#he used to be my friend. I do not want to call anyone willfully staying in the army my friend though. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arizonaconservativegal · 3 months

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For the fact that Bruce Jenner is a man with reproductive sexual organs of man same as me and how the fuck does that make him different than any other man? when in fact he is a man. How the fuck do you think he is woman just like yourself a natural born female? If you think he is a women how come he cannot get periods or goes through what a woman´s body goes through and if younger how would that man get pregnant? like to hear your leftists logic on men like him who think he is a woman.

Here's the thing about Caitlyn Jenner

Obviously she is biologically male. Obviously she is not the same as a biological woman. She's also not trying to tell anyone that she gets pms or should be allowed to compete against women in sports (quite the opposite of that, in fact). As far as I can tell, she's just trying to live as normal a life as someone like her is able but she's under no illusions that she will ever be quite the same and she's not trying to change the rest of us to make herself feel more normal.

I'm totally fine with this. She's not bothering me. She's not doing anything that affects anyone else.

So yeah I'm going to call her Caitlyn and refer to her as 'she' and all that. She hasn't gone by Bruce in ten years. My friend just got married and took her husband's last name. That doesn't make her biologically a Smith. But she's part of the family now so we're going to call her Smith. Caitlyn Jenner is not biologically a woman but as far as I'm concerned, refusing to acknowledge that she is living the way the rest of us do is just as silly as refusing to call my friend by her new last name. I can think it's a little weird, just like I'd think it was a little weird if my friend had decided to hyphenate her last name instead of just going with Smith, but so what?

I don't care what adults want to do with their own body and what they want to call themselves. I only care when they start to impose on others.

As far as all the other trans stuff goes...

I think there are a lot of kids who would have been goth or emo when I was growing up but these days are being told that they are probably trans or whatever. They just feel out of place and are searching for something that makes them feel understood. And while I don't really see the harm in letting them buy some new clothes and cut their hair a certain way to see if they feel better, there is no good reason for any medical procedures to be performed on them. I think there are a lot of well intentioned but misguided people trying to help them and I think there are a lot of sick fucks trying to take advantage for politics or profit.

I think there are also a lot more sick fucks who like to pretend to be trans whenever it's convenient and gives them access to someone they can prey upon. But let's just be adults here for a second - I'm pretty sure we can all tell the difference between someone like Caitlyn Jenner and some creep that just got convicted of raping four women and has decided suddenly that he would like to serve his sentence in the women's prison. Come on.

Locker rooms, bathrooms, and prisons are sex segregated for a reason and should stay that way. I would be perfectly happy to see some more gender neutral locker rooms and bathrooms in addition to the women's and men's rooms - but I am vehemently opposed to making either one of those the new gender neutral space.

I am not going to entertain the idea that transwomen are identical to the rest of us. Sports are sex segregated for a reason as well. I don't really know what would be fair to trans athletes but I know for sure that making the women's team the 'everyone team' is not fair to anyone. Anyone pushing that is just willfully blinded by politics.

I am not going to refer to mothers as 'birthing people' or gynecology patients as 'people with vaginas' or any of that nonsense. I am also not going to say 'people with two legs' to be sensitive to people who have fewer. We all know what we're talking about and if you are offended by your own differences, then I'm sorry but that's not something some sparkly new language is going to fix for you. I'm certainly not going to entertain the idea of changing the definition of 'woman.' I'm not going change how I refer to myself to appease anyone else. I will call you whatever name you want but you don't get to redefine who I am.

And if you pick a really stupid name or fake pronoun for yourself, don't be shocked when someone makes fun of it the way we all make fun of Xitter or some millennial naming her kid MacKeighleigh.

But here's the other thing about Caitlyn Jenner - she is not any of those people. Actually I don't think most trans people are any of those people. I think almost all of that garbage comes from people who are misappropriating the label or who fancy themselves activists and they're giving the actual trans community a bad rap. I think most trans people are pretty normal aside from the obvious.

We have a handful of legitimate issues to work out in regards to the bathrooms and sports and I'm sure that is a little uncomfortable to have to hash out but I think if we stop trying to be assholes on purpose, we can figure it out.

#oops this got long #and probably not very well organized #oh well

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obey-me-headquarters · 2 years

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Mc is a menace part 2 Electric Boogaloo

- They teach all the demons what the floor is lava game is. Lucifer just assumes they're sharing a bit of their culture. Lucifer is a fool. Now at random times during the day they will shout "the floor is lava!" And jump onto a taller surface. The brothers play this game extremely seriously because they are Competitive, and think that this is just like, a normal part of human culture. Lucifer thinks the game is childish and refuses to play along. Satan and Mc mocks him for dying in lava each time. Lucifer states that lava doesn't even hurt him! He's a demon!

Diavolo absolutely loves this game and starts to call out "the floor is lava!' Himself. Lucifer is planning what knots to use when he strings Mc up when during an important meeting with other demons nobles, Diavolo calls out "the floor is lava!".

One time, when there wasn't enough cover, Beel picked up Mc and Belphie to protect them from the lava. Solomon asked Mc if they would like to learn how to create real lava for the game.

- This is less of a "Mc is a menace who needs to be put away for their crimes" and more my Mc lore. But. My Mc has absolutely no shame. They're the kind of the friend who hypes up the friend group 24/7. They see no problem in yelling across the hallway at RAD at Satan that they think his hair looks nice.

Whenever Levi goes on a self conscious ramble they take him by the shoulders and literally starts shaking him while yelling praise. Will force Levi to repeat the praise with louder and louder shouts. Lucifer tires to act all sly whenever they compliment him, like "Oh really? Mind repeating that again?" Your tricks wouldn't work on them Luci. They will repeat the compliment, and goes on a ramble so long they he starts to blush and cuts them off.

Asmo thinks that this is amazing, and frequently fishes for compliments. It's unfortunate that Mc is such a menace. Half the time they will ramble on why Asmo is the best being to ever exist. The other half is spent willfully ignorant as they drag it out and try to force Asmo to admit he just wants praise.

Is actively trying to befriend Henry 1.0 even time Barbatos invites them over for tea, after tea they sneak into the secret tunnels and leave out food for the snake. Barbatos knows this, but since there's no stopping Mc when they put their mind to something, he leaves it be. He doesn't want them to actually take Henry away - the snake is good for pest control.

- I have not gotten to the beach episode in the game but I do have beach thoughts!

They bring knives and will not tell anyone why they're bringing knives to the beach. When the arrive they tell the brothers they "need to do something" and that "will be back soon". Which is, objectively, the scariest thing they could have said. When they sneak away they start giving the hell crabs knives. Ducks down real low and starts pspspspspsp at the crabs before gently placing the knife into their claw.

On devilgram people start complaining of being stabbed in the legs by crabs. Mc couldn't be more proud.

My Mc can technically swim. If placed into water they know how to stay afloat. It's just that water absolutely hates them. Takes one step into the ocean a wave just knocks them onto their ass. Before they can even get up another wave crashes into them, keeping them down. They are drowning in less than a foot of water. The brothers just kinda stare at em, not sure what to do and if this is a survival of the fittest situation. After a moment Beel walks up and picks them up by their arm pits.

Spends the rest of the time at the beach looking for pretty rocks. Finds rocks that match every body and gifts it to them. And since everyone is so absolutely whipped for Mc, they keep the pretty colored rock.

- they will just fling themselves at any of the characters. It's a normal day at RAD until Mammom hears the pitty petter of feet running towards him. He turns around just in time to see Mc run, leap, and jump towards him. On pure instinct he reaches out and catches them. Before Mammon can ask wtf they're doing Mc loudly proclaims that Mammon passed! Good job! Passed what? Mc will not say.

Mc will climb into high surfaces to drop down into the demons arms. Satan and them will be at the library and Mc will call Satan over just to jump off of the book shelf ladder.

Nobody has failed to catch them because they're afraid what will happen if they don't. Barbatos is lucky because he has his future sight, so he has time to place down whatever he's holding and hold out his arms in preparation. Mc does this to Diavolo to and he's the only character who looks forward to Mc's surprise attacks. Man is so touched starved he just wants a hug.

- When Mc returns to the Devildom they bring along a roomba. Lucifer thinks that it's just there for cleaning. Mc tapes a knife to it. The brothers try and complain about stabby to them, but they retort that they're apart of the family! They can't get rid of them!

#obey me #obey me mc #my post #not smut #i should probably actually draw a picutre of my Mc so yall get a feel of what they look like....and maybe a name reveal?

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 26 - ao3 -

“Qiren-xiong, would you like me to keep them back a little longer?” Lan Yueheng asked anxiously. He’d been biting his lip and wringing his hands and pacing hard enough to leave a mark on the floor. Lan Qiren really ought to let him go back to his mathematics and his alchemy, to abandon this sad sorry world of politics that the rest of them were mired in for the purer joys of academic discovery. “It’s just, they’re getting really insistent on talking with you…”

Lan Qiren sighed and put down the cup of tea that had already cooled without him taking a single sip.

“No,” he finally said. “It’s fine. I’m amazed you managed to keep them back this long.”

He had been working very hard these past few days. He’d just wanted a short break. An afternoon of silence, or even just a few shichen...

Apparently, he couldn’t even get that now.

Lan Yueheng beamed. “I got Zhang Xin to help! She’s keeping them all back – elders and teachers and fellow disciples and all.”

Lan Qiren frowned a little, thinking of the lady in question, who was fierce and fiery but definitely not fearsome or well-respected enough to hold back the teeming tide of Lan sect members desperate for Lan Qiren to stop ignoring them. “…do I want to know how?”

“With a club!”

Lan Qiren did not want to know how.

“I put explosives in the –”

“Please stop explaining,” Lan Qiren begged.

“You asked.”

Technically, Lan Qiren had asked if he wanted to know, but he shouldn’t stand on technicalities. Especially not now that he was –

He stopped that thought before completing it.

“Go out and tell them that I will not be taking any questions on my living conditions, quarters or clothing, any of the current rule modification proposals - it’s far too soon - and certainly none that are just about the current situation, and also that anyone who doesn’t have a question is not welcome,” he decided. “If there’s anyone left over, they can come inside and pose their question. If it’s not a good one, I will impose punishment on the basis of Concentrate on cultivation.”

In the end, there were only three people admitted out of the disappointed throngs of disciples outside. The first two questions were appropriate ones, being both purely administrative and critically necessary to the running of their sect; the last, however…

The disciple in question was one of the gate-guards.

He saluted. “There are visitors on the way in,” he reported. “From other sects.”

“Didn’t I already give orders that all access tokens not currently in the Cloud Recesses be revoked, and no new ones issued?” Lan Qiren asked curtly. “We are not currently accepting guests, and will not be until matters have been settled. You may inform them as much.”

