. No one else seemed to notice him.

Will and El still didn’t seemed to have find friends too, which didn’t help with Jonathan’s anxiety and hatred. He was worried all of the time. About himself, about his siblings. His mom was doing fine at least, it’s been a while since Jonathan had to worry about her, thankfully.

“My man, you gotta chill a little,” Argyle said one day as they were leaving their woodwork elective, somehow noticing Jonathan’s tension.

Jonathan didn’t talk a lot, Argyle did most of the talking. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Have you ever tried smoking?” he asked.

“How would nicotine help besides getting me an addiction?” Jonathan countered.

Argyle clicked his tongue, “Not regular smokes, man. Nature’s goodies,”

“The devil’s lettuce?” Jonathan asked, and Argyle cackled loudly. Jonathan had never seen him laugh so hard. It wasn’t even that funny. Jonathan smiled just a little at the sound anyway.

“That’s right, man! Have you?” Jonathan only shook his head. “You wanna try? I bet it’ll do you some good, you look so pent up all the time, man.”

Jonathan didn’t know how Argyle knew that. Not like he had seen Jonathan in any other state if not pent up to know the difference. Jonathan’s small, rare joyful moments always happened at home. When Will was excited about something at school, when El was excited about a letter from Mike, when his mom was excited about a sell. When he was excited about a letter from Nancy. Those have been scarce.

Jonathan shrugged as an answer to Argyle’s offer.

“Well, if you ever feel like it, I can set you up.” Jonathan liked that Argyle didn’t pressured him.

They parted ways at the parking lot. Argyle was always driving the Surfer Boy pizza van. Jonathan’s car was dying a slow agonizing death, and he had been fearing the day the car would stop working.

That day had arrived.

Jonathan tried to ignite the car while waiting for his siblings to show up from wherever they were. But it wasn’t working, the car wasn’t starting and Jonathan hit his head on the steering wheel a few times with all that pent up anger inside him.

“Jonathan, you’re gonna get a hole on your forehead,” Will spoke as he knocked at Jonathan’s window.

“The car won’t start,” Jonathan complained, leaving the vehicle and checking his wristwatch. “Mom might be able to come pick us in between calls, maybe. This piece of shit.” He turned around and kicked the front tire. El giggled behind Will, Jonathan didn’t think it was funny.

“Hey man, I can get you and the younglings back home. I know where you live,” Argyle showed up from somewhere, Jonathan hadn’t noticed he was still in the parking lot.

“You know that sounds creepy, right?” Will asked. “Who the hell are you?”

Jonathan almost laughed, “He’s the pizza delivery guy, and he’s also in my year. Argyle, these are Will and Jane, my younger siblings.”

“You don’t look like a surfer boy,” El commented, noticing Argyle’s Surfer Boy visor. He’d probably head to work after school.

“And I am not one, little friend. Couldn’t hold myself standing up on a board, not even for a miracle. Maybe sitting down, on a pool, not on the ocean with the waves. But then it wouldn’t be surfing, now, would it?” Argyle said, that cheerful happy huge smile of his. Jonathan huffed, El seemed amused by the answer. “Shall we?” he asked, already heading for the pizza van.

“I should get the car towed first. I’ll call from the public phone over there,” Jonathan said and did as he said.

Argyle entertained Will and El as Jonathan called and waited for the towing, and as he talked to the towing guy when he arrived. He asked for the car to be taken to his house instead of the garage, because Jonathan didn’t have the money to pay for a fix. He’d have to save up, or try and do the fixing himself.

 He sat at the front with Argyle in the Surfer Boy’s van, Will and El went in the back and asked Argyle all of the possible questions to ask someone who works at a pizza place. He didn’t seem to mind answering them all. They also asked a lot about his hair, and Argyle told El he’d give her tips to grow her hair long and pretty like his. She looked radiant at the promise.

Jonathan kept it to himself all of the way back, but all of the rambling from his siblings and his colleague didn’t annoy him. They seemed to like Argyle, and that made the dude ease his way a little further into Jonathan’s own heart. That’s how it worked, isn’t it? The way into Jonathan’s heart was always going through his family first.

When Argyle stopped in front of the Byers’ house, Jonathan’s old Ford was already there, and he paid the towing people as Will and El entered the house.

“I can come pick you guys up tomorrow if you want,” Argyle offered when Jonathan went back to the passenger window to thank him for the ride.

“I don’t wanna bother,” he said.

“Nah, man, don’t worry, it’s all good. I’ll be here tomorrow then. See ya, dude,” he said and just took off.

Jonathan stayed there a little while longer, staring at the street where the van had rode by, confusion all over his face. That guy was the weirdest guy he had ever met. But he wasn’t so bad after all.

And then began their new routine. Argyle would always pick them up — most days on the brink of being late — and they would have all their classes together, and Argyle would drop them off after school. He kept easing his way in, and at some point Jonathan started easing his way out of the cave he had dug for himself, and Argyle wasn’t the one talking all of the time anymore. He didn’t seem to mind listening.

Jonathan talked about Nancy, and how she wasn’t sending letters that much anymore. Their plans to go to college together, and how Jonathan wasn’t feeling it as of lately.

Jonathan talked about his dad, and how he was an asshole.

Jonathan talked about his mom, and how she was working all the time, and how he had to be a responsible figure for his siblings.

“They’re twins, are they?” Argyle asked once.

“No, Jane’s my… well, sort of half sister. Her dad was a close family friend, and my mom adopted her when he passed, it’s… a long story.”

Jonathan didn’t talk about the Upside Down.

“They kinda look like twins, though. Wonder twins.” Argyle said, smiling. He didn’t ask. Jonathan was thankful for it.

Jonathan took Argyle’s offer for some weed one day, and after that it was… well, conservatives would call it ‘downhill from there’, but Jonathan finally felt at ease. He liked getting high, liked how his mind wandered away, how his fingers felt a little numb, how the bright colors didn’t bother him for once. How he started seeing some beauty in them.

Argyle’s clothes were still just as colorful, and he was just as warm and sunny. They smoked together, they laughed together, he talked to Jonathan and most important, he listened to him.

The worst of it all?

Jonathan didn’t hate him anymore.

Well, maybe not the worst. Maybe it was for the best.

Nancy and Jonathan broke up through the phone late November.

They didn’t call each other a lot. There were a bunch of reasons. Joyce worked on the phone, so it was busy most of the time. When it was free, either El or Will wanted to talk to Mike, and they could go on for hours. Bills could get expensive. And Nancy preferred the letters anyway. Jonathan thought the letters suited her well.

But they broke up through the phone. Maybe it was for the best. Not to taint the beauty of their past love letters.

Jonathan could hear the frown in her voice, and the tears. She could probably hear it just the same in his voice. He loved her, he did. But long distance was hard. And she wanted to go to Emerson, and Jonathan didn’t. His dream has always been NYU, and that dream might be all the way across the country very far away from him, but he could still dream about it. And Lenora Community wasn’t that bad, and Argyle would be there, and so would Joyce and Will and El. And god knows Jonathan couldn’t leave them, his family. Not even for the girl he loved. Not even for his dreams, much less for hers.

Argyle took him to an old junkyard and they smoked more weed that they ever had and they played ‘golf’, aiming the tiny balls into the old cars’ windows and whoever shattered more glass would win. Jonathan had a feeling Argyle let him win on purpose.

Argyle took him to Surfer Boy’s and baked a pie just for him and paid for it with his employee discount and sat across Jonathan on the table and told him insane stories about the kitchen staff and Jonathan had to hold his laughter or he would choke around a slice of pepperoni.

Argyle took him home in the van — Jonathan hadn’t fixed the car, because he didn’t have the money and because he didn’t have to, because Argyle picked them up and dropped them off and the kids liked him and Jonathan didn’t hate him either. As Argyle parked by the Byers’ house, he placed his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, looked him straight in the eye and said:

“Plenty of other midwestern fish in the midwestern sea, man.”

Jonathan wasn’t so sure what to answer to that, so he just chuckled, left the van and went inside the house. Peered through the window as the Surfer Boy’s van took off, some weird dancy reggae loud coming from the stereo. He smiled to himself.

Christmas came, no colorful lights hung up on the Byers’ house.

Argyle gave him a coupon for a month’s worth of Surfer Boy’s pizza. Jonathan didn’t think they’d exchange gifts, but he ran as soon as he could to the little shop he knew Argyle got all his weed items from and brought him a new bong. Argyle loved it and they debuted it together on the back of the van, looking down on the town from the desert.

Some pine trees were decorated and the colorful lights on them weren’t as scary as they would be at Jonathan’s house. He didn’t hate them as much there. Argyle’s shoulder was pressed to his as they shared the bong, and his skin was warm and Jonathan tried not to think too much about how his lips were touching the same place as Argyle’s lips did when pulling in the smoke.

New Years Eve came, and Joyce wasn’t too mad about Jonathan not spending it with the family, not once he told her his plans. Him and Argyle traveled to Santa Barbara, to a New Years Eve Luau, of all things. Argyle had a bunch of friends there — Jonathan was his only friend back at Lenora. He wasn’t bothered by that. He could use some other friends too — Argyle was his only friend back at Lenora.

They smoked, of course, and they listened to music and Argyle even danced with a few other guys. He wasn’t too terrible. He tried to make Jonathan dance too, of course that didn’t happen, but Jonathan was content to just watch. It took him by surprise, that realization: he was content. The moon was in her full glory, it was weirdly cold for a night in California, the sound of the waves were soothing, Argyle’s dark brown hair flew around him and his dark brown eyes twinkled by the fire, and Jonathan was content to just watch him.

Some friend of Argyle lived there and he and Jonathan crashed at the dude’s living room pull-out, heater on blast and Argyle’s back pressed to Jonathan’s back helped too, because the guy was always so damn warm.

Argyle let Jonathan put on some of his cassettes on the ride back to Lenora, and Jonathan sang out loud along with The Clash and the Sex Pistols, and Argyle bobbed his head to the rhythm even though he didn’t seem to like that genre of music, and he said: “These dudes are kinda pissed at stuff, man. They suit you, and all that pent up anger of yours.”

Jonathan reassured him: he wasn’t as pent up, or as angry anymore. Argyle smiled wide at that.

School started again and even their woodworking teacher noticed Jonathan’s change of demeanor and came to tell him how happy he was that Jonathan was finally adapted to the move. The teacher kinda hated Argyle — well he was a menace in class, and his projects were always terrible ideas — and Jonathan wanted to tell the teacher he should thank Argyle for that. He kept his quiet, though, but Argyle seemed to understand the funny look Jonathan threw his way after the pep talk.

Jonathan took his camera — that same one Nancy had given to him on Christmas of ‘83 — out of its box for the first time mid January. Some biology project, and he decided to take pictures to illustrate his work about the local low desert shrubs. Lenora High also had a photography room, and it was better funded than the one in Hawkins High, and once Jonathan revealed his photos and showed them to Argyle, he looked incredibly admired, and asked Jonathan to take some pictures of his mushrooms — of course his project was about mushrooms. He payed Jonathan back in pizzas, of course. Jonathan didn’t mind.

Apparently Argyle gushed about Jonathan’s photos at work because later that month he had a gig with Surfer Boy Pizza’s marketing team. He was also booked for the opening of that roller skate rink downtown. And some early-thinking students hired him to take graduation pictures for them when the time came. Word ran through school and he joined the Yearbook staff, and oh god the school paid well. He could even fix his car if he wanted to — but he didn’t. He liked the van.