The disciple hesitated.

“What is it?”

“The visitors in question…” The disciple hesitated again, and Lan Qiren frowned. “It’s Sect Leader Nie and Sect Leader Wen.”

Lan Qiren had been reaching for his cup of tea again, but his fingers stopped in mid-air.

“They’ve been very stubborn. Neither has agreed to go, no matter what we tell them, and they’ve been there all day, saying that they’ll stay standing at our gate until we let them in. Do – do the same orders apply to them?”

Lan Qiren looked down at his hand, frozen in midair. His fingers were trembling a little. Strain, probably; he’d had a very bad time for quite a while now, and even though he’d taken the time for it, he hadn’t actually slept properly. He’d only lain in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to absorb whatever little rest he could.

“They do,” he finally said, putting his hands back into his lap as if he could hide his misery from himself. “Dismissed.”

The last disciple left.

“Why won’t you let them in?” Lan Yueheng asked from behind him. “They’re your friends, aren’t you?”

He paused, falling silent for a brief moment.

“You could use friends right now, Qiren-xiong,” he finally said. “You really could.”

“I know,” Lan Qiren said, and felt the bitterness rise up in his throat until it almost choked him. “They are my friends, and one even more, my sworn brother. They are that, but they are not only that – they are also the sect leaders of two of the other Great Sects. Even if they don’t want to cross me or hurt me, their sect obligations must be always in the forefront of their minds, be their primary care and consideration, just as the Lan sect must be mine.”

Now, he added. Must be mine, now.

“But…”

“The sect comes first, Yueheng-xiong.” Lan Qiren was so tired that it felt like a physical ache. “It has to come first. First and foremost, above everything else. Haven’t we seen what happens if that’s not what’s done?”

Wasn’t everything they were suffering now all because his brother had put himself first, instead of the sect? He had equated his interests with the sect and in doing so harmed the sect so deeply, harmed all their family and all the rest of them, everyone that relied on them...how could Lan Qiren willfully repeat such a mistake, no matter how much he longed sometimes to do so?

“But -!”

“I’ve made my decision.”

“It’s the wrong one,” Zhang Xin said from the door, still holding that club of hers and looking as fierce as a small angry dog. “You’re the rule expert, aren’t you? Stop thinking about your brother for a moment and focus on them. As far as I’ve always heard, the rules say that you can’t just care for the sect, you have to care for yourself, too. Or else who’d be left to care for the sect?”

Lan Qiren flinched and looked down at his hands again.

He supposed she had a point.

“Yueheng-xiong,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Go after that disciple. Tell him…tell him that they still can’t enter, but that he should pass along a message to them. Tell him to tell them…” He hesitated. “If they truly wish to remain nearby, I will be available to meet with them in Caiyi Town ten days from now.”

That should be enough time to settle everything if he really exerted himself, Lan Qiren thought. All the preparations that needed to be made before the world could find out what had happened.

“They don’t have to,” he added, bitterness curling in his gut even as he tried to make it clear that he was speaking in earnest. “If they don’t want to. I won’t be offended if they don’t.”

After all, it would be asking rather a lot, forcing them to stay outside doing nothing for such a long time. Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie: they were sect leaders both, Great Sects at their command, and not possessed of a great deal of spare time. More than that, neither of them were especially patient people in the best of times, and much less so now that they were currently at odds with each other – though perhaps the fact that they’d put up with each other’s company long enough to yell at his gate-guard suggested that their recently frozen-over relationship had perhaps at last started to thaw.

Anyway, Lan Qiren wasn’t even doing them the courtesy of offering them accommodations within the Cloud Recesses, as anyone might reasonably expect. They’d have to stay in Caiyi Town instead, take a room at an inn like any ordinary mortal…truly, it would not be a surprise if they did not choose to stay.

It would be fine if they didn’t stay. It would be.

“I’ll pass it along,” Lan Yueheng promised, and ran out the door. Zhang Xin sniffed, but said no more. It was clear she would have preferred he do more, perhaps go and speak to them immediately, but she also knew that she’d pushed her insolence about as far as she could take it.

She was very brave.

“You should marry him,” Lan Qiren told her, thinking to himself that someone ought to be happy even if it wasn’t him, and she blinked at him. “Yueheng-xiong. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky.”

Zhang Xin blinked again, and then flushed. “Well…”

“You like romances, don’t you? Why not take the next step on this one?”

She waved her hands at him. “We’ll get there! Don’t rush us.”

“You don’t have parents, right?” Lan Qiren pressed. “If you like, I can act for them in making the arrangements –”

“I’ll consider that,” she hissed, her face now bright red. She pointed the club at him, and Lan Qiren hastily raised his hands in surrender; he knew what Lan Yueheng’s explosives were like. “Go back to moping. I’m starting to think I liked you better that way.”

Lan Qiren didn’t think she did.

“I need more ink,” he said instead. If he was going to have to make up for all of his brother’s failings and get the Lan sect into the state it needed to in order to be ready to face the storm that awaited them outside their gates within ten days, he would need to work hard, and that meant starting now. “Please fetch some for me. I promise not to bring it up again.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but bustled off, and Lan Qiren turned to apply himself to work.

Work was – he could do the work.

As long as he didn’t have to think about why he was doing it, or how long he would need to do it, not think about how this work wouldn’t just be for now but for the rest of his life, he could do it.

It took the full ten days and several sleepless nights, interspersed with sleep borne of pure exhaustion, but in the end Lan Qiren managed to make all the preparations he thought were necessary to minimize or at least endure the loss of face that the Lan sect would subject to once the world heard of rumors of what had happened. Even with the sanitized, filtered, cleaned-up version of it that they intended to spread, it would still hurt their reputation.

“You should take several days to yourself,” his music teacher advised, looking genuinely concerned, and his swordsmanship teacher nodded in agreement. “There will be more work to come, but none so soon.”

Lan Qiren nodded, being too tired to care about them worrying about him now, and went to the gate.

“Zhu Dawei,” he called, recognizing the disciple there. It was the same one who had brought him the news, ten days back; the one he’d sent back with the message. “Was there…”

He trailed off, not sure how to ask the question without seeming overly pathetic – by chance, do you know if my sworn brother and best friend abandoned me and returned to their sects, as any reasonable person would, or did they decide to wait an unreasonably long time in order to talk to me?

Zhu Dawei saluted adroitly. “Sect Leader Wen and Sect Leader Nie said to tell you that they will be waiting for you at the inn along the main waterway in Caiyi Town, the one with the red awning. They’re planning on dining at you hour if you would like to join them.”

He had good friends, Lan Qiren thought, feeling stabbing pains of emotions in his chest that he thought might even be a good thing. He nodded. “My thanks,” he said, and headed down the mountain.

Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie were there in the inn in one of the private suites that were available for rich guests, sitting at a table laid out with all the local specialties: six different dishes and tea and wine. They were bickering over something or another – Lan Qiren didn’t strain himself to listen, only paused a little outside the door, watching them both for a moment.

Having been forced to spend ten days’ time in close proximity had clearly been good for them: they were practically back to the way they had been before they’d fallen out, each one clearly genuinely at ease - Wen Ruohan with his smirks and his haughty sneers, Lao Nie with his booming laugh and expressive scowls. Perhaps they had even had the opportunity to actually talk to each other, to clear the air between them and make plain their respective positions, which Lan Qiren had been starting to think they never would - that Wen Ruohan would grow so resentful that he’d shut off his heart again and take Lao Nie back on the condition that he never speak of it again, and so let it fester as an unhealed wound. Lan Qiren had worried about the terrible things that might come of such lingering rage. He had not liked it, but had felt helpless to change it: after all, who on earth could force these two men to stay near to each other when they did not want to?

Him, apparently.

They looked good together, suited each other, he thought, watching them both. They were both tall and strong, fine men that exuded power and fierceness and determination in equal measure; it was a real pity that they weren’t quite the right match for each other.

Lao Nie caught sight of Lan Qiren standing at the door first. The moment he did, he turned away and rose to his feet. “Qiren! There you are – come in – sit! Sit, sit – have you eaten?”

“Earlier,” Lan Qiren said, coming in and trying to raise his hands in a salute that got quickly knocked aside. “I could eat again.”

“We insist on it,” Wen Ruohan said, looking him over with a judgmental frown. “I think you’ve gotten thinner…he’s gotten thinner, hasn’t he, Lao Nie?”

Lao Nie held Lan Qiren at arms length and looked him over critically. “Normally, Hanhan, I’d accuse you of being a mother hen and never let you live it down ever again,” he remarked, “but in this case I really think you’re right. His face is thinner than it was before, definitely a sign of losing weight too rapidly…tell us what happened, Qiren. There’s been no news at all from the Lan sect, only that there was some sort of crisis – some violence – and then all the gates to the Cloud Recesses were shut.”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing at his temples. He didn’t really want to think about it, but there was no avoiding it. “They were. The full details will be announced at the next discussion conference, which is coming up rapidly.”

“It is,” Lao Nie said. “I should know; I’m hosting. Will you tell us in advance what the news is?”

“I will.”

“Food first,” Wen Ruohan interjected. “No talking during meals, remember?”

Lao Nie made a face at him, but Lan Qiren smiled thinly at his sworn brother’s poorly concealed kindness and sat down. He ate quickly, the food largely tasteless on his tongue even though it was finely made and featured many of his favorites. They must have ordered them especially, knowing that he was coming tonight.

The quiet was a welcome reprieve, and allowed him to think over what he was going to say a little more thoroughly. He’d known, of course, that he’d have to tell them, but he hadn’t yet settled on exactly how to force the words from between his teeth…

When dinner was done and the dishes cleared, the only thing left on the table being the tea and the wine, he cleared his throat. “Did you rent the room?” he asked, and they nodded. “For how long?”

“We booked the whole month,” Wen Ruohan said carelessly. “It didn’t cost as much as all that.”

Caiyi Town was the nearest town to the Cloud Recesses, which was full of very rich cultivators. The prices here were far higher than a comparable inn in another place, and were nowhere near cheap even for a night - much less a month. More than that, Lan Qiren hadn’t seen any other guests, which made him suspect that Wen Ruohan had rented not only the room but the entire inn, making it the sort of expenditure more commonly seen among the scions of Lanling Jin.

Still, Lan Qiren did not complain or point out the inaccuracy. Not when he had hoped for something exactly like that.

“Good,” he said, and reached up to his forehead ribbon.

Both Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie gaped at him in stunned disbelief as he removed it, carefully folding it up like the precious thing that it was and tucking it away into his sleeve for safekeeping – even though the process took some time to accomplish, they had not yet recovered by the time he was done. They looked a bit like gawping fish.

“The forehead ribbon reminds you of your self-restraint,” Lan Qiren quoted. “I do not intend to maintain it tonight.”

More gawking. He ignored it.

“I’m intending on getting drunk,” he clarified, nodding at the jars of wine on the table. “I’ll drink as much as you allow me to. Could you keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t leave the premises? I can’t lose face for the sect right now, but both of you are considerably stronger than me, and faster, too. You can keep an eye on me and restrain my behavior, if necessary, and I would appreciate it if you would.”

“…of course,” Wen Ruohan said, exchanging glances with Lao Nie. “If that’s what you want, little Lan. We’ll care for you.”

“Can we ask why?” Lao Nie asked, always the blunt one.

Lan Qiren looked down at the table, gathered his courage, and looked back up at them. “I’m going to be attending the next discussion conference,” he said, and even he could hear how dull and depressed his already monotonous voice was. “At that time, you will need to call me Sect Leader Lan.”

“Sect - Sect Leader…? You?” Lao Nie was gaping again. “But – you –”

“What happened to Qingheng-jun?” Wen Ruohan asked, his eyes already narrowed as his mind rapidly churned over the information.

“He has entered permanent seclusion,” Lan Qiren said. His fingers had tightened into fists again, and his knuckles were white from the strain. “Along with his wife.”

“His – wife?”

“He Kexin?” Wen Ruohan asked. “He’s married – no, she married him?”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, because friends or no, brother or no, they were still sect leaders, still outsiders. He could not share with them the full story, at least not yet, not until he’d made sure they couldn’t use it against his sect. Not until there was a story that the whole world would accept as the truth. “They are married, and secluded. I am the next in line, and have therefore taken on the position.”

“But you wanted to travel,” Lao Nie said. “To play music, to go see new places. You had all those plans –”

Lan Qiren flinched.

“Be silent,” Wen Ruohan told Lao Nie. “Can’t you see you’re just making it worse? He knows.”

Yes, Lan Qiren knew. No one knew better than him the dreams he’d had, the plans he’d made, how much it had been a fixed part of his life – stronger than mere hope, it had been an expectation. He had never imagined that his life wouldn’t be what he planned to make of it.

He never imagined his life would be…like this.

“It is temporary,” he added, the rotten feeling of disappointment coating his tongue like a swallow of bitter medicine. “An examination has revealed that He Kexin is pregnant with my brother’s child. Although it is far too early for any medical indications, divination suggests that it will be a boy.”

And even if it wasn’t, well, Lan Yi had set a precedent for women to be allowed to be sect leaders, too.

The sect elders had compared the exceptional qualities of Lan Qiren’s brother against Lan Qiren’s own, compared their respective talents for cultivation and temperaments and their ways with people. That analysis complete, they had suddenly changed their tune: no more did they try to comfort Lan Qiren for his crushed dreams by painting pictures of the power he would obtain, of his children inheriting after him – as if Lan Qiren had ever cared about power, he who had never coveted the position of sect leader even once in his life, and had on account of his inclinations, or lack thereof, had already given up hope of children – and instead they spoke instead of Lan Qiren’s duty to his brother’s legitimate bloodline, his duty to the sect overall.

Lan Qiren had listened in silence for a while, barely restraining from sneering at their shallow and obvious hypocrisy, before striking a deal with them: he would take on the role of acting sect leader, as he had already known he had no choice but to do, and in time he would willingly step aside for his brother’s heir or heirs, if there was more than one, but he insisted on being the one to raise them.

He didn’t especially want to raise children, having no idea if he would be any good at it, but he didn’t trust anyone else in his sect to prioritize raising the children as children – as people of their own, rather than extensions of their father, as another chance to correct the mistakes of the past. To raise them with the rules as guidance, as support in times of weakness and pride in times of strength, not as an obstacle to be overcome; to try to do whatever he could to help them avoid the faults of the prior generation without crushing their souls the way his brother had tried to crush his.

He would give this unborn nephew or nephews everything he could. He would give them the rules, and he would protect them from them; he would spend the rest of his life exerting himself to clean up the sect until it was something worth inheriting, and then he’d give them that, too.

“Congratulations,” Lao Nie said blankly, and Wen Ruohan elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Lan Qiren chuckled humorlessly. “He’ll be only a few years younger than yours,” he said to Lao Nie. “And about of age with your second when he’s born, da-ge.”

“You don’t deserve this,” Wen Ruohan said, his mouth twisted with bitterness that for once had nothing to do with his own desires. “You deserve better.”

Lan Qiren appreciated the thought.

He appreciated them both being angry on his behalf, which they so clearly were. Lao Nie’s face had grown black with rage, his brows tight as if pulled taut with a string, and while Wen Ruohan’s face was calm and sedate as always, his qi seethed and hissed and coiled around them all as if he could keep away Lan Qiren’s duties by sheer force of will. He might even try, if it was something Lan Qiren would consider letting him do.

It wasn’t, though.

“The sect’s needs come first,” he said simply. “You both put your sects above yourselves; you know how it is. It’s the same for me.”

“You still deserve better,” Lao Nie said, and shook his head. “Hanhan’s right. You really do. I’m so sorry, Qiren. I should’ve been there to help more – shouldn’t have been so distracted –”

“Nothing could have been done to change it,” Lan Qiren said. He didn’t disagree, knowing as he did how careless Lao Nie had been over it all, but if he were to blame Lao Nie, he might as well blame Wen Ruohan, who he knew for a fact did know about it and didn’t bother to try to intervene – but he didn’t want to blame his sworn brother, who had no responsibility here, and he didn’t much want to blame Lao Nie, either, even if he’d said some very stupid things from a distance. It had only ever been his brother’s fault; there was nothing else for it. “It’s…”

He trailed off, not able to say it was fine, because it wasn’t. It just wasn’t true.

Do not tell lies.

“I’ll live,” he said instead, because that was. No matter what, he had to live. His sect depended on him, his not-yet-born nephew depended on him. “I’m going to become a teacher, instead. It’ll give me something to do.”

He would have more than enough to do as the sect leader, of course, acting or otherwise, and with him just barely into his early twenties he was very young to be a teacher. But he desperately wanted something that wasn’t just the sect’s, something all his own, and he had planned on being a teacher, too. Much later in life, of course, but – it was still something.

Something of his own.

Maybe he’d push the elders for permission to have children from other sects come for lessons, just to mimic the variety of the world that he was no longer permitted to go see. Sect leaders feather their own nests with the stories of others, he’d once told Cangse Sanren, that’s a way of living, too…

He had to think of it that way. If he didn’t, he’d think instead of what she said, a caged lark singing only for a select few, and that would be worse.

“Do you have any more questions?” he added, not wanting to think of anything at all any longer. “If not, I would very much like to get drunk on your wine, if you don’t mind.”

Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie exchanged glances again, some secret communication that Lan Qiren didn’t bother to try and fail to decipher – truly, if there was one good part to the entire disaster it was that they had overcome their distance in truth rather merely on the surface – but then Wen Ruohan nodded firmly and Lao Nie began to set out the drinking bowls.

“For once, I’m almost looking forward to hearing about your sect rules,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “As long as you just tell me about them, this time, and don’t knee me in the –”

Lan Qiren grabbed at the drinking bowl, glaring at him, and Lao Nie laughed. “Let’s see how much you can tolerate,” he said cheerfully. “The liquor here is pretty mild, so start with one bowl and tell me how you’re feeling after –”

Lan Qiren drank the bowl, grimacing a little at the taste, and remembered nothing more.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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greensaplinggrace · 3 years

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honestly THANK YOU for saying all that abt baghra bc i thought i was going crazy from not liking her??? bc i haven't read the books and only summaries of them on wiki and like. i dunno why ppl like her actually even in the show bc this guy, her son, is like "i wanna make the world better for us grisha" and she's just like "no." even tho he sees that she's MAKING HERSELF SICK from suppressing her powers! she's literally like in bed coughing in the flashback yet seem much healthier at the little palace. also like after everything, after her disapproval, after the fold, after centuries of waiting for the sun summoner.. he never abandons her. he makes sure she's cares for. he doesn't harm her. and i have to wonder if baghra has ever thanks him for that, for just not leaving her alone. like i dunno how im suppose ro believe aleks is a heartless villain when he still cares for his abusive mom like this. like has baghra even told her she loved him (honestly she reminds me of a classic emotionally unavailable asian parent but maybe that's just me). also im wondering if baghra ever told aleks that he had an aunt.. bc like.. now that u bring up her isolating him it's like hmmmm...

not at me being like alina... why do u trust the bitter old woman who literally beats u with a stick and verbally abuses u every chance she gets.. just bc she showed a bad painting... like.. pls use two braincells to see that who u figured out as his mother... is also using his protection..

like baghra could've upped and left with alina. but no. she stayed bc she knew she was safe under aleks's protection.

alsoim just impressed that after his first friend tried to drown him and harvest his bones... he didn't go into hiding???? he still wanted to make a safe heaven for grisha!!! HE STILL WANTED TO PROTECT GRISHA EVEN AFTER HIS GRISHA FRIEND TRIED TO KILL HIM FOR HIS FUCKEN BONES. like... this is the guy im suppose to believe is the villain???

honestly i feel like part of the reason why LB's plotlines seem so bad and disconnected (and sometimes outright racist but that's another rant) and why darkles is disproportionately more violent and villainous in the later books is bc she didn't expect the darkling to be so popular and wanted to stick with her guns of making him the villain. but also wanted the money from aleks's popularity. but like you can't have ur cake and eat it too.

Well thank you for sending this ask! It's very sweet and very passionate. I'm glad you liked my post! I didn't put as much thought into it as some of my others lol. I kind of just talked. But it was nice to be able to finally talk about some of the problems I have with both her character and the fandom/author's perception of her.

HERE is the post this is referring to, in case anyone's wondering.

👀👀 You've hit the nail on the head for so many things, here!

Baghra is extremely emotionally unavailable, basically to the point of neglect. She's also verbally and physically abusive, traits which I doubt were only reserved for her students and not her son. Baghra claims she would do anything to protect him, but I've known a lot of parents who have that mindset and yet still harm their children because they think it's "good for them".

Aleksander stays at Baghra's side for years, and even when they're opposing each other she's never too far away from him. Idk if you've read the books but he does eventually hurt her. And as much as I don't like Baghra, I think his actions were horrid. But I'm also honestly kind of surprised it took him so long lmao.

Yeah I mean, in terms of isolation, let's not forget that she never wanted to introduce him to his father, either. Baghra's sense of eternity clouds a lot of her judgments on relationships, which means she views most people as dust and therefore teaches her son to as well. The problem with that is that he's a growing child, and he needs those social and emotional attachments for healthy development.