He used the money to buy more film, and he used the film to take pictures for himself like he used to. His passion was back, and suddenly he saw so much beauty in the California sun, deserts, colors. He saw beauty in the junkyard, broken, abandoned cars with windows crashed. He saw beauty downtown, the colorful storefronts and the busy colorful people passing by. He saw beauty in the suburbs, kids with their bikes reminding him of home but in a nostalgic way instead of the heartbreaking way he used to miss Hawkins when they had just arrived in Lenora.

Argyle, who was once just a dude in the background of every scenario Jonathan walked into, was now purposefully centered in front of Jonathan’s lenses — his actual camera lenses, and Jonathan was the one centering him there.

He saw beauty in the way Argyle chose his ice cream flavors by which one looked more colorful that day. He saw beauty in the way Argyle’s body would twist when he made a powerful throw with the gold club, strong enough to hit the furthest car in the junkyard. He saw beauty in the way the sun would hit Argyle’s long hair as El braided it for him when they went on a picnic for Joyce’s birthday. He saw beauty in Argyle’s wide laugh when Will said something snarky about a teacher, and he saw beauty in Argyle's soft smile when he noticed Jonathan was taking a picture of him.

“Gonna want to see that one, man,” he said and Jonathan only nodded. Argyle didn’t seem bothered to be his muse, and Jonathan somehow didn’t feel embarrassed to be caught on the act.

He did show Argyle the picture later when he reveled it. He showed all of them, and Argyle looked at them with fondness and looked at Jonathan with even more softness and something warm was happening inside Jonathan’s body that he could name if he wanted to — but he didn’t. He just let himself feel it.

Jonathan took couples' pictures on Valentine’s day, and with the money he and Argyle went to Santa Barbara again on the weekend, and Jonathan took pictures of Argyle sitting in the sand, of Argyle with only his feet dipped in the ice cold sea, of Argyle pointing at something beyond the horizon line from the pier, of Argyle lit and glowing by another luau’s fire.

They slept on the beach that time, because that other dude’s pull-out was booked already, but someone lent them a tent and theirs was just one of many, like a big beach sleepover, and Jonathan never felt hippier, and he never felt happier. He laid on his side and faced Argyle’s profile as he snored softly laying on his back, and Jonathan wanted his eyes to be a camera so he could picture Argyle’s face as he slept peacefully. And Jonathan never felt sappier, and he never felt happier.

As Jonathan woke up the next day he was the one being stared at.

“I’ve seen you taking pictures of me, man, but I have none of you,” Argyle said before even bidding good morning.

“I’m more of a behind the cameras kind of guy.”

“Well that has to change at least for once, because if you’re gonna keep a loving portrait of me in your wallet I want the same honor.” Argyle was smirking, which wasn’t common, and Jonathan laughed loudly, which wasn’t common. He felt high, and he hadn’t smoked since yesterday afternoon.

“I don’t keep a loving portrait of you in my wallet, Argyle.”

“Now I’m just offended. You gotta.” They both laughed again before settling.

The sun was high in the sky already, its light peering through the tent fabric and illuminating the inside, but it was like a refrigerator lamp because it was still too damn cold. Argyle’s body heat was comfortable, though. Jonathan was content.

“I’m not reading wrong into this, am I, man?” Argyle asked after a while.

Jonathan could lie or pretend not to understand the question if he wanted to — but he didn’t.

“You’re not,” he answered. “I’ll let you take a picture of me when I look more presentable.”

“You look pretty enough,” Argyle said, and that warm feeling inside Jonathan’s body creeped up to blush his cheeks, but he was still smiling. “You’ll let me keep it in my wallet?”

Jonathan could answer with actual words if he wanted to — but he didn’t. He just reached forward, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against Argyle’s.

He was warm, and sunny, and even his pajamas were colorful, and all that color bled into Jonathan’s life and painted his gray off. Jonathan hated it at first. Of course he hated it. How could he not? Pack all his belongings into a few boxes in just a few hours, take him out of his comfort zone, change his entire view of the world.

But as Argyle’s hand cupped Jonathan’s face, he was warm. He made Jonathan warm, from the outside and from the inside. Jonathan didn’t see it all gray anymore, no, he had an explosion of colors and he didn’t hate them.

Jonathan loved it. Of course he loved it. How could he not?

#jargyle #jargyle fanfic #jargyle fic #jargyle oneshot #jonathan byers x argyle #argyle x jonathan byers #jonathan byers #argyle #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #lui writes

[sea-otter148]

Everything is connected to everything, here's how

In 1979, the CIA began Operation Cyclone as a response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, which funded and trained the Mujahideen, who were fighting back against the Soviets. A Saudi Arabian millionaire also helped fund and train the Mujahideen. This man was Osama bin Laden, and he would go on to found Al-Qaeda and perpetrate the 9/11 attacks.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, a man walked into his internship at Cartoon Network when he witnessed the Twin Towers fall. He used music to help deal with the trauma and got to founding a band. The man was Gerard Way and the band was My Chemical Romance.

MCR got popular enough that it grabbed the attention of Mormon housewife Stephanie Meyer, who had a dream about a sparkly vampire, who she named Edward Cullen, thus kicking off the Twilight series.

Meanwhile, E. L. James made a Twilight fanfiction called Master of the Universe, which was adapted into a book trilogy called 50 Shades of Grey, and that eventually got a movie deal starring Dakota Johnson in her breakout role.

Dakota Johnson was confronted on the Ellen Show, hosted by Ellen DeGeneres, for not being invited to her 29th birthday party, and Dakota made sure to invite her for her 30th birthday party. However, Ellen never attended the party and instead went to a Dallas Cowboys game with George W. Bush, circling it all back to 9/11. And when Dakota had been invited onto the Ellen Show again, she called Ellen out for not going to her birthday party, and this sparked investigations that revealed the toxic work environment and how Ellen DeGeneres treated her guests and staff. This caused the show to run for a 19th and final season. This is how the CIA is connected to the downfall of Ellen DeGeneres.

There is also the story of how the 2007-08 writer's strike caused Georgia to go blue in 2020, and this may be a wilder ride.

The writer's strike of 2007-08 caused the TV series Supernatural to lose 6 episodes of the back half of its third season, which caused Dean to go to hell due to the show being written into a corner. However, at the beginning of the fourth season, Castiel was introduced, and his profound bond with Dean which saved the latter from perdition caused both a ludicrous amount of unhinged fanfictions and 11 more seasons of Supernatural to be made.

Meanwhile in 2018, Stacey Abrams, a fan of Supernatural, founded the grassroots organization Fair Fight, which helped to end voter suppression in Georgia. This and increased voter turnout was largely credited to Joe Biden securing Georgia in the 2020 election by less than 12,000 votes. However, Stacey Abrams credited this success to being able to calm down after watching Supernatural. And in a beautiful stroke of kismet, Destiel culminated on November 5, 2020, while Georgia was still counting votes.

One more example I want to share is how Star Trek is connected to Obama's election in 2008.

In the 90s, Star Trek: Voyager was not doing too well critically, so the writers introduced a new character played by actress Jeri Ryan, called Seven of Nine. Jeri was married to a prominent politician and Illinois state senator named Jack Ryan, and the juicy details of their eventual divorce in 1999 caused Jack Ryan to lose his chance of getting a US Senate seat in 2004 and get someone else to fill in the Republican candidacy for the Senate election. That someone was former MSNBC host Alan Keyes, who was defeated in a landslide vote by the Democratic candidate Barack Obama. This allowed Obama to get a prominent political position, which ensured his victory in the 2008 presidential election.

Everything is connected to everything.

#butterfly effect #domino effect #destiel #ellen degeneres #mcr #50 shades of gray #supernatural #twilight #history #star trek #politics

[silvfyre-writings]

My Head Hurts (BSD Fanfic)

I wanted to thank you all for reading this fic, even though I'm sure it's not my best one. I had an idea, wrote the first part, and then just kinda, idk, lost the bunnies. But I wanted some caring ADA towards Ranpo, so that's what I did. Besides, it's fanfiction, it's free, and it doesn't have to be great lol.

As long as I enjoy it, and you enjoy it, that's all the matters really.

Anyway, that's all I really want to say, so thank you all for reading, and I'll see you in the next fic!

Ranpo was twelve when he experienced his first migraine.

A headache so intense that he hadn’t been able to so much as open his eyes, let alone leave his bed that day. It felt like his neighbour had smashed their axe against his skull and then just left it there, that was how much it hurt. And on top of that, there was the nausea, and the exhaustion, and really, it just sucked. It was the worst thing he’d ever experienced in his life. The only good thing that had come from this headache—he hadn’t yet known what they were called—was that his mother had walked into his room, taken one look at him and then smothered him in love and attention. It’d made the headache much more bearable to know that someone was there, helping him to bear the burden.

And then his parents died.

And there was no one.

The second time Ranpo experienced a migraine—he now knew what they were, courtesy of his parents—he’d been at the police academy, in the middle of class, and the pain had been so intense that his brain had elected to just shut down rather than even try and deal with it, and he’s passed out. In the middle of class. That all his classmates witnessed. He awoke a few hours later in the infirmary, his head still trying to split itself open, and all he could do was stay still until the nurse noticed that he was awake; she forced him to take some pills that he somehow managed to swallow, nearly gagging as they slid down his throat. After that, he’d been left alone, in a room that wasn’t nearly dark enough, until the pills—painkillers he’d realized afterwards—kicked in and his head hurt a little less.

The third time was the worst time, at least, in his opinion, because he’d been on the streets when it’d hit, and there’d been nothing he could do but curl up in the darkest corner that he could find, and cry over how much it hurt. Because all he could really do was cry; sleep was impossible, it was too bright, too noisy, too painful, and there was no one around that he knew well enough to ask for help from. Sure, he could’ve used the last of the money he’d earnt from his last job to pay for a doctor’s visit, but it’d been four days since his last meal, so he’d gone without. Not that he could bring himself to even buy food, what with the way his stomach was rolling. And by the time the migraine had passed, it’d taken another day before he had the strength to drag himself out of his little corner and back into the world.

After that, whenever another migraine came along, unless he was throwing up or physically unable to see, he forced himself to keep going; they happened with enough frequency, that if he laid in the corner of some alleyway until they passed, he would’ve starved to death long ago. And while Ranpo was starting to think that it would simply be easier to just give up and die, he kept on going. It was hard at times, to keep working through the pain that threatened to bring him to his knees, yet he managed. Barely.

And yet, despite his determination, his life only continued to get worse.

Until Fukuzawa.

The first time he’d experienced a migraine under Fukuzawa’s care, had been two weeks into living with the man. For two weeks, Ranpo had kept his head down and stayed quiet; Fukuzawa had already done so much for him, giving him a place to live, a place to sleep, along with clothes and food, and he really didn’t want to lose that. So, he kept to himself and kept his head down to avoid invoking Fukuzawa’s wrath. But then, in the middle of the night, two weeks into this new living arrangement, he’d woken up to nausea so intense, that he was barely able to process the feeling, let alone the sensation of his skull being smashed between two buildings, before his dinner made its acquaintance with himself and his sheets.

And just because Ranpo’s luck couldn’t possibly get any worse, Fukuzawa woke up.

There was an apology spilling from his lips the moment his bedroom door cracked open, and tears in his eyes because he truly felt awful, because there was nothing fun about throwing up, especially over oneself, and not to mention, he’d woken Fukuzawa from his own sleep. Yet Fukuzawa hadn’t looked mad. In fact, he’d looked concerned, worried even, but that couldn’t be right. Because Fukuzawa was stoic and firm, and this was a new and familiar side to the man that Ranpo hadn’t witnessed before in the short time they’d known each other. And that scared him.

But it was also a lie, since he’d seen that same worry and concern back at the warehouse after he’d nearly died.

However, his head was hurting far too much to think much about it.

Ranpo watched with wide eyes as Fukuzawa took in the scene before him, although he had to close his eyes when the nausea decided to make a reappearance. A cruel thing for his body to do, really, when he’d already thrown up everything he’d eaten. He heard footsteps approach, barely audible to most, but like a timpani to him, and soon he was being lifted and carried. The next few moments blurred together, Ranpo drifting somewhere between conscious and not, but he did remember the distinct feeling of something cold dragging across his skin, bringing with it, utter relief.

Awareness returned to him when he was lifted again, and he blinked once, letting out a whimper when a harsh light assaulted him. The light vanished, but the pain had already increased, and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. He heard Fukuzawa say something, the words indistinguishable, but oh so gentle and soothing, and Ranpo cried just that little bit harder. Which only made his head pound that much harder.

He felt himself lowered back into bed—at some point, Fukuzawa must’ve changed the sheets, but he couldn’t remember his guardian leaving his side—and the actions were so soft and kind, that Ranpo couldn’t help but let out a sob when he was tucked in. It’d been so long since he’d last experienced such kindness, and it was just so, so overwhelming, especially in his current state where his senses and his emotions were heightened. Still, Fukuzawa said nothing, he just sat on the edge of his bed and wiped away the tears that fell with his sleeve until finally, he drifted off.

When he woke, an hour later, Fukuzawa was still there on the edge of the bed, and dozing himself, but now there was a glass of water, along with a couple of painkillers sitting on his bedside table that Ranpo didn’t hesitate to reach for. His head still felt like it was being stabbed—or being electrocuted, but the point was his head really fucking hurt, and he was honestly desperate for any kind of relief at this point. And while he normally struggled to swallow pills, this time he didn’t, taking them easily before he laid back down, his movements disturbing Fukuzawa from his rest.

“How do you feel?” Fukuzawa asked, voice muffled and quiet, yet still loud, in the sea of pain that was Ranpo’s head. A warm hand rested upon his forehead, the touch gentle and soothing, chasing away some of the tension in his body.

He blinked once, eyes heavy, and grunted, unable to do much more than that. He certainly didn’t feel great, and would very much rather be sleeping off this latest migraine of his, but here he was, awake and hurting, and also burdening someone else with his problems. “’m fine…” Ranpo mumbled. “Jus’ a headache…”

Fukuzawa hummed, and his hand fell away. “I’ll grab an ice pack for you. It might help.”

Ranpo liked to think he made some kind of noise in response to Fukuzawa’s statement, but he honestly couldn’t remember. One second, Fukuzawa was there and the next he was gone, only to return shortly after with an ice pack in hand that was quickly settled on his aching skull. The chill chased away the pain to bring him some relief, enough that he could close his eyes and finally drift back to sleep, and as the last of his consciousness faded, he wished to sleep through the rest of this migraine.

Apparently the gods had decided to be merciful for a change, because he did end up sleeping through the rest of the pain, waking up two days later with just a dull ache behind his eyes, to see Fukuzawa asleep on the spare futon next to his bed that the older man must’ve rolled out at some point while he’d been unaware of the world. Seeing Fukuzawa by his side like that, brought a warm feeling to his chest, and he closed his eyes again with the intention of getting some more rest; he managed to get another hour of rest before he woke and saw that Fukuzawa was also awake.

And that meant it was time for his least favourite pastime.

Talking.

If there was one thing Ranpo didn’t like doing, it was talking about himself. Sure, he didn’t mind bragging about his ability and powers of deduction to those that would listen, but there was a difference between talking about his ability, and talking about his migraines. Because his ability was a strength. It was something good that he could use to help other people. It was what made him, him. But the migraines he’d just one day started having? They weren’t good at all. How could they be, when all they did was stop him from functioning? How were migraines supposed to help the people that came to him? The answer was, they weren’t, which was why Ranpo still hadn’t said anything as he and Fukuzawa sat next to each other—well, Fukuzawa sat, Ranpo laid beside him with a cold towel covering his eyes to further dull the ache behind his eyes that continues to cling.

“You have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.” Fukuzawa murmured, the quiet tone he took on at just the right volume to be comfortable instead of painful. “They’ll find out if there’s a reason behind your migraines—” Of course Fukuzawa had figured out that this wasn’t the first migraine he’d had. Nothing got past the man and his observation skills apparently. “—and treat them if there is.”

Ranpo grunted, almost certain that a doctor wouldn’t be able to help him. Because if a doctor was actually capable of curing these migraines, then surely his parents would’ve dragged him to the local village doctor to help him? They had loved him, they had cared for him, so why hadn’t they taken him to the doctor when he’d had that first migraine? Sure, it’d been the only one he’d had with them, but it’d been the most pain he’d ever been in his life, and they just… hadn’t taken him. Why? Why hadn’t they? Had they truly loved him? Or was he just imagining that love? It would make sense, it really would, looking back on it now, and he—

A hand threaded through his hair, dragging him away from his spiralling thoughts and bringing him back to the present. Fukuzawa’s voice worked further to ground him, and he rolled over to grab at Fukuzawa’s yukata, hiding his face against the man’s leg. The hand in his hair moved to readjust the cloth so it was covering his eyes. “Ranpo?”

He let out a whine this time. “Yeah?”

“You’ll be okay.”

“Really?” Ranpo asked, uncertain, because no one had ever tried to help him, so he couldn’t understand why Fukuzawa was so willing to do what everyone else had failed to do.

“Yes.” Fukuzawa’s hand returned to his hair, fingers moving through his hair. “You’ll be okay, because I promised to take care of you when I took you in, no matter what, and that includes helping you with this.”

“They’re just headaches…” Ranpo tried to argue, because the last thing he wanted to do was waste Fukuzawa’s time in something he’d managed to deal with for years. Sure, his migraines had increased in frequency over time, but he was still managing just fine. It was just that this one had caught him unaware.

Fukuzawa’s hand paused, and his voice softened even more than before. “You deserve to be free of pain, Ranpo, so please, trust that I’ll be able to help you get treatment for your migraines.”

Ranpo sighed and nodded, allowing himself to be lost in the comfort that Fukuzawa brought, placing his trust in a man that he’d only known for two weeks, trusting in Fukuzawa’s promise of getting him help, and trusting in the words you’ll be okay.

He clung to those words and trusted.

He only hoped that trusting wouldn’t fail him.

-----

Something’s wrong.

The thought came to Fukuzawa unbiddenly, and was sudden enough that he paused mid stroke in the report he was signing. He tried to think back to everything that’d happened so far that day, yet there was nothing that came to mind. The day was as normal as a day at the Agency could be; he’d arrived after making sure that Ranpo was awake and out of bed—there’d been too many a time when he’d woken the boy up, only for him to go back to sleep the moment he left the room—to find Kunikida already there with Atsushi, the two of them working on a case together. Dazai was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t a surprise. Seldom was Dazai ever in the office early, much preferring to start late, and finish late, which coincidentally, worked quite well with Yosano’s schedule as well.

Tanizaki had asked for the day off, because he’d heard that Kenji and Kyouka hadn’t been to Cosmo World, and wanted to take them, and who was Fukuzawa to begrudge his younger staff members into acting their age for a change. It would do them some good, and would also promote closer bonds, all things Fukuzawa approved of his employee’s doing, and not just because it improved work ethic. He wasn’t so foolish as to think his employee’s were the kind of people that could keep going and going without the appropriate breaks. Many—if not all—of them were wounded souls that sometimes needed that little bit of extra care, quite often because they were so bad at taking care of themselves. But that was okay, because Fukuzawa was more than willing to be that support.

Ranpo always liked to tell him he’d turned soft in his old age.

Fukuzawa was inclined to agree, but now wasn’t the time to focus on that; there was still that intense feeling in his gut, telling him that something was wrong, or that something was about to go wrong if nothing had yet, and he could no longer ignore it. And since there was nothing in his office, that meant it had to be something within the main office.

Please let it be a broken window. Fukuzawa thought as he stood from his desk, walking around it towards the door. He was hoping for a broken window, but he knew deep down, that it wouldn’t be as simple as that; this feeling in his gut wouldn’t exist if the problem was just a broken window. Because between his employees and the mafia raids, the windows were broken more often than not, and really, if any of his employees decided to stop being detectives, they could probably open up a window repair business just from how often they’d had to repair the windows.

So yeah, a broken window was the best case scenario in Fukuzawa’s mind.

And he knew it wasn’t when he heard a timid knock, just as he was about to open the door. Fukuzawa shut his eyes for just a moment, and sighed, steeling himself for whatever problem he was about to encounter, before opening the door.

“Oh, um, President!” Atsushi blinked, surprised at how fast the door had been open. But the boy was quick to recover and stood up straight, restless, and fidgety as he always was. But Fukuzawa was a patient man, so he stood there, calm, as he waited for Atsushi to find his words, which thankfully didn’t take long at all. “Kunikida sent me to get you. Something’s wrong with Ranpo.”

Oh no, what’s happened this time? Fukuzawa closed his eyes, already running through every possible problem that could’ve happened with his ward. Which was a long list because Ranpo and trouble may as well have been the same word, what with how often he ended up in it. He let his mind return to that morning when he’d woken the detective; Ranpo hadn’t seemed off when he’d been woken up, only being a little more annoyed than he usually was if anything, and Ranpo hadn’t yet been summoned for a case that day. So whatever the problem was, it was a sudden one, and that was enough for him to step past Atsushi, worried. “What happened.”

Atsushi fell into step beside him. “I could hear his heart rate increasing, so I looked over and he looked to be in pain? I asked Ranpo if he was okay, but he didn’t answer me. But Kunikida looked up and told me to get you before rushing over.” Atsushi’s thought for a moment. “I think I heard him throwing up as I left, but I’m not sure.”

“He probably was.” Fukuzawa confirmed, knowing just from that brief explanation what was wrong. It’d been years since that time he’d woken up to the sound of Ranpo throwing up, two weeks after taking the kid in, suffering from a headache so strong, he’d barely been coherent as Fukuzawa had tried to figure out what was wrong and take care of him. And even after taking Ranpo to the doctor back then and getting him diagnosed with chronic migraines, and getting him the medicine that helped to reduce the frequency of them, the dreaded headaches still enjoyed making their appearance at the most inconvenient of times.

The last time had been before Atsushi had joined them; Ranpo had been summoned out by the police, only to fall ill upon arrival. Dazai had been with him at the time, to Fukuzawa’s relief, because Ranpo hadn’t even been able to stand from how much pain he’d been in.

“He suffers from migraines.” Fukuzawa explained, getting straight to the point because Atsushi wasn’t a child that needed coddling, and in the short time he’d been with the Agency, he’d become just as protective and caring as the rest of the members, fitting in well. “He’s had them for as long as I’ve known him, and he gets rather sick whenever they happen. Try to remain silent when we enter.”

“I understand.” Atsushi nodded, dashing ahead to open the door for Fukuzawa, and he gave the boy a nod as he stepped into the main office, taking care to be silent as he moved.

The curtains are drawn, and the lights are off, but Fukuzawa has no trouble locating his ward, if only because Ranpo is currently on the floor, leaning against the side of his desk with Dazai beside him, Ranpo’s head on Dazai’s shoulder, eyes closed and body trembling. There’s a wastebasket being clutched tightly in Ranpo’s grips, and as Fukuzawa steps closer, Ranpo makes a noise that has Kunikida reaching over from Ranpo’s other side to gently guide his head back towards the basket.