I would bet quite a bit of money that Baghra has either never told him she loves him or she has told him so few times it's practically forgettable.

And everything becomes more complicated because so many of Baghra's actions are understandable because of her life and her history, but the impacts they have on the people around her, especially Aleksander, are permanently damaging. And the fact that that's never gone over in critical depth in the books or how it's glossed over in fandom is just very disconcerting. Like, acknowledging Baghra's failings doesn't mean we're excusing Aleksander's actions, it just means we're holding Baghra liable for her own. Which the fandom should be doing, considering she's the epitome of an abusive parental figure.

And Alina trusting Baghra over Aleksander is even more confusing! Especially in the show!! This is the woman who beat her and abused her and tortured her friends when they tiny little children (and who probably still does so now that they're adults). This is the woman who mocks you and harasses you and insults you on a regular basis. Why does Baghra revealing she's Aleksander's mother make Alina change her mind?! Like fuck, I'd just feel bad for Aleksander. No wonder he kept it a secret, I would too! And that painting is enough evidence?! Really?! A random painting shown to you by this abusive mentor that's been making your life hell. That's what you're going to betray your new lover over?

The friends trying to harvest his bones thing is a good point, too. I think Aleksander, especially show Aleksander, is incredibly idealistic. I think he cares too much for others - those he's deemed worth his care (a sentiment given to him by Baghra). Despite everything she's tried to teach him about hiding and abandoning others and never caring and never doing anything to help or reach out or connect with people, Aleksander still continues to do so. It's likely because he never got it from Baghra growing up, and so is desperate for those emotional needs to be fulfilled elsewhere.

His turning point, when Baghra tells him it was understandable that those kids tried to kill him because the world is such a hard place for them - that's crucial. And the reason it's possible as a motivating factor is because of that idealism and that desire to help and that desire to be everything his mother isn't. Baghra tells him this trauma he just experienced was because of the oppression of his people, and instead of following her lead and accepting that, going into hiding and abandoning everybody to their misery, he goes I can do something about that. I can make it so this never happens again. Which is usually how trauma like that combines with one's core personality traits at a young age, especially when there's none of the essential support systems in place to aid in recovery (ie, the role Baghra should have been filling but wasn't, because she decided to exacerbate the problem instead).

And yeah, one of my biggest problems with the ham-fisted "beating you over the head with a sledgehammer of evil deeds" look-how-bad-this-character-is! portrayal of the Darkling in the later books comes from the impression I get that Bardugo doesn't trust her readers. She's so desperate to have us hate this character and think him an irredeemable villain, not trusting any of her readers to engage critically with a morally gray character, that it feels quite a bit like condescending fucking bullshit. Which ew, I know how to engage with literature, thanks.

She really does seem to look down on a large part of her fandom, and imo, the infantilization of the female characters in her books seems to carry over to her impression of most of her female readers as well. Which is why the Darkling's character arc gets fucking destroyed. But he's still a good cash grab, of course, so she'll shake his dead corpse in front of the fandom for money every time she wants something from it.

Also! Another reason I think her plotlines feel disconnected (I'm sorry Bardugo I respect you as a person, but shit-) is because the writing in SaB is just bad. I mean, nevermind the absolutely nauseating implications of the way she portrays the Grisha as a persecuted group who's situation is never actually fully addressed as it should be, considering Grisha rights is what her main villain is fighting for (imo for a series called the Grishaverse, LB seems to be pretty anti Grisha), but her characters and story alone are just wrong for each other. They don't fit together.

And the ending is one of the main pieces of evidence in that regard! You can’t say the ending where Alina isn’t Grisha anymore is her “going back to where she started” when she’s always been Grisha. She just didn’t know she was Grisha because she denied that part of herself that she was born with.

Alina is reluctant to move forward or change, she struggles with adapting, and she’s very set on the things she’s grown attached to throughout her life. She also has some latent prejudices against the Grisha, and so denies the possibility of being Grisha for those reasons as well.

Alina’s lack of powers in the beginning of her life because she willfully doesn’t learn about them to avoid change versus her lack of powers at the end of the book when she’s accepted them and then they’re stripped away from her by outer forces are two entirely separate circumstances. You can’t make a parallel about lost powers and lack of Grisha status bringing her back to the start when she was always Grisha and she always had powers and she simply refused to come to terms with it because of personal reasons.

The first situation is an internal conflict that indicates a story about growth and a journey of self acceptance. Denying herself the opportunity to learn about her heritage and to find acceptance with a group of people like her because she’s tied to the past and because of the way she was raised is the setup for a narrative that tackles unlearning prejudice and learning how to connect with a part of her identity that was denied her and learning how to grow independent and self assured. It’s the setup for a different story entirely. The second situation is an external conflict that centers around the ‘corrupting influence of power’... for some reason.

In a world where Grisha do not have social, political, or economic power and they are hunted, centering your heroine’s journey of self acceptance and growth around an external conflict about... the corrupting influence of power (in a group of people that don’t actually have any power?!) just doesn’t work. It is literally impossible to connect the two stories Bardugo is trying to push in Shadow and Bone without seriously damaging the main character’s developmental arc.

The only way a narrative like this would work, claiming that she has gone back to where she started, is either a) if the Grisha weren’t actually a persecuted group and instead were apart of the upper class, or b) if the one bad connection between the two instances is acknowledged - that Alina denied a part of herself crucial to self acceptance and growing up, and that losing her powers at the end has also denied her. It is a tragedy, not a happy ending.

Alina suffered because she didn’t use her powers. She grew sick. It was bad for her. This was not a resistance to 'the corruption of power and the burden of greed', it was her suffering because she couldn’t fully accept herself.

Framing the ending as a return to the beginning can’t be done if you don’t address how bad the beginning was for your main character. You brought her back to a bad point in her life. You regressed her. This should be a low point in her arc. It should be a problem that’s solved so she can finish developing organically or it should be something that is acknowledged as a tragedy in it’s own right, for the future the world (the writing) denied her.

This is a ramble and it makes no sense and I’m really sorry, but my point is that Bardugo put the wrong characters in the wrong story. The character arc required for organic development doesn’t match the story and intended message at all. The narrative doesn’t fit the cast. She's got two clashing stories attempting to work in tandem and she ends up with both conflicting messages that fans still can’t comprehend in her writing and an ending that doesn’t suit her main character to such an impossible degree that it’s almost laughable.

So yeah, there's a few reasons why I think the story and the plot feels so bad and disconnected. I hope you don't mind me making this answer so long! 😅 I was not expecting to write this much.

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lazysublimeengineer · 3 years

Text

August

Summary:

August slipped away into a moment in time.

'Cause it was never mine.

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets.

August sipped away like a bottle of wine.

'Cause you were never mine.

Characters: Manjiro "Mikey" Sano & Hanagaki "Takemitchy" Takemichi

Salt air, and the rust on your door

I never needed anything more

Whispers of "Are you sure?"

"Never have I ever before"

Mikey found himself standing in front of Takemichi’s house and knocking on his doorstep.

He knew that the blond will just laze around on a morning weekend inside his house since his girlfriend and her family were on a vacation trip to their relatives in Hokkaido this summer.

This means that he can take up the time of Takemichi for himself.

He knew that it was wrong but in the back of Mikey’s mind he tried to rationalize it that he wanted to hang out with Takemichi because he’s one of his closest friends and he enjoyed his company.

And nothing more.

But upon settling his dark gaze to the warm smile and bright blue eyes that were the epitome of the clear skies and sunshine, he knew that his heart was in trouble.

But at this moment he never needed anything more aside from the radiant hope standing in front of him in the form of Hanagaki Takemichi.

“Mikey-kun?” His voice had the usual lilt of innocent curiosity and light airiness that’s akin to the soft, harmonic sounds of the chimes against the salt air of autumn skies.

“Hello, Takemitchy. Better prepare your helmet cause we’re going to test out your knowledge and skills on driving the bike just like I taught you the last time!” Mikey smiled at him cheerfully and willfully ignored the surprised look on his face and sputtering some nonsense.

The more he looked at the blond’s rosy cheeks and innocent gaze on his eyes, the more he could be lost into them.

And again, it’s not good for his fragile heart.

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

He heaved a deep breath as he watched the stream of light from the setting sun grazed softly along with the soft and peaceful features of a sleeping Takemichi beside him on the grass.

Mikey could watch on his face forever and tucked it away on the deep recesses of his mind, making it a faint memory inside his head that he would replay over and over again when he’s gone.

He knew that Takemichi didn’t belong here and he needed to go back soon into the future where he belongs.

And embraced the optimistic future that waits for him in the loving arms of his girlfriend, Hinata.

That thought sent a pang into his heart. But Mikey decided to ignore it as always.

He knew that Takemichi isn’t his, to begin with, but in the limited time they have together, he could be selfish and shut down any reason his brain was screaming at him. He scooted closer and leaned down on his lips, capturing it in a fluttering kiss.

Takemichi stayed asleep.

He didn’t know whether to be thankful or feel wretched about it afterward.

Your back beneath the sun

Wishin' I could write my name on it

Will you call when you're back at school?

I remember thinkin' I had you

That day was memorable to him.

Mikey’s gaze was on Takemichi’s back under the glistening rays of the sun on that fighting ring when he first met him. He was dressed in a uniform similar to the middle schoolers. But his back was bigger than anyone else present there. Takemichi was an old soul trapped in a teenager’s body because of the burdens he’s carrying that day.

And now he finally understood why.

Takemichi would look at him with that electrifying blue eyes of his, an all-knowing gaze that made Mikey want to imprint on his memory forever.

That desperate yet glimmering smile of hope was thrown over his direction. Takemichi had seen all the terrible deeds he had done not only to himself but to the others as well. Yet Takemichi continued to believe in him.

Continued to save him from the bleak future that waits for him.

And all Mikey wanted to do was to scream out his name and plead for him to stay right beside him.

Because he doesn’t know if he can handle things alone when Takemichi was not on his side anymore.

He’s the sunshine to the lagoon of the darkness of his life.

But Mikey knew that’s not right. He can’t monopolize and depend on Takemichi like this.

He needed to do his part and save everyone too. Even if he has to erase himself from the lives of the people that matter to him.

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

Mikey had watched Takemichi’s sleeping figure beside him in silence. The blond was pretty damn exhausted after his bloody fight with Taiju at the church and his emotional confession to Hina afterward. He tried not to dwell on the last part as it brought a certain pang to his chest at seeing them get back together again.