The sound of Ranpo throwing up always had Fukuzawa’s heart clenching, and this time was no different as he came to kneel in front of his ward, one hand reaching out to touch his ankle so that Ranpo knew he was there. No words were spoken, in fear of aggravating Ranpo’s migraine, but the relief on Ranpo’s face told him that he knew Fukuzawa was there. Once Ranpo finished throwing up, his head returned to Dazai’s shoulder, one of his hands grabbing at Dazai’s own, his grip loosening on the basket; Kunikida quietly placed it to the side, just in case it was needed again.

“It was sudden.” Kunikida informed him, keeping his voice low. “One minute he was fine, the next he was ill.”

Fukuzawa nodded. That was how most of Ranpo’s migraines tended to go, arriving without any kind of prior warning, so he wasn’t surprised to hear that was what happened this time. “Has he taken any medication?”

“The pills came right back up, so Yosano’s preparing a shot for him instead.” Dazai said this time, squeezing Ranpo’s hand gently. Ranpo mumbled something unintelligible. As soon as he finished speaking, there were footsteps approaching, familiar steps that Fukuzawa had grown accustomed to after a decade of listening out for them, but this time without the distinct clicking of heels, no doubt to limit the amount of noise in the room.

Yosano’s smile was soft as Fukuzawa’s eyes met her own, but she was quick to focus her attention back on the task at hand and shooed Kunikida away so that she had the space to work. They all watched as she pushed Ranpo’s sleeve to his elbow and in the very same breathe, inject him with the painkillers that would hopefully work faster than Ranpo’s usual medications. Yosano sat back on her heels. “We can move him to the infirmary in a minute. I’ve got Atsushi blocking out as much light as possible.”

“We can’t send him home?” Kunikida asked, brow furrowed.

“Not when it’s this bad.” Yosano sighed with a shake of her head. “We need to give the painkillers time to kick in anyway, and besides, the rest will do him good.”

“I’ll watch over him, and take him home once he’s in less pain.” Fukuzawa said as Kunikida opened his mouth to say something. Already he was moving, nudging the others out of the way so that he could get a grip on Ranpo and lift him into his arms, going slow so as to not make the nausea worse. At first, he thought Ranpo might’ve been asleep, considering he didn’t make a noise as he was shifted, but as he shuffled his arms to get a better grip, Ranpo moved to bury his face into the crook of his neck, throwing an arm over his shoulder at the same time.

“I’ll come with you.” Yosano got to her feet and followed Fukuzawa to the infirmary, opening and shutting the door so that Fukuzawa didn’t have to try and juggle both Ranpo and the door handle. Together, they worked on getting Ranpo settled into one of the beds; Yosano grabbed an extra pillow and a few blankets whilst Fukuzawa worked on shedding Ranpo of his layers until he was left in just his shirt and pants. The entire time, Ranpo didn’t make a sound, even though it was obvious he was still conscious from the way that he tried to help. Tried being the key word. But soon enough, Ranpo was settled into the bed with an ice pack over his eyes, dozing now, and the scene was so reminiscent of that time when Ranpo was fourteen, that Fukuzawa felt as if he’d been thrown back in time.

Fukuzawa sat in the chair that’d been pulled over and glanced over at Yosano. “How bad was it?”

“It was bad.” Yosano sat in the chair beside him, drawing her knees up so that she could rest her head against his shoulder. Fukuzawa reached over with one hand and patted the top of her head a few times. “Certainly one of the worst ones I’ve seen him have. Have you seen worse?”

“Two weeks after I took him in.” Fukuzawa answered. He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. Yosano had been apart of their lives for a decade, and was plenty smart herself. She could put the pieces together without him having to say so.

“He’ll be okay.” It wasn’t a question, nor a statement, but more of a reassurance. Still, Fukuzawa nodded.

“He’ll be okay.”

And Ranpo would be, because this wasn’t the first migraine he’d ever had.

Nor would it be the last.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #hurt/comfort #comfort #fukudad #edogawa ranpo #fukuzawa yukichi #armed detective agency #writing #fanfic

[modelbus]

o3o May I request c!Tommy x protective!reader who uses she/they pronouns? (Platonic, please!)

Reader arrives at the same time as Eryn and finds out how badly Tommy has been treated for the past few years, decides that she's going to make sure he doesn't have to go through that again. - 🍜

My first C!Tommy writing! You'll have to tell me if it's horrible and if I should give up on writing C!Tommy :D I did some digging on the timeline and Eryn joined before Dream's escape, so keep that in mind.

Pairing: C!Tommy x She/They!Reader (platonic)

Just a Kid

Most people told you to leave Tommy alone.

You had seen him around a few times, building random towers and collecting materials. He never seemed very happy about whatever he was doing though.

Before joining, you had only heard rumors about everyone. Technoblade, the ruthless warrior. Philza, the man who survived hardcore and earned wings. Tommyinnit, the kid who was so full of energy that it was infectious. If those rumors were true, then Tommy had changed. Gone was a kid full of energy, replaced by an empty shell of a person.

In a way, it was scarier than anything you've ever seen. What makes a person look like that? He would check over his shoulder, a white-knuckled grip on his sword. Always gripping a sword. His clothes were constantly dirty, and his eyes were practically gray. Under his eyes were eyebags that were miles deep, a dark purple against his pale skin tone.

"What happened to Tommy?" You decide to ask Ranboo. Although Ranboo didn't seem to remember much, he was always willing to help.

"Tommy? He's... he's changed. I think. There was this stuff with Dream? Sorry, I- you might want to ask someone else."

Dream. That was a name you knew hardly anything about. The very owner of the server, missing from it. Someone had told you that he was in prison, but that didn't make sense. How did the owner of the server end up in jail?

Eret was the next person you ask. He seemed pretty levelheaded, so he had to have some answers.

"What happened before I joined? With Tommy and Dream and all that?"

He pauses in his building to turn his head towards you. His glasses are too dark for you to see past, but you assume he's looking at you.

"It's a long story. Tommy and Wilbur tried to create a nation called L'manberg and Dream didn't like that. There was a war. Tommy ended up losing in a duel, losing the war. But Dream still gave L'manberg their freedom. There was an election, Wilbur and Tommy lost which turned L'manberg into Manberg. There was another war."

"A lot of war." You huff.

Eret smiles. "There is. Tommy lost a cow and started a war somewhere in there I think. But he didn't lose the war against Manberg. Instead, Tubbo became president. Tommy got exiled. Nobody really knows what happened to him, but he came back... different. Changed."

"Nobody?" You push. That didn't seem right.

"Nobody apart from Dream and Ghostbur. But Ghostbur is long dead, and Dream's in prison. Anyways, there was a war in which L'manberg was destroyed. Completely. They tried to rebuild it a little. Wilbur died and got revived, it's... it's a long story. Complicated. But Tommy died too and got revived after getting stuck in the prison."

"Holy shit." You wouldn't want to get stuck in that prison. Just looking at it was scary enough.

"Kid's been through a lot. Lost a lot. Seen a lot. We all have."

"Like him?"

Eret's look turns more thoughtful. "Not like him. Not as much as he has."

Right then. It was decided. Nobody was going to hurt Tommy ever again. Grief and loss were something you were familiar with, but he was just a kid. A kid with a haunted look in his eyes, an exile nobody knew anything about.

"Thank you."

"Of course. I'm making a history museum, after all." As you leave, you can hear him talking to himself. "She's digging up skeletons meant to be buried."

If skeletons were meant to be buried, then why were two revived people walking around on the server? You might not know much but messing with life and death sure couldn't be good. If you were here, you might as well try your best and bring some peace to the server.

So, you go against the advice given to you. You talk to Tommy.

“Hey! Tommy, right? What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t trust you, but he has no reason to. With a suspicious look he angles himself away from you but still responds. That’s something, right?

“Getting supplies.”

“I can help! What are we gathering?”

“I don’t need help.”

“I didn’t say you needed anyones help. I’m just offering.” Your grin never wavers. “Bored and willing to help out.”

“…wood.” He reluctantly answers. “To rebuild my house. Oak wood.”

“Great!” You grab out your netherite axe, only to spin it around and offer Tommy the handle. His axe was iron and you had a diamond one you could use. “Here, I’ll use my spare diamond one.”

His face twists, and you realize your mistake. The gift could be seen as pity. Sure, you might be becoming protective over Tommy but it wasn’t out of pity.

“It’ll be faster.” You add on.

He takes it slowly, but takes it nonetheless. Progress.

Your next move is to talk to Jack Manifold. The guy seemed a little odd but not too bad. No matter what your personal opinion of him was though, you had seen the billboard. The hotel. Big Manifold’s Hotel sign was very obviously painted over Big Innit’s Hotel.

“Speak of the devil! There they are!” Jack calls out to you, waving. He was talking with Niki, another member you need to talk to. Two bats with one arrow, right?

“Jack! Niki!” You exclaim. “Just the people I was looking for!”

“What can we help you with?” Jack asks, smiling. Unlike Eret his glasses were see-through.

“I was actually wondering about your hotel. It used to be Tommy’s, right?”

“Oh, yeah. But then he died so it went to me.” He shrugs, seeming unconcerned by it. There’s just one little flaw in his logic.

“But Tommy’s alive.”

“Listen, you joined at a really nice time. Tommy’s chilled out and it’s better this way. Just leave things be.” Niki suggests.

“He’s chilled out because he fucking died! He’s a kid!” You exclaim.

“You don’t get it, he terrorized the server! It’s better off this way. He deserved everything that happened to him.”

You stare at Niki, jaw dropped. She couldn’t be serious, could she?

“You’re- maybe I’m wrong here, but he’s been through multiple wars. He’s died. He’s seen his country blown apart. He was exiled. And he’s still a kid. You’re telling me he deserved all that?”

“He brought it upon himself.” Niki answers.

“Heh, maybe we should just calm down?” Jack suggests.

“I’m calm.” You break eye contact with Niki to look between the duo. “Honestly, the hotel is none of my business. I just wanted to warn you both to leave Tommy alone. You might be okay with what’s been going on, but I’m not. In my books you’re both just as bad as Dream.”

Rumors on the server often turned out to be correct, as you were quickly learning. But now they've been dealt with. You weren't going to let anything else happen to Tommy even if it took all three of your lives, you swear by it.

There was one last person you had to threaten, but he happened to be unreachable. The very man who perhaps hurt Tommy the most. Dream.

As it turns out, Pandora was pretty good at keeping people both in and out. No matter how many times you begged Sam, he never let you in. Always claiming it was a liability, especially after how Tommy got stuck in there, which led to a whole new conversation.

"How the fuck do you lock a child in with a monster? He died, didn't he?" You ask, already furious at Sam's constant denial of letting you visit Dream.

"It was an accident. He signed a waiver-" "HE DIED! Aren't you meant to protect people? Isn't that what being the Warden is all about?"

Sam's expression crumples, and you suddenly realize you might be yelling at the wrong person here. So far you seemed to be the only one actively helping Tommy, but that didn't mean he was alone. Maybe there were people still in his corner, people who just fucked up a little. (or, in this case, a lot)

"Threaten Dream for me, would you?" You ask, backing off. "I think we can both agree that we'd kill him if he ever hurt Tommy again."

"Yeah." Sam nods. "That I can do."

With a smile, you set off a friend richer.

Tommy did still have people out there who cared for him, he just didn't know it. Maybe one day he'd see that, but only after a shit ton of healing.

For now, all you could do was give him a safe place and get him in some goddamn therapy.

#c!tommy #dsmp #mcyt #tommyinnit mcyt #tommyinnit #tommyinit dsmp #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x reader #dsmp tommy #dsmp imagine #dream smp #c!tommyinnit

[crychaoss]

inspired by these tweets, it is in fact kinda ironic how none of the members recognize Foolish's pain just because it wasn't caused by the Federation.