But overall, the young blond had passed out on him again as they traversed through the city with his CB250T motorcycle. He studied his bruised face and mottled arms with the usual blank expression on his face. Despite the numerous cuts and wounds on his face, it didn’t take away the breathtaking innocence of his face. It was more magnified when he was in a deep slumber and unconscious state since he was free away from the burdens and hardships that he carried throughout his life. His hand had unconsciously drifted towards his flaxen locks, caressing idly the soft strands that fell through the side of his face.

The urge to kiss him on his lips was strong and achingly bittersweet.

Mikey had leaned closer until his face is a few inches away from the other, almost feeling his calm breathing and the steady beat of his heart.

How he wished that they could stay like this forever.

But that is wishful thinking that got lost in the depths of the ocean a long time ago.

It will remain unfulfilled till the very end.

And all he could do is to kiss his forehead and left him in stone silence despite the growing numbness inside his heart.

Back when we were still changin' for the better

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

To live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call

And say, "Meet me behind the mall"

So much for summer love and saying "us"

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

You weren't mine to lose, no

It’s no question how Takemichi would drop almost everything when Mikey called for his presence and asked him to stay by his side when they strolled aimlessly outside the city or just lounging lazily around the grassy area of the park near the lake.

However, Mikey had begun realizing within himself that he’d do the same for the blond when he was in need even if Takemichi wasn’t pushy as him and still provide him of a leeway to decline as not to impose himself too much on him or on to the others.

The blond would show up in the most unexpected of ways.

Bringing him some home-cooked meals on the weekends and just hang out with him if he doesn’t have any dates with Hina or a busy schedule or just asking him to hang out around the city to stroll in the arcade center or the mall randomly.

And of course, he can’t decline. He can’t outright reject Takemichi. Even if he has plans or somewhere to go on that day, the priority would lose its essence and be pushed back at the far recesses of his mind when Takemichi calls and requested his presence by his side.

It didn’t occur to him that it wasn’t cemented.

That it was just a temporary form of happiness.

Because Takemichi can still cancel his plans unexpectedly when something happens or when someone rather calls for his attention and time back.

And that’s with Hina. Or with the other people closest to him.

A bittersweet smile curved on his lips as he stared despondently at the calm sea on the pier in front of him.

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

'Cause you were never mine, never mine

But do you remember?

Remember when I pulled up and said, "Get in the car"

And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call?

Back when I was livin' for the hope of it all, for the hope of it all

"Meet me behind the mall"

His short, raven locks danced against the wind as he stared numbly at the ruins of the dilapidated edifice in front of him.

Mikey was getting used to the sweltering heat and tropical climate here in the Philippines that the blazing heat of the sun and the humidity of the weather didn’t faze him a bit. It’s been a while since he last felt the cold breeze of the autumn wind or the faint, droplets of snow back in Japan.

Also…

It’s been a while…

Since he last saw…

His sunshine… and his last ray of hope.

Mikey still remembered back then how Takemichi’s smile and comforting words would calm him down and reassure him of everything.

But then Takemichi left and everything seemed dull and monotonous.

He should’ve killed Chifuyu instantly when he saw him back then and not let his words messed up his mind further by listening to his hopeful words and staring at his promising smile that was etched on his face before he shot him to death.

Because hope was a fine conception of a man that brought out the best in every individual.

Ironically, it also brought out the wretchedness and misery in every person when it was dashed out in despair.

Because Takemichi was his own hope and his own lingering despair at the same time.

Takemichi had the power to build him up only to destroy him once again with that fleeting yet hopeful smile on his face.

“Mikey-kun!”

“Some things never changed Takemitchy.”

Remember when I pulled up and said, "Get in the car"

And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call?

Back when I was livin' for the hope of it all (For the hope of it all)

For the hope of it all

(For the hope of it all)

(A/N: I don’t own any of the characters from the franchise nor the song August from Taylor Swift’s Folklore album. If there is one thing that the song and Taylor got it right, it’s the lyrics of, “August slipped away into a moment in time.” Because we’re only a few moments away until we hit September, I’d like to get this done and published this fic before August ends within a few days. This was greatly inspired by the song August and Takemikey just screams of angst, unrequited love, and longingness. Reviews are fascinating. So, let me hear them from you.)

#tokyorevengers #fanfiction #minor spoilers #angst #unrequited love #character study #relationship study #takemichi hanagaki #takemitchy #manjiro sano #mikey #takemikey

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catflorist · 3 years

Text

The Time Being (ao3 / ffn) catflorist Summary: Time-slipping is a side effect of wielding the Rinnegan. When Sasuke slips through time, he always goes to Sakura, whether he wants to or not. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

pt 7: seasons

SUMMER

Flowers and garlands decorated the village square, packed with bodies wearing their finest clothes. The guests milled about endless rows of chairs, gathered under the shadow of trees, and stood on benches for the best view. Heads were turning to the podium, and chatter was beginning to die—Sakura made it just in time. Her geta tapped out her quick steps as she weaved her way to the front row.

"You're late," Sasuke muttered, removing his haori from the seat next to him. How he succeeded in saving a place, she didn't know. The square appeared to contain every chair in the village, and still the crowd spilled into the streets.

Sakura smoothed the skirt of her pink dress. "It was your fault," she said, settling in her chair.

Halfway through shrugging the haori over his shoulders, Sasuke halted, peering at her face with new scrutiny. Sakura peered back, comparing this Sasuke, in his formal wear, breeze rustling the hair he asked her to trim a few days ago, with the Sasuke she just met—bleeding and weary-eyed, wearing a purple obi and a permanent scowl.

"How is your head?" she asked.

A smile grew on Sasuke's lips.

Sakura wanted to enjoy Sasuke's smile for longer, but she felt eyes boring into the back of her neck. Across the crowd, Tsumiki Kido turned his head, too late to disguise his staring.

Sasuke frowned, following her gaze. "Who is that man?"

"Someone who isn't happy you're back in the village," Sakura said. A chill traveled down her spine, though it did not matter now if Tsumiki or other members of the council saw them together. As a war hero, owner of two legendary doujutsu, and friend to herself, Naruto, and the Rokudaime Hokage, Sasuke was untouchable.

"Are you happy?" Sasuke asked, eyes stern.

"Of course I am," Sakura said.

"Then I have no other concerns," he dismissed. For the second time that day, pink tinged Sakura's cheeks, and she found herself at a loss for words.

A bright, cloudless blue sky shimmered above, promising to give way to a clear and starry night. When the wedding ceremony was over, they offered Hinata and Naruto their congratulations together.

FALL

In the warm climate of Fire country, the changing of seasons was gentle, but distinct. A chill grew in the air each day until it was difficult to remember anything different.

The moon hung in the sky when Sakura left the hospital one night. She worked late, reinvigorating her proposal to create a pediatric center at the hospital. Besides on-call staff, the only person working later than her was Karin. After sharing one of Orochimaru's radical techniques to preserve chakra network samples, the scientists of the research lab had claimed her of one of their own.

Walking through the quiet and peaceful streets on the way home, Sakura was confident she would not face rejection this time. The village was changing.

Sakura approached her building. A carving of a blooming tree decorated the door. Jugo's artisanry had quickly gained Konoha's attention. His work was everywhere around the village––hand-painted signs, wooden figurines and statues, delicate carvings around door frames. After Suigetsu asked Jugo to create wooden shuriken for his three Academy students, it seemed every young student passing by held one in hand. Reaching for her keys, Sakura pictured wooden carvings on the walls of her pediatric center.

She was not alone.

"Sasuke-kun," she murmured. He was bonier than she remembered him being. His jaw was only beginning to sharpen. "I see. You're leaving now, aren't you?"

She already knew the answer. It was obvious in the way his hands trembled, in the way shadows were collecting in his eyes. He was clutching the left strap of his backpack. Against the warm hues of her street, he was a patch of deep blue and darkness, a shard fallen from the night sky. This was Sasuke on the night he left the village.

A street lamp buzzed and flickered on. When the light caught his face, his cheeks glistened. He took a small step towards her and exhaled a ragged breath.

This was too much for Sakura. She knew what it was like to be left behind. To face his back and beg him to stay, trying to glean from the still line of his shoulders if her words were working. She did not know, all the while, this was what leaving was like for him.

"Wait," she pleaded, but even before the word formed on her tongue, he was gone.

Sakura's feet led her to Sasuke's apartment. He opened the door after the first knock.

"Sakura," he said, opening the door wider.

One step forward was all Sakura needed to take. Sasuke's arms surrounded her without hesitation, as if waiting all this time for the sign to hold her close.

"I just saw you," she murmured, lips brushing his throat. "You were leaving…"

"I'm not leaving anymore," he promised.

"I missed you," she said, though they had eaten together yesterday, and he had walked her home the day before that. There was hardly a day since he returned to the village that they had not seen each other.

Sasuke's chest rose and fell with a soft sigh. "We are tied together." He said it in the same way someone might say the sun is up or north is this way.

Was it always like this? Sakura wondered.

Sasuke reached for her hand. "I want to always be near you," he confessed.

Sakura brushed the hair out of his eyes, traced his cheek, his brow bone. He blinked, and his eyelashes kissed her fingers. The rings of his left eye were like the ripples a stone made as it fell through the surface of water.

"I never stopped loving you," she said. "I love you as much as I did then."

Sasuke's forehead fell against hers, waiting for her kiss. Sakura did not leave him waiting.

WINTER

Sasuke appeared in Sakura's apartment in the middle of the night, wearing the Akatsuki robes, carrying the weight of a decision. He fell asleep on her couch. It was a long time before he slipped away.

When she was alone, Sakura removed her robe, which she had worn to conceal the Uchiha crest on the back of her borrowed shirt. She returned to her room and settled back next to Sasuke, asleep and unworried, in her bed.

SPRING

Before Sasuke climbed in through the window of her third-story office, Sakura was basking in the glow of good news.

She read the message on her desk for the third time. Out of the blue, the council greenlighted her pediatric center, offering her a budget larger than she had dreamed. It was enough to build a facility solely dedicated to children's health. No child in the village would ever be left behind again, the way Naruto and Sasuke were.

A soft footfall interrupted Sakura's thoughts of all the work ahead. Sasuke dropped inside the room, the scent of pollen and oncoming rain drifting in behind him.

Sakura leapt up from her desk and locked the door. "What's wrong?"

"I just received this from the council," he said, passing her a scroll before blinking away his Sharingan.

With trembling fingers, Sakura read over Sasuke's new mission assignment.

The scroll described a mission of indefinite length. A haphazard journey across the shinobi world, doing nothing in particular. Escort this noble. Deliver this message. Check on the status of this favor. Refusing the mission, or failing the mission's terms, meant abstaining Konoha citizenship and willfully accepting exile. The text outlined required checkpoints every five days, the first in Suna.