Bad constantly murdered him when they only had iron armor, and now keeps hitting/blinding him with the scythe even tho Foolish tells him to stop every time. Same with Pierre and many other players, like Baghera and Antoine but they don't do it as much. He got tortured by Bad and Pierre because they thought Foolish was acting suspicious. They locked him in a glass chamber that threw posion on him every minute, a fan was blowing fire on him and a turret kept shooting him in this 2x2 room, and when he got out they said it was for a "telenova show" and wasn't real. (not to mention the amount of lies BBH came up with about Foolish just to make him look bad/suspicious and so HE could have fun)

And when Bad tried to ruin Foolish and Vegetta's relationship like 15x times, and when his plan didn't work out, he said "Oh, that's why I did it, so you can show how much you love Vegetta". Like... stop lying.

Remember how Forever tried to kill Leo just because Foolish was at the wrong place at the wrong time? How he never confronted Cellbit about it even tho he was technically the reason Foolish got into that mess? Just because he was helping his friend and didn't want his work to be destroyed?

When Foolish's friend, Mr. Mustard was kidnapped and was told Pac e Mike were the ones who did it, and in exchange he arrested them, they trolled him back with pretending to kill his daughter?? And when he told the truth, that the reason why he did it was to find Mr. Mustard it was not a good enough reason? It was not a real reason because THEY don't care about the capybaras? And now every time someone tells the arresting story, they leave out Foolish's reasoning and only say "He did it because he's Foolish. He just wanted a little chaos".

Or just how easily everyone went along with assassinating him during the french event? How none of them cared he would lose an electional life? How they keep making jokes about him getting killed by Pomme and losing his chance of ever winning as KELP?

And let's not even talk about how they not only left him in the Nether, but the moment they noticed he didn't come back their reaction was "Oh who is Foolish? I'm so glad he's not here", and joked about his death and making him a funeral PARTY.

And after all this, after all the pain he had to go through because of his so called friends, THEY dare to blame HIM for siding with the Federation and Cucurucho.

#qsmp #qsmp foolish #foolish gamers #remember. it's all rp :F #qsmp badboyhalo

[rustycopper4use]

Could I request Rin obami x male reader?

Could m!reader be part of the student council before the election thingy?

M!reader personality: he's extremely cheerful and kind all of the time, even if you insult him he'll just keep smiling which comforts some students while it also makes some uncomfortable?

What if he actually was extremely rude and Apathetic behind closed doors?

YES! I love the idea<3

thanks for requesting!!!

Rin Obami x Male reader

The beginning:

The morning comes, and as always you’re stuck in a council meeting that you rather not be in. however you kept smiling, keeping an upbeat attitude was proving more tiresome as days pass, but you prevail.

The club president proposed, of an election to take her position of power. This came with protests, however she quickly shut that down.

And to add in, she tells them that her family branch is coming to compete along with everyone else.

You didn’t really care either way, just another lists of names to remember. However as the family tree came in a certain face caught your eye.

His name was Rin Obami, he had a soft smile, and a friendly demeanour.

All things you had to work tirelessly, and constant effort to uphold. But to him it came off as second nature, something he didn’t have consistently worry about. The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

And to your dismay, you took an interest to him.

The reluctant crush

As the days followed, bets getting more violent and aggressive. Everyone trying to claw their way to the top, regarding no concern for safety, or even criminal laws.

You of course wanted to take advantage of your positive reputation, up your kindness. Help a few house pets out. After awhile all the poor neglected classmates started to bore you, all having same sob story, you couldn’t care to remember.

When you finally acquired enough ballets, from very generous voters, you decided to start playing a few games. Nothing too extreme, you needed to keep your reputation clean.

You would play, watching as your oblivious classmates lose, all with a sickly sweet smile. You would pity them, and asked if they want to go again, acting as if you truly wanted the best for them.

Countless games won, you decided to watch the president gamble, she was playing poker, and every time she would bet all of her chips. But that’s not what caught your attention, it was rather her new opponent. Rin Obami.

Your fixation on him was purely innocent, or at least that’s what you told yourself, you just were curious that’s all.

The bet starts, as the cards were dealt. To no one’s surprised she goes all in, everyone folds, and the cycle repeats till

Rin realizes her strategy. And calls her bluff, and even laughed at her.

And this surged of confidence sent a sick feeling to you, not bad, but different.

This caught the president off guard, as he quits the game.

You stared at him as he walks off, you seemed distracted, and didn’t notice someone walking right into you. The girl was clearly upset.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t see you! Are you alright?” You smiled.

“You’re in my way.” The girl grits her teeth.

“My bad. Hope you have a great day!” You move out the way. She was taken aback, and just muttered something before storming off.

The confession

A few weeks pass, during that you finally started to fully be friendly with each other, and what was a simple crush, turned into you following around Rin like a lovesick puppy.

Which you weren’t obsessed with how pathetic it all was. But you digress.

You and Rin, were having tea together. But something was off, Rin was more put off then usual.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling alright?” You kindly spoke, even after your attachment to him you still kept the same personality, the less he knows of you the better.

“You don’t have to keep that act up.” He spoke catching you off guard.

“I not really sure what you’re talking about.” You nervously laughed.

“You know what I’m talking about.” He placed down his teacup.

“What gave it away.” You sternly spoke, your posture slouching.

“I knew it was all fake the moment I met you.” He calmly smiled.

“You didn’t answer the question, how did you figured it out.” Your tone slightly more aggressive.

“I can’t really explain it, just something about you.” “That’s not an answer. I’ve spent years trying to be like this, and you figured it out through a gut feeling.” Your facade is finally slipping.

“I’ve wasted my time trying to be kind and empathetic, to people who I truly couldn’t care less about, I listen to their problems, I console them. And guess what after all of that, I’m still left with this empty void in my chest. And I shouldn’t feel this way, I’m part of student body, Ive surrounded myself with people who would die for me. And yet nothing..” You stop your rant, knowing if you go any farther you’ll make him hate you.

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” Your tone harsh, poison compaired to the sweet honey your voice had moments ago.

He stands up from his chair and walks over to you, he placed a hand on your cheek. A kind gestured, he gave a soft smile.

“There’s the real you.” He face was of pure admiration.

You just stared at him, unblinkingly. “You’re even better than I could’ve hoped.” He stared back at you.

“Im nothing but an apathetic, selfish prick. I don’t deserve you.” Your voice shakes, as you fight back tears.

“I would rather love you as you are, even if every time I would touch you I would bleed out, and your voice like poison with every word you speak. Then as a cutout cardboard of the idea boyfriend, lacking any humanity or warmth.” These words finally broke you.

He looks at you for a moment before taking you in for a kiss. Pulling away. “you call that a kiss?” You teased before pulling back in with a hand tugging at his roots.

#x reader #gay #kakegurui #kakeguri x reader #lgbtq #lgbtqiia+ #reqs open #request #Rin Obami #male reader #kakeguri anime #gay people #gambling

[starlightshadowsworld]

Reminder that the whole reason Pakistan is in the mess it is.

With Imran Khan being removed as prime minister.

And his subsequent imprisonment for 3 years after that.

And that whole mess.

... Is because of America.

Imran Khan was in support of a neutral policy in the Russia/Ukraine war.

The Russian invasion into Ukraine hadn't started and he expressed that "there was still hope for a peaceful solution to be reached."

And the US didn't like that.

In a secret diplomatic cable between the than Pakistani ambassador to America had with 2 state department officials from America.

One being Donald Lou who was not happy with Imran Khan.

'He said that "I think if the no- confidence vote against the prime minister succeeds, all will be forgiven in Washington because the Russia visit is being looked at as a decision by the Prime Minister. Otherwise, I think it will be tough going ahead."

So in other words, because Imran Khan had a different view point that he did, he was threathing Pakistan on the world's stage.

That if they didn't get rid of their leader, their leader who had been democratically elected by the Pakistani public.

Than they would suffer consequences.

... I'm sorry who the fuck put you in charge?!

And if you think oh it's just one guy.

"Don could not have conveyed such a thing without the express approval from the White House."

Aka the Biden Administration.

Which he expressed multiple times.

... I'm not suprised but my god does this piss me off.

Day after this, the no vote of confidence began in the Pakistani Parliament.

And Imran Khan was removed.

And imprisoned.

On some of the most flimsy ass charges I've ever heard.

However, shockingly... People who voted Imran Khan to be prime minister of Pakistan... Actually really liked the guy.

Imagine that.

And protests happened.

And the military, who was already corrupt got a power high from the situation and were arresting many of said supporters.

And Imran Khan might be free now but America has made sure that he can't run in the Pakistani elections.

No matter how popular and how much people want him in charge.

Don't get me wrong the military is definitely fucking shit up.

And their are others at fault.

Infact, Americas involvement was raised by Imran Khan in March 2022 (but this secret cable was only revealed today.)

He stated "a foreign power sent a message that he needs "to be removed" or Pakistan will face the consequences."

And incase you were wondering if it was America.

He the letter he received to be "a foreign conspiracy letter" and it's language was "threathing and arrogant."

But the damage was done.

And while no one else was helping this situation, it wouldn't have happened if not for the USA.

Because who the fuck gives you the right to threaten Pakistan because they wanted to stay neutral in a conflict that they weren't apart of.

Nor had even begun.

You destabilised their government, further corrupted the country and the military for your own gain with no remorse or regard for who it would affect.

You put the person who many feel is the one hope for Pakistan in jail and now he can't become leader.

If someone tried that with America, their government would lose their absolute shit.

We'd be called a dangerous foreign power.

But when you do it it's fine?

But your somehow allowed to dictate the way other countries are run? No offence but you can't run yourselves.

Nevermind Pakistan.

You have no right to do any of this.

You have shattered any peace in Pakistan.

Everyone who has died in the protests and riots is on your hands.

And because of that this news is probably being blocked in Pakistan.

Purposefully destabilise a south asian government and than fuck off like it never happened, who are you, the British?

And their denying it.

US State spokesperson Matthew Miller said "nothing in these purported comments show that the United States talking a position on who the leader of Pakistan should be."

Another spokesperson, Jalina Porter states "let me just say very bluntly, there is absolutely no truth to these allegations."

You fucking liars.

#Pakistan #pakistan news #Pakistani #I'm just so mad and so tired #America #news usa #american news #World news #us #usa #pakistan #pakistani #imran khan #Pakistani government #South asian #desi #desi tag #desiblr #desiblogger #desi stuff #desi tumblr #desi things #south asian #south asia #pakistan zindabad

[peachypede]

edits: Made his regular fit more casual and added his cover job outfits as well. Updated his backstory a bit and also included some past jobs of his.

Amanatsu "Aman" Dracan-Rodriguez (born Genji Hashimoto)

Theme: Disguise - Spy x Family Ost

Height: 5'10" (177 cm)

Weight: 210 lbs (95 kg)

Birthday: June 17th

Current Residence: Artazon, Paldea / Interpol Headquarters

Likes: His job, puzzles, things he can twirl around in his hands, pushing people's buttons to get a reaction, literature, art, making a difference, figuring out how to do something that people tell him he shouldn't do.

Dislikes: Not understanding why something/someone is the way they are, feeling helpless, losing his temper

Fears: Losing his family again

Born in Jubilife, Sinnoh as Genji Hashimoto to a local gang leader and his wife, who used to be a famous singer. Much of his first seven years, he would be groomed to be the Yakuza prince that his father wanted him to be while his mother would try to shelter him from cruelty of the world. Although Aman would be desensitized to a lot, he still gained a sense of morality from his mother.

When he was seven, the life he had with his parents would be cut short as a rival gang set an explosive in the car the family was in. It would cause Aman to lose his mother, father, and also his right limbs. Thankfully, an Interpol Agent was the first to arrive at the scene and the global agency would help Aman not only recover physically but also put him into a witness protection program where he would later be placed for adoption under a different name.

He would be accepted by willing and loving arms of two men: Hassel Dracan and Brassius Rodriguez. For once in his life, Aman experienced a true peaceful home with them and he'd accept both of their last names.

Hassel and Brassius proved to be great (albeit overbearing at times) fathers. Aman was introduced right away to his extended family on Brassius' side: Tia Leppa and Tio Trueno, a "cousin-in-law" that he would call Uncle Calhoun because of age difference, and two second-cousins that were around his age named Pecha and Rawst. Aman immediately grew attached to all of them and loved seeing them visit during summers.

By the time he was ten, Hassel and Brassius enrolled Aman into Naranja-Uva. His track was humanities. Aman was bright and aced all his classes, which lead him to a lot of down time. As a way to entertain himself, he’d focus his attention on peers instead and get into trouble trying to pry into the personal lives of his other students. He would also see how many rules he can break without the school finding out. When his cousins became enrolled in the academy as well, though, Aman was chosen by Pecha, who got elected as class president, to be a secretary and that helped keep him busy.

After school, Aman knew he wanted to be a detective and jumped into police work. He so quickly climbed the ladders that he was noticed by Interpol (who had still been keeping an eye on him most of his life) and offered a job within the organization which he accepted. The position he would get in Interpol would mainly be cover jobs to infiltrate and investigate evil teams. Often he is leading the clean up (since a kid somehow miraculously wrapped up the thing on their own)

Currently, Aman's cover is a Depot Agent by day and a Team Neo-Plasma Grunt by night investigating what the evil team has planned.

Some of Aman's jobs over the years:

Kalos - Was a research assistant to Sycamore and investigated Team Flare. Helped in clean up of the region.

Kanto & Johto- Was a kimono girl. Cleaned up some remaining Team Rocket members with the help of a Rocket grunt that needed an out. Helped that Rocket grunt get into the protection and relocation program that Interpol offers.

Hoenn - Posed as a Sailor. Cleaned up remnants of Team Aqua.

Galar - Clean up after ex-Chairman Rose's grand scheme. Cover job as League Staff. Determined who was still loyal to Rose and had them dealt with as precaution so no more incidents would plague the league.

Paldea - No cover job, but investigated Team Star by also pretending to be a grunt. Fastest investigation. Team was deemed not a threat and to leave it to the school to figure out what to do with them.

Ships

tbd ship name | Aman x Aster (Aster belongs to @astererer)

Kazman | Kaz x Aman (Kaz belongs to @astererer )

Herbal Tea Shipping | Aman x Reina (Reina belongs to @outoutdamnspark)

#oc aman #oc reference sheet

[cogaytes]

Kenric & Oralie

Roisin's Reading Rumble, Round 1

@camelspit @arson-anarchy-death

Councillor Kenric Fathdon and his secret lover, Councillor Oralie, were the butt of several jokes in the first few books due to their clear affections for each other that both clearly weren't fully trying to hide despite the law against Councillors falling in love. As the story continued, however, and Kenric was murdered by his former colleague Fintan, the reader gains further insight into both the origins of their affections for each other, and what kept them from walking away from the Council in the first place, making their separation all the more tragic.

ROUGH BEGINNINGS:

Kenric and Oralie's first interactions after the latter was elected to the Council were anything but sweet or loving. In fact, they hated each other, especially after Kenric delayed confirming Oralie's election to the Council: "I’ve always wondered why it took so many days for everyone to reach a consensus, since Emery had told me I was the only Empath up for consideration. But apparently it was you" (Stellarlune). One of Kenric's memories that is recovered from the cache takes place following Oralie's coronation as Councillor, and they spend most of it arguing; Oralie thanks him for "dropping the polite act" and refers to him as "my enemy." Kenric makes his own sarcastic comments in response. Though Kenric claims that his reluctance to confirm her as a Councillor was due to his concerns about the fragility of Empathy, their rivalry may have actually been a reaction to the connection they both felt—something Oralie confirms herself: "We definitely did [hate each other]. It took years for us to respect each other—and even longer before we figured out that most of our resentment was a defense mechanism to help us fight our deeper feelings" (Stellarlune). Psychologists refer to this phenomenon as a cognitive defense mechanism known as "reaction formation," where someone will "defend" themselves against an unwanted attitude towards a person by unconsciously treating in the opposite manner of their true feelings. Kenric and Oralie's mutual antipathy, therefore, would betray their true affections for each other. And indeed, they did harbor great affection for each other, to the point where everyone around them noticed.

DANCING AROUND EACH OTHER:

Oralie and Kenric's interactions, once their mutual hatred had faded, could best be described as "flirty" or "overly fond." Kenric often called her by a nickname, "Ora," which no one else in the series has called her, demonstrating a certain connection they shared that Oralie had with no other elf. In fact, she herself described it as "a very special connection" (Stellarlune). Kenric often reached for her hand or touched her cheek in a subtle display of his affection, and made thinly veiled comments about his affection for her: "I always say too much when I'm with you" (Unlocked 420). Some of his comments were far less veiled/subtle: "Kenric flashed a smug grin as he stepped closer—so close, the toes of their shoes touched. 'I seem to remember you losing your train of thought twice the other day when I wore that gray jerkin with the emeralds on the collar. The one you've always said brings out the flecks of green in my eyes.' He batted his lashes" (Unlocked 421). Oralie seemed very fond of the time they spent together, remarking, "He could be quite charming when he wanted to be" (Stellarlune). However, the love they shared couldn't—or wouldn't—ever be something they could bring to the public eye.

ILL-FATED CONFESSIONS:

Their mutual pining came to a head in a memory that was washed from Oralie's mind and stored in her cache as a Forgotten Secret. Upon reflecting that sometimes he wasn't proud to be a Councillor, Kenric confided in Oralie that he was considering resigning, and begged her to come with him: "I may not be an Empath, but I know I'm not alone in this. Don't tell me you've never wished...you don't have to keep fighting this" (Unlocked 424). Oralie halfheartedly urged him to not say it aloud, but it only spurred him on to say heatedly, "Because of love, Ora. We both know that's what this is, no matter how hard we pretend otherwise" (Unlocked 424). In this moment, he named their mutual connection, asked her to think of the life and they family they could have together, and Oralie seemed tempted—she leaned into his hand—but then told him she "can't do this." And rather than be hurt, or angry, Kenric only went on to prove how well he knew Oralie, by guessing her most devastating secret and the very thing that kept them apart: Oralie's secret involvement with the Black Swan and contribution to Project Moonlark. No matter how hurt he was by her refusal to be together, he still supported her by agreeing to hide her secret, hide their love for each other, and not turn her in for breaking her oath: "And..I understand. Or I'm trying to, anyway" (Unlocked 426). Beyond that, he told her that he'd stay on the Council with her, because her daughter would need allies. His love for her stretched so far that he automatically agreed to commit his life to a job he was unhappy with, if it meant protecting her child. Oralie, too, was clearly longing to agree to his plea and run away together: "He leaned toward her and her lips parted, like she might let him kiss her. But at the last second she turned her face away" (Unlocked 425). Though Kenric never stopped hoping that things will change, they continued to not-so-subtly remain in love but apart until Kenric's untimely death.

FOREVER APART:

Sophie caught on to Oralie and Kenric's mutual attraction from the very first day she came to the Lost Cities, between observation and reading Bronte's mind. She noticed Kenric "scooting his chair a touch closer to Oralie's than he really needed to" (Keeper 45), then caught Bronte thinking about how he'd caught them: "And you're tired of watching Kenric stare at Oralie.' Bronte's jaw fell open and Kenric's face turned as red as his hair. Oralie looked down at her plate, her cheeks flushing pink" (Keeper 48). Others, too, had much to say about Kenric and Oralie's closeness; Edaline commented that Jolie's party dress was, "probably the most talked about thing at the party—even more than how many times Councillor Kenric asked Councillor Oralie to dance" (Everblaze 108). They lived in neighboring castles; Kenric's surname was the password to Oralie's cache, and Kenric's required Oralie's eyelash to open. He was devoted enough that Sophie could instantly rule out the possibility of his survival by realizing, "Kenric would never let Oralie suffer" (Neverseen 469). Kenric also remained protective over Oralie—she reflected that "He always insisted on being involved in everything I did" (Unlocked 419), and that "He always kept me out of anything he'd decided was 'too intense'" (Unlocked 423). Clearly, Kenric did his best to keep Oralie safe, even if they couldn't be together. And he clearly thought often about what could have been, as he paid a visit to the matchmakers to confirm that he and Oralie would have been each other's first choice. Oralie commented on how Kenric was "usually far more cautious" about keeping their mutual adoration a secret—no matter how obvious comments like "You always make everything better" (Everblaze 186) might have seemed to those around them. But as tragically separated as they might have seemed, this was nothing compared to their final separation after Fintan's murder of Kenric.

ORALIE'S GRIEF:

Kenric's death shook Oralie to her very core, even months after his planting. The sight which confirmed to Sophie that Kenric was truly gone was the image of "the rest of the Councillors gathered around a sobbing Oralie" (Everblaze 203). Oralie was so devastated by her lover's loss that even the full strength of the Council could console her; this was made even clearer by Sophie's narration of the Council attending the funeral: "But the finery didn't make them look any less weary and miserable. Especially Oralie. Her eyes were nothing more than puffy red slits, and she leaned on her goblin bodyguards like they were the only things keeping her standing" (Everblaze 215). To be so crushed by someone's loss that she was rendered unable to stand up on her own, Kenric was clearly very, very important to Oralie. And the marks never faded, even with time; after Bronte referenced Kenric's death, Sophie commented, "Silence followed, and Sophie had to steal a glance at Oralie, feeling her heart twist when she watched Oralie's eyes turn glassy. Clearly all the months since Kenric's death hadn't lessened Oralie's grief over losing the person everyone had suspected she'd secretly been in love with—and who'd obviously been in love with her, too" (Legacy 145). Clearly, Oralie was significantly impacted by Kenric's death, and continued to be so for months and months. It affected everything from her clothing choices at the Peace Summit during Lodestar to her decision to hold Sophie back from hurting Gethen as he taunted her, because "Kenric would have wanted me to" (Lodestar 334). The residual impact of his death also left Oralie wondering if there was anything she could have done to prevent it. With Kenric's death fresh, Oralie risked her position on the Council to fulfill his last wish: that his cache be given to Sophie. During that tearful exchange, Oralie added, "'Though I should've done more to help.' Tears slipped down Oralie's cheeks. 'I should've done so many things'" (Neverseen 23). Though Oralie at first seemed to be only referring to how she hadn't been able to do anything to prevent Kenric's death despite fearing that it would happen, she also was likely referencing her choice not to resign with him. Before, she was clearly regretful but firmly unyielding in that decision, but now, with him gone, she perhaps wondered if it truly was worth it to sacrifice their life together. In another moment of reflection, this time about Oralie's inability to save Mr. Forkle's twin, he told her, "'One thing I've had to learn,' Mr. Forkle interrupted, 'and I suspect you know this better than most—is that it's far too easy to analyze a tragedy after the fact and feel like you should've been able to prevent it,'" and she responded, "'Yes,' Oralie whispered, 'It is.' Sophie had a feeling Oralie was thinking about the day Councillor Kenric was taken from them" (Nightfall 124). Even months after his death, Oralie carried the weight of his absence and the regrets she had every single day, demonstrating the true extend of his importance to her.