Sakura threw the scroll to the ground, cracking the wooden spindle within. Suna was a two-week journey from Konoha for the fastest of travelers. There was nothing subtle about the council's true intentions.

"Tsumiki Kido delivered the message," Sasuke said, his face even. "He said it would prove my loyalty to Konoha."

"They can't do this," Sakura spat. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to!"

Sasuke gripped her wrist. "He said leaving would be in my best interest, if I cared about the wellbeing of the village."

A buzz filled Sakura's ears. The threat was a familiar one. It reused works she had spoken herself, in a council meeting before the war, as she pulled dangerous strings to keep Sasuke safe.

They will be upset, Shizune had warned.

"We don't have to accept this. We can change things," Sakura said. "Right now. We've already done impossible things..."

A just, peaceful, village was not too much to ask for. Sakura's surroundings faded away, a plan organizing in her mind. She and Sasuke comprised two-thirds of the new generation of Sannin. With Naruto's influence, they could sway their old classmates, and other skilled shinobi, to their cause. They could reach out to Gaara, who had already implemented structural change in the Sand. Tsunade and Kakashi could leverage their political power and Hinata could reach the Hyuuga clan. Sakura herself carried a well-loved reputation among civilians and in the broader world. If anything, they could use brute force to overthrow Konoha's government. They were not powerless, especially not with the help of their teammates, friends, and allies. They could shape their own world and the future they wanted.

Sasuke shook his head. "They wanted my clan dead, so they killed them. Now they want me to go. I can't risk anyone else being hurt." His hand on her wrist tightened, like holding a lifeline. "I can't lose you."

Sakura's mind stopped spinning. "All right," she whispered. "Then I'll come with you."

"You have matters here." Sasuke placed a second scroll back on her desk. While she was plotting, he was reading the news she received this morning.

The timing suddenly made sense––why Sakura's proposal was approved now, of all times, after months of silence. Of course she could not go with him, if building the facility meant protecting and caring for the lives of Konoha's children.

"We haven't had much time," Sakura started, but her throat closed. He was supposed to stay. Why did he have to go again?

"Finish your work," he said. "Then I'll find you."

"Where will I be?" Sakura asked, because a glint was growing in Sasuke's eyes. This happened sometimes, whenever he knew something she didn't. It happened last week when Sakura had brought home an abandoned black kitten, naming her Hime after the dignified way she perched upon Sasuke's shoulder. It happened when she had pulled away from their first kiss.

Sasuke passed something into her hand. A pebble the shape of old dreams, of crashing waves and salt.

He asked, "Have you ever thought about going to the ocean?"

SUMMER AGAIN

Sasuke was gone, yet he was here again, in the dark of Sakura's bedroom.

"I'll be with you soon," he promised, after kissing her.

Before he left, Sasuke had recounted every detail he could remember about what Sakura should expect at the ocean––every rejected cup of tea, every question. But he hadn't told her about this.

Sakura understood why. When living out of order, some knowledge could not be disclosed. It was too precious, or too painful. Some things were best left for discovery. .

Up next: Everything comes together.

Notes: where the daylight begins by ohwhatsherface inspired the sentence about lifelines.

thank you for reading :)

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku fanfic #ss fic #ss #my ss #my fic #the time being

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crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years

Text

A Speedster, A Nuclear Bomb, and a Worn Down Walkman (Ch.1)

pairing: peter maximoff/fem!Wilson!reader

summary: Y/n Wilson is the only child of the renowned X-Man Deadpool. When Y/n is asked to enroll in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters by Charles Xavier himself, she has no choice but to accept; much to the dismay of her father. Y/n isn’t used to the knew surroundings or the constant stress of her mutation. All she wanted to do was disappear. Little did Y/n know, she caught the eyes of a certain speedster who wasn’t planning on letting her fade away anytime soon.

req: Hey, I was wondering if you could write something about dating peter maximoff and being deadpools kid - @8-eight-8

warnings: none, rlly

notes: FUCK YEAH!!! IM BACK TO WRITING THIS SERIES BABEY. sorry this took so long, i swear it wont take this long next time. also 2.5k words to make up for it hell yeah!

PREVIOUS: prologue

taglist: @creator-appreciator, @wallows-spring

Saying that life at the academy was hectic would be a severe understatement; your first few days were filled to the brim with endless placement assessments and class work and first impressions. It was as if you were meeting every person at once, each new smiling face and unique name immediately leaving your brain after mere seconds of talking. It was overwhelming and chaotic and at one point you felt as if you had begun to spiral in the first week-- worst of all, you were beginning to miss your father. However, there was one person who stuck in your mind like a fly to a gluetrap-- Peter Maximoff.

Peter was made of pure adrenaline, constantly on the move at high speeds as if he would cease to exist if he were to stand still. Nevertheless, he somehow managed to land himself right next to you anywhere you went. You’re not exactly complaining, though, you quite like having Peter around. He’s like your anchor, a person you can lean on when everyone and everything becomes too much-- not to mention Peter’s physical appearance. His features were refined and smooth, as if he was carved from marble by Michelangelo himself. He always had a grin on his face, his eyes lighting up like Fourth of July fireworks that you just can’t look away from.

Similarly, Peter was still having trouble processing… you. You were like an ethereal being, an inhuman gracefulness and beauty following you everywhere you went. You brightened up rooms, your laugh could make the saddest person feel uplifted, your eyes were abyss-like pools that made Peter feel fuzzy whenever they locked with him. Peter couldn’t stay away from you if he tried-- you were magnetic, an invisible force pulling him closer and closer until he got close enough to smell the shampoo you use. Everything about you was amazing and perfect and pristine to him-- he would be lying if he claimed he didn’t have a crush on you. Unfortunately for Peter, you were completely and totally out of his league. In fact, you were so out of his league that the mere thought of you liking him seemed about as realistic as a fever dream. For now, Peter was content with being your friend.

Meanwhile, Charles was attempting to settle on one of the hardest dilemmas of his lifetime. Originally, Charles had invited you to the academy to attempt to control your mutation. Hank had run various tests to get an idea of exactly how strong you’d become, and the results were shocking. Long story short, both Charles and Hank had come to the conclusion that you were a ticking time bomb. With every day that passes your manipulation of energy expands, reigning in more and more force by the second. The process is gradual and slow, but with time, you would lose your ability to contain the energy. Keeping you in the academy would be your only chance at stopping your inevitable destination, but that would also put the rest of the students at risk. Then again, you were useful; having you on the X-Men team would help save so many people. For the first time in what felt like years, Charles didn’t know what to do.

“Hank,” The British man called. “If you were the equivalent to a timed explosive, would you… would you want to know?”

“I’m sorry?” Hank’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I just… I’m not sure if I should tell Y/n about her… situation.” Hank nods in understanding before inhaling deeply.

“Charles, she’s only been here a few days. She’s barely settled in-- give her time to… warm up to the place.” Hank replies. That doesn’t help Charles’s situation.

“And after that? After she’s settled in?” Hank sighs. He’s not sure what to do either-- all Hank really knows is that he wants whatever's best for you. Hank had come to enjoy your presence through the last few days. You were kind and paid attention to Hank and his interests. It was refreshing-- Hank wasn’t used to having some be genuinely impressed by his work.

“You have to tell her eventually, Charles. You’re only hurting her by hiding it.” Charles groans and leans back in his chair. He was truly dreading this conversation-- he had no doubt in his mind that you’d want what’s best for the other students; Wade mentioned that you had a habit of putting others' needs and feelings before your own.

“Thank you, Hank. That’ll be all.” He waves the other man out of the room, allowing himself to be left to his own thoughts. Charles’s head ached as he glanced at the report Hank had written on you, one specific observation jumping out at the distressed man: “Y/n Wilson is as much an evolutionary breakthrough as she is a safety hazard-- she must learn to contain her power; if she’s successful, she’ll be one of the most powerful mutants ever recorded. If she fails-- if we fail, the consequences will be as catastrophic and destructive as a nuclear explosive. Proceed with caution.”

______________

The sound of confused giggles and hurried footsteps echo through the hallway as Peter gently tugs you along, turning to glance at you every now and then. Peter knew you were having trouble getting comfortable with the other students, and he was determined to change that. He had a small group of friends that were eager to meet you-- Peter managed to bring you up in every conversation he’s had with anyone in the past week.

“Peter, where are we going?” You question as Peter turns around a corner. He just shoots a smile back at you before quickly pulling you into his bedroom-- a bunch of students sitting in various places on the floor. You can recognize a few faces from the hallways, but other than that they’re mostly strangers. Except for one-- I can recognize Kurt from the library.

“Alright, so, uh, I thought that maybe you’d want to meet some of my friends. Just to-- uhm-- just to get more used to some of the people here.” Peter’s stomach flutters as you grin at him.

“You did this for me?” Peter nodded before your attention was quickly drawn away from him and to the people around the room. Peter is quick to introduce you to all his friends.

“Uh, Kurt, Jubilee, Scott, Jean, Ororo, this is Y/n,” A blue teenager materializes in front of me almost instantly.

“We met already but it is nice to meet you again,” He grins a toothy grin, his hand extending to shake mine. I’m soon met by a boy wearing odd goggles, presumably Scott, then Jubilee, then Ororo, then finally, Jean. They were all friendly and unique and oddly comforting in a way, regardless of the fact that they were all a full decade younger than you and Peter.

“What’s the best way to get to know someone?” Scott asks, glancing at Jubilee. She smirks back at him.

“In all 16 years of living, I’ve come to learn that the single best way to get to know someone's personality is via the ancient practice of Truth or Dare.” She grins wildly.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know if--” You can hear Peter inhale sharply as Scott pulls him onto the floor, the other students following suit and soon forming a circle on the floor. Jubilee tugs you down by your sleeve.

“Alright, who’s first?” Jean quips. Everyone exchanges a look before settling on Peter.

“Oh, uhm… Kurt, truth or dare?” Everyone seems to be disappointed by Peter’s selection, but they continue nevertheless.

“Truth.” Peter bites his lip while he attempts to think of a question to ask, and you can’t help but stare. The silver speedster is undeniably cute-- you’ll willfully admit that any day. “Out of everyone here, who do you think is the smartest?”

“Well, both you and Y/n are much older than ze rest of us, so it’s one von of you two-- sorry Jean, zey just have more experience. Uh, I guess Y/n since I vonce saw Peter try to catch a bird with his bare hands.” You laugh out loud at this new discovery and Peter’s face burns a light red.

“Alright, Kurt, it’s your turn.” Jean says. The blue boy scans the crowd before choosing the next victim.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” All eyes turned to you expectantly. You were never a coward, so you took the most logical route.