CONCLUSION:

Both Kenric and Oralie are primarily characterized by their devotion to each other. Though in recent books each has gained further depth, between Oralie's reveal as Sophie's mother and Kenric's erased memory of meeting with Prentice, they cannot even seem to be mentioned without referencing the other. From a reader's perspective, their dynamic is fascinating: they hated each other, then fell in love but were kept apart, then Oralie refused to walk away from the Council even if it meant being with Kenric, then Kenric remained devoted by her side despite her rejection, and then he died and it clearly came close to breaking Oralie. They shared a common love, but also a sense of duty that prevented them from acting on that love, and a clear loyalty for each other that never wavered. Kenric and Oralie are the ultimate doomed star-crossed lovers, kept apart not only by fate, but also by death itself.

#roisin's reading rumble #kenric fathdon #kotlc oralie #councillor oralie #councillor kenric #kotlc #kotlc meta #stellarlune spoilers #hopefully this isn't late SLKDFJKLSD #i don't want to know how many words this is also #sorry for the no stellarlune page numbers i don't have the book 😭

[susie-dreemurr]

(Was out so liveblogs of where I stopped in HXH election arc up till beginning of ep 144 were written in notes app. It’s long .)

Lmaooo even Hisoka is like “bitch you think Killua loved you? Tf is wrong with you”

Oh my God Pariston is a fucking influencer

Let’s fucking go

LEORIO. AND KURAPIKA. ALALUIEA

Gon is LITERALLY IN THE SAME TOWN as Gin but he can’t go see him because he’s in a coma. Fuck everything and FUCK GIN

LEORIO THE GOAT I LITERALLY DAYDREAMED ABOUT A CHARACTER TELLING EXACTLY THIS TO GIN. LEORIO JUST LIKE ME FR FR

LEORIO THTE GOAT PUNCHED GIN IN THTE FACT AND TOLD HIM TO “DIE YOU ASSHOLE” THATS MY BOY

LETS GOOOO LEORIO PUNCHING GIN IN THE FACE NOT ONLY SAVED THE ELECTION BUT ALSO MADE HIM GET THIRD PLACE IN CANDITACY. GIN DYING IS WHAT THE PEOPLE WANT. GIVE IT TO THEM. I love democracy

Please Leorio win this election it would be so fucking funny. If not you then Morel because Bisky is too cool to be president as wel so

HELP “Gin Freecs o vagabundo dos Zodíacos. Foram votos de pena que o colocaram aqui?” Quem quer que for o comentarista (não posso ouvir a voz mas acho que é o feijão verde) te amo.

ILLUMI FUCKING DISOWNED HIM

Also I never mentioned it before but. Everyone but Killua deadass misgendering Alluka. Zoldyck family (aside of Killua and Alluka herself) will be killed in the gender war.

Btw Ginger Hisoka is strange to see can your hair go back to being pink-ish. Also can’t believe he’s the tamer one out of tbh he two Illumi really is unhinged

… did hisoka intentionally rile him up to show people Illumi is here. Because as soon as he found out there were rules Killua knew, maybe he’d be hoping then that Gon would be able to be saved after all. He wants to fight him so bad— HEP THE SHOW LITERALLY STATED THIS RIGHT AFTER. Unfortunately I know Hisoka well enough to tell.

“Alluka, if I were the only person in the whole world who loved you, would you be alright?” Fuck he’s asking that because he knows. He knows they don’t love her. At the very least, they don’t show it not even a little bit.

And yet all Alluka can hear is that there is someone in the world who loves her. All she can hear is she’s loved, after all.

Btw given that “you could have fought the president or those ants had you not been playing tag with Chrollo” so I’m assuming that the reason Kurapika isn’t going to Gon is because he’s back to hunting the Phantom Trouoe

NAOOOOOO GOTOH PUTA QUE PARIU. Tem algum jeito dele sobreviver com esse pescoço não :((( uma das duas únicas pessoas boa pro Killua nessa casa….

You know I was thinking to myself more jokingly that I was so starved for girls in shonen interacting that Canary and Amane are yuri to me, but… “You’re cute when you let lose a little” 🤨🏳️‍🌈? Canary do you have something to share with the class. (And then Amane blushes.)

HELP. Illumi and Hisoka “need more people” but neither of them have any friends aside of MAYBE each other so Illumi has to resort to brainwashing. Ok the cringe & fail duo

Ok is it bad that I’m rooting for the Anti-Netero faction. Like they make a good point (the exam allows to many crazy ass murderers in) … although their speech isn’t good, but like. Politics.

NO WAY GIN DIDNT EVEN SHOW UP JUSTIFY HIS LOSS. Cringe & fail.

Fucking. Hisoka trying to sabotage Illumi with a fake map but Illumi having a real one so Hisoka is just like “ah. Never mind.” Anyway fucking insane that we have to rely on Hisoka of all people

Btw I’m like 99% sure Amane is the “spy” Illumi is talking about so RIP my Yuri. Oh well, what fictional gay couple didn’t betray each other at least once, right?

Oh Tsubone was the spy. Nvm.

HES CRYING NOOO KILLUA :((( also fucking creepy too Illumi godamnit

KILLUA DISOWNING LETS GO

Hisoka don’t you dare do what I think you will. Get this murder card OUT of the hospital

Oh thank God it wasn’t gonna target Gon or Morel

Lets go call Gin’s ass out Pokémon character looking girl

#long post #live-blogging

[ausetkmt]

Biden condemns white Supremacy at site of church shooting in South Carolina

CHARLESTON, S.C. (AP) — Courting Black voters he needs to win reelection, President Joe Biden on Monday denounced the “poison” of white supremacy in America, declaring at the site of a deadly racist church shooting in South Carolina that such ideology has no place in America, “not today, tomorrow or ever.”

Biden spoke from the pulpit of Mother Emanuel AME Church, where in 2015 nine Black parishioners were shot to death by the white stranger they had invited to join their Bible study. The Democratic president’s speech followed his blunt remarks last Friday on the eve of the anniversary of the Jan. 6, 2021, riot at the U.S. Capitol, in which he excoriated former President Donald Trump for “glorifying” rather than condemning political violence.

At Mother Emanuel, Biden said “the word of God was pierced by bullets of hate, of rage, propelled not just by gunpowder, but by a poison, a poison that has for too long haunted this nation.”

That’s “white supremacy,” he said, the view by some whites that they are superior to other races. “It is a poison, throughout our history, that’s ripped this nation apart. This has no place in America. Not today, tomorrow or ever.”

It was a grim way to kick off a presidential campaign, particularly for someone known for his unfailing optimism and belief that American achievements are limitless. But it’s a reflection of the emphasis Biden and his campaign are placing on energizing Black voters amid deepening concerns among Democrats that the president could lose support from this critical constituency heading into the election.

Biden’s campaign advisers and aides hope the visit lays out the stakes of the race in unequivocal terms three years after the cultural saturation of Trump’s words and actions while he was president. It’s a contrast they hope will be paramount to voters in 2024.

AP AUDIO: Biden condemns white supremacy in a campaign speech at a SC church where Black people were killed.

AP correspondent Jennifer King reports.

Biden also used his second major campaign event of the year to thank the state’s Black voters. After an endorsement by Democratic Rep. Jim Clyburn, one of the highest-ranking African Americans in the U.S. House, the state made Biden the winner of its Democratic presidential primary in 2020. That, in turn, set him on a path to become the party’s nominee and defeat Trump to win the presidency.

“I owe you,” he said.

Biden was briefly interrupted when several people upset over by his staunch support for Israel in its war against Hamas called out that if he really cared about lives lost he would call for a cease-fire in Gaza to help innocent Palestinians who are being killed under Israel’s bombardment. The chants of “cease-fire now” were drowned out by audience members chanting “four more years.”

The president also swiped at Republican presidential candidates Nikki Haley, a former governor of South Carolina, and Trump, without naming either one.

Haley was governor at the time of the shooting and gained national attention for her response, which included signing legislation into law removing the Confederate flag from the state Capitol. But she has been on the defensive recently for not explicitly naming slavery as the root cause of the Civil War when the question was posed at a campaign event. Her campaign responded Monday with a list of comments attributed to Biden that it said showed he’s racially insensitive.

Biden called it a “lie” that the war was about states’ rights. “So let me be clear, for those who don’t seem to know: Slavery was the cause of the Civil War. There’s no negotiation about that.”

Haley, speaking at a Fox News Channel town hall on Monday, pushed back that it was “offensive” for Biden to give a political speech at the church. She also raised Biden’s ties to Democratic segregationist senators early in his career.

During his successful 2020 run for the White House, Biden faced criticism from fellow Democratic contenders for alluding to his work with Sens. James Eastland of Mississippi and Herman Talmadge of Georgia while trying to make a point about lost civility in national politics.

“I don’t need someone who palled around with segregationists in the ‘70s and has said racist comments all the way through his career lecturing me or anyone in South Carolina about what it means to have racism, slavery, or anything related to the Civil War,” Haley said.

On more current events, Biden noted the scores of failed attempts by Trump in the courts to overturn the 2020 election in an attempt to hold onto power, as well as the former president’s embrace of the deadly Jan. 6 insurrection at the Capitol.

“Let me say what others cannot: We must reject political violence in America. Always, not sometimes. Always. It’s never appropriate,” Biden said. He said “losers are taught to concede when they lose. And he’s a loser,” meaning Trump.

It was June 17, 2015, when a 21-year-old white man walked into the church and, intending to ignite a race war, shot and killed nine Black parishioners and wounded one more. Biden was vice president when he attended the memorial service in Charleston.

Biden’s aides and allies say the shootings are among the critical moments when the nation’s political divide started to sharpen and crack. Though Trump, the current Republican presidential front-runner, was not in office at the time and has called the shooting “horrible,” Biden is seeking to tie Trump’s current rhetoric to such violence.

Two years after the attack, as the “Unite The Right” gathering of white nationalists in Charlottesville, Virginia, erupted in violent clashes with counterprotesters. Trump said merely that “there is blame on both sides.”

Biden and his aides argue it’s all part of the same problem: Trump refused to condemn the actions of the white nationalists at that gathering. He’s repeatedly used rhetoric once used by Adolf Hitler to argue that immigrants entering the U.S. illegally are “poisoning the blood of our country,” yet insisted he had no idea that one of the world’s most reviled and infamous figures had used similar words.

And Trump continues to repeat his false claims that he won the 2020 election, as well as his assertion that the Capitol rioters were patriotic and those serving prison time are “hostages.”

At Mother Emanuel, Biden revisited themes from the Jan. 6 anniversary speech he delivered Friday.

Biden has repeatedly suggested that democracy itself is on the ballot, asking whether it is still “America’s sacred cause.”

Trump, who faces 91 criminal charges stemming from his efforts to overturn his loss to Biden and three other felony cases, argues that Biden and other top Democrats are themselves seeking to undermine democracy by using the legal system to thwart the campaign of Biden’s chief rival.

South Carolina is the first official Democratic nominating contest where Biden wants another strong showing.

In an interview with The Associated Press before Biden’s appearance, Malcolm Graham, a brother of Charleston church victim Cynthia Graham-Hurd, said the threat of racism and hate-fueled violence is part of a needed national conversation about race and American democracy.

“Racism, hatred and discrimination continue to be the Achilles’ heel of America, of our nation,” said Graham, a city councilman in Charlotte, North Carolina. “Certainly, what happened to the Emanual Nine years ago is a visible example of that. What happened in Buffalo, years later, where people were killed under similar circumstances, shows that racism and discrimination are still real and it’s even in our politics.”

After the speech, Biden met privately with religious leaders and family members and survivors of the church shooting. He also dropped in at Hannibal’s Kitchen, a soul food restaurant, to shake hands.

Later Monday, Biden flew to Dallas to make a brief stop at a memorial service for Eddie Bernice Johnson, the influential former Texas congresswoman who died on New Year’s Eve. Johnson was 89.

Biden said in a statement last week that he and Johnson had worked together during her 30 years in Congress and he was grateful for her friendship and partnership.

#biden #jim crow joe #Biden condemns white Supremacy at site of church shooting in South Carolina #Black LIves Matter #Mother Emanuel #violence in america #hate crimes #white lies #white hate #white supremacy

[achubbydumpling]

A Little Extra: Too Fat For Furniture

Rating: Explicit Words: 1419 Pairing: None just Lee Additional Tags: Extreme Weight Gain, Mobility Struggles, Breaking Furniture, Diets (mentioned), but Lee doesn't lose any weight

[on AO3]

After getting shot and nearly bleeding out in a remote forest in the middle of nowhere Lee was less than eager to return to work. In his absence, one of his former deputies had campaigned to be elected Sheriff. Of course, he'd won.

Lee had been bitter the first few weeks, but slowly the blessing in disguise had revealed itself. Suddenly, Lee was to be pitied instead of hated. His poor sister and that terrible incident with the Russel boy.

It was like the whole town had forgotten about any of his unsavoury business from Before. Obviously, Lee took advantage of that.

It started when his neighbour brought over a pie.

"I know you boys don't cook well. I wouldn't want you starving after that tragedy!"

Lee was perfectly capable of feeding himself, but he wasn't about to decline free dessert.

"Aw, thank you, Ms Smith. You didn't have to but… yeah, you know what? I have been having some difficulty readjusting, you know?" Lee tacked on an awkward laugh for full effect, and it worked like a charm.

Ms Smith's expression softened, and she patted him on the shoulder.

"I know it's difficult. You know when my husband died…"

Listening to her blabber about her husband got on Lee's nerves quickly, but she promised to bring by some more food tomorrow.

With that, the flood gates were opened.

The whole town must've heard about what Lee said because they all came flocking to his house carrying platters and platters of food. Even after a month, a few stubborn souls stuck around to make sure he was well-fed. And it sure was showing.

He'd never been skinny or anything, but the bit of pudge around his middle blossomed into a full-on gut. A heavy ball that sat on his thighs and pushed out into his lap more with every day.

Lee made a few half-assed attempts at losing the weight.

No beer before bed or no desserts after dinner, but he rarely stuck with it longer than a week and any weight he did lose came back double or triple the week after that.

'Well-fed' quickly turned into 'fat'. Lee was slowly encroaching on a size that he hadn't ever seen on other people.

On one memorable call, he'd had to help a man weighing double what he did back then out of his tub. The guy had to have been 400lbs, maybe even closer to 450lbs.

Lee had crossed 300lbs after eight months of consistent feeding. After a year he was pushing closer to 350lbs than 300lbs, but he ended the year without crossing that boundary just yet.

Seeing that number on the scale shocked Lee back into dieting for two whole weeks. Food piled up in his fridge and freezer as he valiantly tried to stick to tiny portions. It all culminated in a two-day binge that ended with Lee pinned to his sofa.

He'd never really understood how someone could struggle to get to his feet, but he learned then. No matter how much he tried, his stomach hurt too much. His bloated belly got in the way and his puffy arms couldn't get any leverage on the battered sofa.

Lee had done a number on the sofa. A deep dent into the left side where he usually sat to watch TV (or stuff his face more frequently now). The small dining table had quickly gotten too uncomfortable for his growing gut and eventually, one of the foldable chairs had given out under his heft.

He'd struggled just to get up from the floor again. It was a humbling experience but with food still, on the table, Lee didn't think too much about it and just moved to the living room. Not like he could break his sofa, right?

Wrong.

It did take until Lee reached over 400lbs. His rickety, old sofa just wasn't made for this weight constantly torturing it. Sitting down normally had just gotten too much work and one of the supporting slats broke with a loud crack when Lee let himself fall down.

While it scared the hell out of Lee, he'd reached a sort of breaking point. There wasn't any use in losing weight now, right? And he'd surely plateau at some point. So, he still ate his breakfast.

Food deliveries had petered out a while ago. Once he'd really blown up no one wanted to keep feeding the fat (ex)-Sheriff, but his pension was good enough to keep up with his habit. He didn't need money for much else.

400lbs turned into 450lbs without him really noticing. Lee didn't think it was possible to gain 50lbs without so much as a creeping suspicion but sure enough, his (new) scale wasn't lying. His clothes were getting tighter too, but Lee had had enough foresight to get something with a bit more room.

A lot more room actually because his clothes held up until 500lbs. That's when the weight really hit him. He'd been struggling with lots of little things so far and slowly decreasing stamina, but it was like he'd crossed a magic boundary from being able to still do most things to struggling for breath while he was sitting on his ass (to eat another meal).

Things started getting really scary when Lee felt both sides of his sofa brushing his sides. No matter how he sat his wide hips and thick love handles were always brushing the sofa's arms.

Of course, that didn't slow a proper glutton down.

If anything, Lee increased his food intake. Some subconscious realisations that he was cutting his life short with every additional pound he gained, every hour he spent on his ass instead of exercising and every single, greasy bite he shoved past his lips. So, of course, he needed to make the best of the time he had left.

Lee committed to his lifestyle of hedonism, not just food-wise, but also by overindulging in his drinking, spending his pension instead of saving anything and getting even lazier. Most of his days were spent inside, but occasionally, he longed for a change of scenery and undertook the laborious trek outside.

Walking had become increasingly difficult, and his gait had turned into a shuffling waddle. The heavy bag on his shoulder didn't make it easier, but he couldn't imagine sitting outside without something to snack on and a few drinks.

Just lifting his feet exhausted him and his joints screamed at him with every lumbering step. But he made it out to the porch. It was a cool evening and Lee sighed when the breeze cooled his overheated skin.

However, that moment of relief wasn't enough to cut through the pain of walking and standing. He spotted the porch swing not too far away. He hadn't been out here in a few months, so it looked a bit run down, but the wood looked sturdy enough. Surely, it could hold him. He dropped the bag full of food right in front of the swing.

Then, Lee tried to sit down as gently as possible but at his size that wasn't really an option. He crashed down onto the wooden bench and while it groaned underneath his weight, it held.

For a moment.

Just as Lee started to trust the construction of the porch swing and started to relax one of the chains to his right creaked with an ominous tone. A second later it snapped, and Lee was dumped to the ground.

The porch shook under the impact. Lee's first instinct was to get back to his feet, but the walk outside had exhausted him so much, that he took the opportunity to finally catch his breath.

Dread set in at the realization of how fat he'd let himself get. Every meal flashed before him, but before he could dwell on it the urgent need to breathe took over his mind again. Wheezing gulps of breath that still didn't seem to fill his lungs. His chest was too heavy for them to fully expand.

It took some time before he could concentrate on anything but breathing. Lee was still wheezing a bit now, but to his delight, he spotted the bag he'd nearly crushed. It was squished against his leg and Lee actually struggled a bit to reach around to grab a package of sugar cookies.

Once he crammed his mouth full of cookies all those negative thoughts vanished, and Lee fell back into the mindless consumption that had gotten him into this situation.

#Extreme Weight Gain #Mobility Struggles #Breaking Furniture #Diets (mentioned) #but Lee doesn't lose any weight tho #Get Beached #Get Beached 2022 #Too Fat for Furniture

[livelymyrtle]

Honestly atp I don’t know how to feel about Lin Manuel Miranda. I don’t want to be in that crowd of the “Hamilton and everything else he does sucks and it’s all awful” because it’s not really true… Hamilton was very good (mostly brought down from excellence by the second act), and I actually quite liked Encanto (aside from the fact that Abuela gets pretty much excused at the end + Disney forced him to do stuff like writing in Isabela). In The Heights I haven’t paid much attention to, but what I saw I remember being good, and I know he has plenty of other gems…

so why is it that I, like so many people, am just not feeling it? Netizens have recently been feeling more meh on him or even begun to hate him. So why this shift in perspective?

I think the sudden scrutiny against LMM has two main components:

1) Overexposure

After Disney has been putting him in everything, which was already after everyone was saturated with Hamilton and ITH stuff, I think people are just getting a bit sick of the man. It’s especially damning for Lin that he tends to make every main character himself, and that he has such a distinctive lyrical style(or rather, he is unwilling to diverge from that style - he wrote How Far I’ll Go for Moana and that was more off par for him). As a result, it just feels like you are watching the same thing over and over and over again with him - and at this point it’s just getting kind of exhausting to see him all the time doing what feels like the exact same thing.

It also probably doesn’t help that he has become associated with Disney just as Disney has begun losing popular favor. Nowadays, they mostly are doing mediocre movies with the exact same plot, characters, art style, aesthetic, and message(basically trying to be Studio Ghibli in plot except that they don’t have the slow pensiveness, nor the understanding of what consumers actually want, nor the desire to create art for art’s sake), and extremely awful live action remakes that literally nobody likes, so Disney’s new stuff has been bleeding popularity like a bullet wound. Now, people think of Lin in the same vein that think of their disappointment with Disney, which is probably not making him look better. I’ve even seen people blame Disney’s negative shift on him, which isn’t really fair, but… I can see why someone would draw that conclusion, you know?

2) More importantly, cultural shift in attitudes.

Post COVID and what I like to call the Reality Exodus, everyone went on their phones, got really depressed and pessimistic, and got really online. I think that this has directly lead to why people are no longer ok with some aspects of LMMs stuff. In 2015-16, we all loved Hamilton: it was an inclusive and fresh new take on US history, something that we were pretty starved of pride in. With the election of Trump, things seemed bleak: but people remained hopeful still that there could be pride in this country. The concept of Miranda only hiring actors of color was also just the right amount of groundbreaking but not too shocking for the culture - we were committed to diversity, but not so much to the point where we wanted truly diverse stories to be told, so the all-POC cast in a very white story was a good way to knock on the glass ceiling without breaking it. The added message of “we are all a part of America” was fitting for the widespread “we don’t see color, everyone is welcome, hakuna matata” brand of anti-racism that was the most widely accepted narrative at the time.

But as we got into COVID, we see In the Heights released. And all of a sudden, the Twitter mob has come out against LMM for… colorism in his casting, of all things??? Casting that was very diverse?? And that he wasn’t even in charge of anyway???

In hindsight the whole Twitter cancellation thing seems ridiculous, but I do think it’s an important example of how much more aware and critical we had gotten as a culture. And I think our new perspectives shifted our views on some of his earlier work, too: namely, Hamilton.

After COVID, a play written by a nonblack man about rapping slave masters (but they are all played by POC) didn’t really seem all that revolutionarily anti-racist. We as a culture had developed our understanding of racial theory to a different, more radical narrative: we should start uplifting the stories of real POC and make actual changes. All of a sudden, LMM’s rooting for diversity just didn’t seem genuine anymore the the culture at large. I think that has played one of the biggest parts in his loss of popular favor.

And that’s where we get to now: I just don’t know what to think. I mean, on the one hand, of course Lin Manuel Miranda does some great stuff artistically. But his art, his messaging, his image in general has become associated with an era of lenient attempts at equality that I just don’t really support. And no, before you think it, this isn’t going to devolve into the regular separation of art and artist stuff. But it is a question of separation: Can we separate the goodness of an art piece from its intent? Can we judge art or media as being good objectively? And how important of a part does messaging play in what makes something “good”?

My answer? I don’t know. I need a cup of tea and a nap. Peace.

#lin manuel miranda #alexander hamilton #lmm #in the heights #encanto #hamilton musical #musicals #personal essay #commentary/opinion #social commentary #media analysis #we live in a society #theater #discourse #philosophy #breadtube