“Dare.” The entire group jitters with excitement, anticipation for what odd things Kurt would make you do circulating in the air.

“I dare you… to hold hands with Peter for ze rest of ze game.” Scott and Jean both huff in disappointment as Jubilee and Ororo gaze at Kurt with such fury it was as if they were trying to kill him. This dare was odd, sure, but you weren’t one to back down.

“Easy peasy,” You quip as you hold out your hand for Peter to take. He laces your fingers with yours and immediately your entire arm feels as if it had just been jostled awake. The feeling of Peter’s hand in yours is foreign, but incredibly welcome. His hands are warm.

“My turn, right?” You ask, trying to forget the fact that Peter’s hand is entangled with yours. “Jubilee, truth or dare?”

“Truth, and make it good.” She grins.

“Whose mutation do you think is the least useful out of everyone in this circle?” Jubilee glances around the circle.

“Depends. I don’t know what yours is,” she trails off for a moment. “And I don’t wanna be mean…”

“My mutation is energy manipulation-- I can control the energy that’s constantly being produced.” Peter’s grip on your hand tightens a bit as Jube’s eyes widen.

“Okay, that’s fucking awesome so definitely not yours,” she exclaims. “Kurt and Peter are useful in combat, Jean is useful in getting information, Ororo and Scott are both super powerful-- I think my mutation is the least useful.”

“Don’t say that, Jubilee,” Scott says from across the circle. “You’re useful sometimes.” Jean cringes at his words and both Jubilee and Kurt laugh aloud. Scott seems unaware of his mistake.

“Thanks, Scott,” The young girl said before returning to the game. “Alright, my turn again? Ororo, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Ororo smirks. She’s quite pretty, her hair looked soft and shimmery-- not dissimilar to Peter’s.

“I dare you to knock the power out of the entire mansion for a full five minutes.” Ororo complies, a large clap of thunder echoing through the mansion as the room goes dark. Ororo had created a large thunderstorm to cover for the power outage, lightning and rain wailing down on the windows. Peter grips your hand tightly, his muscles tensing as he shuts his eyes for a moment. The other students are consumed by their chatter and laughter in the darkness.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask softly. Peter is jumpy and nervous, but he doesn’t want to seem cowardly in front of you.

“Y-yeah, I’m just not the b-biggest fan of thunderstorms,” You can tell he’s trying to act tough. Gently, you run your thumb over his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down.

“Don’t worry, silver, the storm will pass. For now, I can distract you if you’d like me to,” You offer. Peter looks at you for a moment, and his heart skips a beat. You’re kind and sweet and selfless, you’re considerate and caring and wonderful and Peter is in awe of you.

“A distraction would be nice.” Peter said quietly, wincing at the weakness in his voice. He was almost 30 years old, one of the oldest among the group in the room and he was cowering because of a little thunder. He felt ashamed and small-- it really was no shocker that you were out of his league. However, when you flipped his hand over and began tracing shapes on his palm with your finger, all of his worries melted away for a moment.

After a while, Ororo switched the lights back on and dispersed the storm outside, the group of teens returning to the antics almost instantaneously. You pulled your hands away from Peter reluctantly.

“Well, uh, I better get going-- I have some work to do.” You say as you stand up. “It was lovely to meet all of you, this game was pretty fun. I’ll see you around.” You can hear Peter scramble behind you, quickly following you out of the room as if he were a lost puppy. You walked in silence for a while, Peter’s strides in sync with yours as you made your way to your bedroom. You admired the detailed architecture along the walls as you walked, various small symbols were scattered across the wallpaper. You didn’t realize you’d reached your bedroom until you were standing face-to-face with the door.

“Thank you.” Peter says, his voice low and raspy. He’s not looking at you, his eyes glued to the floor.

“For what?” The shameful feelings returned as Peter kept his eyes on the floor. He feels like a baby-- a whiny baby who gets afraid during thunderstorms and has trouble articulating his thoughts and feelings. It made him so frustrated when he couldn’t find the words to say what needed to be said-- his mind just moved too fast to grip onto any coherent thoughts. When he glanced into your eyes, he managed to get something out.

“It’s just that I know a lot of people who would make fun of me for being as old as I am and so easily scared.” You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. Peter didn’t want you to pity him, but at this point he just needed to express his gratitude. “Thank you for… not being one of those people.” You took his face gently in your hands and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Anytime, Maximoff. Anytime.” You smiled before opening your bedroom door and stepping inside. The first thing you notice is that the books on your desk have been knocked over. Then, you realize that there was someone standing behind you.

You yelp, whipping around and shooting out a blast of energy. You didn’t even expel that much force, but the figure is launched into the wall. It’s only then that you realize this figure was actually your father.

“Dad? What the fuck are you doing here?!” You shout as you rush to help him off the floor.

“What, I need a reason to come see my daughter?” He jokes as he pops his arm back into its socket. He looks worried, but he masks it with a smile. “It just happens that Charles wanted to see me the same day I came to visit you.”

“Charles wants to see you? Why?” You ask as Wade pulls you into a hug. A cough from the doorway startles you apart, and a very anxious looking Hank is standing in the doorway.

“Looks like we’re about to find out,”

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximof x reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen imagine #xmen series #wade wilson #wilson!reader #peter maximoff x wilson!reader #a speedster a nuclear bomb and a worn down walkman series

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talpup · 3 years

Text

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

This chapter is a short one so I decided to do a double update this week. Mostly doing it because I wanna share the drama that happens in chapter76 and can't wait two more weeks to do it. lol

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 75

Yami woke up the following day wondering how he had gotten up to his bedroom. He remembered waking up on the ground propped up against a tree, a crowd of Magic Knights still surrounding the training field. He had made his way to the nearest tap of ale and given the man tending the barrel a silver coin with the instruction to keep his mug topped off. The alcohol hit him quicker than usual given his empty stomach. It had probably hit him on the first pint he had upon arriving which was probably why had acted the way he had with Teris.

Teris... Yami groaned, sitting up in bed. He had really messed up there. He just hoped he hadn’t done anything else he’d regret. Getting on Teris’ bad side was bad enough.

He had been drunk before. And as long as he was left alone, he was a quiet, subdued drunk. But if instigated, his temper was near instantaneous.

Gendry entered with a cup of coffee and large glass of water. “Good. You’re finally up. The Captain and Bronn are due back soon and I didn’t want to have to explain why you’re still in bed.”

Yami took the water first, downing the liquid messily. “You the reason I made it here?”

Gendry gave a single nod, taking the glass and handing over the coffee. “You’re even heavier than you look.”

Yami rubbed his aching head knowing he’d be feeling worse if he hadn’t been brought in. “Thanks. I didn’t do anything stupid. Did I?”

“You mean more stupid than attempting to challenge Bronn one on one?”

“I could’ve taken him. Bastard deserves a good ass kicking.” Yami set down the coffee and got out of bed.

Gendry stepped back near the small writing desk. “You’re set to take his place. How would it look to everyone who was there watching? You and he tearing into each other.”

“I would think most would be cheering me on, while the rest would be rooting for him.” Yami said. “Neither one of us have many friends. And most of those friends are right old bastards themselves.”

Gendry raised a brow. “You call me a right old bastard?”

Yami smirked. “I said most.”

“And the Captain when he found out? Cause you know he would’ve.”

Yami waved, noting Gendry hadn’t even bothered taking off his boots. “Jax would’ve been fine. Eventually. He knows better than anyone how much Bronn deserves a beat down.”

Gendry shook his head. “Not by you. Not like that.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” Yami said, deciding to stay as he was until he got some food in him and had a bath. “The other Vice Captain's talked Bronn out of agreeing.”

Gendry watched Yami scrub his face and neck clean at the wash basin. “You sing when you’re drunk.”

“What’s that?” Yami turned, water dripping from his face.

“You sing. Not half badly either.” Gendry said.

Yami wore a crooked half smile. “What was I singing?”

Gendry shrugged. “Couldn’t understand.”

Yami chuckled, drying off his face and hands. “Thought you said it wasn’t half bad.”

“That’s not the reason I couldn’t understand. You were singing in a different language. I’m guessing it was your native tongue.” Gendry said, looking almost sad.

Yami looked away, trying to remember. He couldn’t.

“Don’t know.” Yami took his belt with its grimoire off the bedpost, and his katana off the chest of drawers; the only two things Gendry had removed. “Thanks for seeing me to bed. And for the water. Gonna get me another glass along with some food and find Teris. Got some apologizing to do.”

“You can do both at the same time. She’s in the kitchens cleaning up from breakfast.” Gendry told.

Yami’s eyebrows pulled together. “It’s not her week for that. Was Tobin sent out on another mission?”

“He’s still here.” Gendry answered. “But you think Tobin’s gonna remind her of his chores when she’s taken them over and shouted him out?”

Yami made a face. “She’s still mad, huh?”

“Don’t know what you did but good luck fixing it.”

“I’ll fix it.” Yami said, passing Gendry as he left his room.

75.1.2

Standing in the doorway of the kitchens watching Teris wash dishes, Yami teased. “I think you missed a spot.” When she didn’t respond he signed and made his way to her. Placing his hands on her hips, he nuzzled her neck. “Come on, Ikigai.”

“I already told about calling me things I don’t know the meaning of.” Teris snapped, trying and failing to focus on scrubbing the plate in her hands.

Yami smiled. She had spoken to him. The first hurdle was complete. “It’s nothing bad. I promise.”

“I don’t care. I still don’t know the meaning of it.” Teris grumbled.

Yami stood there a moment, watching her take up another dirty dish to scrub. Teris didn’t mind doing household chores, but she hated doing dishes. Given that she was willfully doing them when it wasn’t her turn, Yami had thought it would’ve been harder to get her to acknowledge him.

“I’m not going to apologize for enjoying my birthday for once.” Teris said, staring at the soapy water.

“Nor should you.” Yami said, feeling stupid for letting William bait him into jealousy.

“You’re the one who echoed Julius and made me promise to act proper and do what was expected of me.” Teris went on.

“I know.” Yami nodded.

“Then why--”

Yami pressed his forehead against the back of her head. “Cause I’m a stupid, ill-tempered ass.”

Teris turned to face him. “No you’re not. Not with me.”

Yami huffed ruefully and smirked down at her. As hard as he tried to be better when it came to her, they both knew that wasn’t always the case. “I’m sorry.”

As badly as Teris wanted to accept his apology and move passed it. She had to know. “I thought we trusted each other.”

Yami placed his hands on her bare shoulders. “I do trust you. I was stupid. Upset because I can’t take you out like that. I know you did nothing wrong. I’m glad you finally had an enjoyable birthday.”

“I would’ve enjoyed it more if you’d been there.” Teris said, smiling shyly up at him.

Yami grinned at her. “We’ll go together soon enough. Promise. Till then,” he leered over her, placing his hands on the counter-top on either side of her, “I still have a belated gift to give you.”

“Stop it.” Teris laughed, reaching back to grab a soapy rag.

As she turned to do so the light hit her bare shoulder and he caught a glimpse a yellowish, light purple bruise.

“Hold up.” Yami said, his tone making Teris stop and wonder what was wrong.

Now that he was looking, Yami noted bruises on her other shoulder too. His hands lifted hovering over Teris’ shoulders lining his fingers over each mark. He sucked in a breath. A fire raged in his chest, much different than the heated rush he’d felt moments ago at the thought of kissing her. Only seven circular discolorations could be made out; but there was no doubting that she had been grabbed roughly. The light, ugly color of the bruises told him that they had likely been made two or three days ago. He remembered what William said last night, that Nozel had pulled Teris into a room and locked her away with him.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Yami swore his voice dangerously quiet. He turned and made for the kitchens exterior exit.

“Yami! Wait!” Teris rushed after him reaching out and grabbing his arm.

Yami didn’t pull away from her but didn’t stop his steps either. Teris was forced to cloak herself in mana least she lose her hold on him.

“Yami. Please! Stop.”

Yami turned back to look at her, surprised to see her using her magic to keep him there. “Does his life mean that much to you?”

“Yours does. Your future as a Magic Knight means that much to me.” Teris’ hold relaxed a bit now that he stopped but she still didn’t let go of him.

Yami stared down at her, taking in her pleading look of concern.

Stepping to him Teris reminded. “A few days ago you asked me not to do anything that would jeopardize our being together here and now. I’m asking you to do the same. Please, don’t do anything that might see you taken away from me.”

Yami didn’t tell her that there was nothing in this world that could keep him from her. That he would fight. Kill. Lay waste and destroy this kingdom and all the others to stay by her side. His muscles and voice trembled with barely restrained fury. “Royal bastard hurt you.”

“Who do you think you’re with? You think I can’t take care of myself?”

Yami stepped to her. “I didn’t say that.”

Teris shook her head in annoyance. “I swear you and Julius! At least he had the excuse of me wearing a dress at the time.”

“What does stupid clothes have to do with this?” Yami asked.

“Nothing.” Teris sighed, thinking about how much weaker and needy she felt in a gown.

“So Julius knows Bird Braid did this? That he hurt you.” Yami questioned.

“He didn’t hurt me.” Teris stressed.

Yami stared back at her having none of it. “Then who gave those bruises?”

“It’s fine.” Teris assured. “Over with. Handled. There was a misunderstanding which Nozel had a bit of an overreaction about. He apologized. Profusely.”

Yami realized he wasn’t going to convince her that a simple apology, no matter how earnest, wasn’t good enough. Not when she’d been hurt. Not when the markings of Nozel’s hands were staring him in the face.

Yami took a breath forcing himself to relax. “What was the Little Bird so upset about anyway?”

“He thought Mereoleona had told me about the birthday surprise to Racine that he had planned. He went through a lot of effort to make it happen. His father and my brother apparently requiring much convincing to give up the stuffy dinner and ball that’s always put on.” Teris finally released her hold on his arm, confidant he wouldn’t take off in search of Nozel.

Yami looked at her. She might have been telling the truth as she knew but he was sure Nozel would never get upset enough to harm her over such a misunderstanding. There was another reason, a reason she didn’t know, that had caused the royal lose himself and react in such a way.

Yami took another deep breath, tamping down his anger. He had waited months to teach Nozel a lesson for kissing her. While he wouldn’t wait that long this time, he could force himself to hold off for the moment for Teris’ sake.

He took a step toward the sink, nudging her along in ahead of him. Hands resting to either side of her on the counter-top, Yami leered over her. “Want me to help with the rest of the dishes? All it’ll cost you is a kiss.”

75.2

“Again.” Fuegoleon demanded, out of breath and drenched with sweat.

“You’re tired and lagging. I’ll end up sending you to the healers.” Nozel told.

“And since when have you had a problem with that?” Fuegoleon asked, his stance ready for Nozel’s attack,

Mereoleona had gotten after him during the Crimson Lions squad practice this morning. His Captain pointing out his lacking in defensive ability as only an older sister could. It was why Fuegoleon had asked Nozel to help him during their scheduled training session.

Nozel had been all too happy to agree knowing he could attack and Fuegoleon wouldn’t directly attack back. But now the Silver Eagle was slowing his strikes. Using less powerful spells as if worried he would substantially hurt his friendly rival.

It only served to make Fuegoleon angry and more determined. “Again.”

Nozel sighed. “Fine. But don’t blame me when you’re laid up for the rest of the day--”

“Silva!”

Nozel and Fuegoleon turned.

Yami entered the training yard, his anger flaring upon seeing the royal. It didn’t help his temper that he had first gone to the Silver Eagles base only to be told Nozel was at Magic Knights Headquarters training. That had left Yami searching the many training yards at Headquarters to find the man.

Yami hadn’t lied to Teris about his plans when he had left the Black Bulls base. He had stopped at the city of Aster to the few things he said he was going out for.

Fuegoleon watched Yami pass him without a glace and stop in front of Nozel.

The Black Bull reached for the Silver Eagle only to have Nozel blocked his hand.

“You won’t be doing that ever again.” Nozel growled, thinking of the dislocations the last time Yami had grabbed a hold of him “You want to fight. Fight like a gentleman.”

Yami glared at Nozel not sure if he could control his temper well enough for an actual fight. “You talk of being a gentleman after you’ve laid hands on a lady like that. I told you what would happen if you were stupid enough to do something like that again.”

“You kissed her again!” Fuegoleon exclaimed, wondering when that happened.

Nozel spun to face the Vermillion. “No!”

“He hurt her.” Yami rumbled, never taking his eyes off Nozel.

The only reason Yami wasn’t tearing into the royal on sight was because Teris holding him back from immediately acting had given him time to think. Nozel wouldn’t intentionally hurt Teris any more than he would. That much Yami was certain. Teris had mentioned some sort of misunderstanding; only Yami doubted it was the misunderstanding she believed it to be. He would hear Nozel out. Then he would kick the mans ass.

Fuegoleon’s mana roared to life. Fiery eyes on Nozel, he demanded. “You what!”

Nozel turned icy blue eyes on the Crimson Lion. “It wasn’t like that. Teris is my Intended.” His heard Yami’s katana slide a couple inches out of its sheath. Keeping his eyes on Fuegoleon but other senses on Yami, he went on. “Do you really think I would intentionally harm her?” His almost commented how much Teris meant to him but stopped. “I gripped her a bit too tightly when I thought—you know—she knew.”

“And that makes it alright?” Fuegoleon questioned.

“No. It most certainly doesn’t make it alright.” Nozel stated. “You think I’m proud of myself? That I haven’t beaten and berated myself over it?”

“I’ll beat you if it’ll make you feel better.” Yami offered. “I’ll beat you either way.”

Nozel turned on him. “When were you going to tell me that my father tried to have you killed again?”

Yami glanced at Fuegoleon wondering when and how the Vermillion learned about all that. Turning back to Nozel, he shrugged. “Didn’t realize I needed to tell you every time your Daddy tried to take care your problems for you.”

Ignoring the dig, Nozel fiercely stated. “When it comes to this. I need to know.”

“Why? What difference does it make?” Yami asked. “You weren’t able to do anything the last time. How was I to know you weren’t aware this one was coming too?”

It struck Yami then what he should have put together sooner. That if Nozel had been aware of his father's plans the Silver Eagle would have sent him word of warning. As much as Nozel wanted him out of the way, preferably through his death, Yami knew Nozel was too honorable to stand by and let such an attempt be made if he had the time and chance to inform him.

“You just—you tell me. Is that understood.” Nozel told.

Yami smirked at him, wondering if the braid of silver hair hanging down the middle of Nozel’s face ever made the royal cross-eyed. “You think you can give me orders?”

“I out rank you.” Nozel reminded.

“Oh? So we’re going to make this official? I’d like to see Greywright’s face when that order comes across his desk.” Yami teased.

“Shut up.” Nozel snapped.

“Why’d you do it?” Yami asked.

Thinking Yami was referring to the latest attempt on his life, Nozel expelled, voice low and harsh. “I told you! I didn’t know!”

“Hurt Teris.” Yami clarified, finding Nozel’s heightened emotional state both grating and gratifying. “Why’d you hurt Teris? She said it was cause you thought this birthday surprise of yours was ruined, but I know you’d never lose control over something like that. So what was it that set you off?”

“He foolishly thought my sister had told her about all this.” Fuegoleon answered for the Silva.

“About his father hiring people to kill me?” Yami asked.

Fuegoleon nodded.

Yami looked at Nozel. “Just how many people know your father's tried to have me killed?”

“I overheard my father and sister talking about it.” Fuegoleon said. “I confronted Nozel the following morning. Far as I know that’s it.”

“How many on your side know?” Nozel questioned, knowing even if Yami wanted to keep it to himself, someone in his circle had to know.

Yami thought a moment before answering. “Three. Possibly four or five.”

“What!” Nozel exclaimed.

“What? Three on your side know.” Yami shot back. “I’m the victim here.”

“You are far from a victim.” Nozel sneered.

Yami shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like I told them. Julius and Tobin were at the bar the first time. Julius put it together easily enough. He’s the one that told me it was likely your father.”

“Julius knows!” Nozel felt wobbly, the world spinning too fast.

“Tobin might not pick up on most things all that well but he’s quick on the uptake when it comes to threats and other unsavory stuff. No one told him out right but I’m pretty sure he’s put it all together. Especially after this last time and all that went on between Bronn and I after.” Yami soured at the memory of the Vice Captain knocking him out and taking his money to Nathyn Silva in his stead.

Nozel’s eyes narrowed. “Why? What happened with this last time and after?”

“You don’t get to ask that. I’m not playing your sick game where I tell you all the details of where, who, and how your father tried to have me killed. And I’m certainly not telling you what went down after.” Yami said, thinking no one needed to know how stupid he had been in his plan.

As much as Yami hated it, he owed Bronn for knocking him out and delivering the money to Lord Silva. Actually, he didn’t owe Bronn since the Vice Captain had called them even for Yami having saved Bronn's life out on the battlefield.

“So Lord Julius. And I’m guessing your Captain and Vice Captain know as well.” Fuegoleon said, figuring Julius would have informed them for Yami’s safety after the first attempt.

Yami huffed. “Yeah. Julius told Jax and Jax told Bronn. Bunch of gossiping hens.” He muttered, complaining.

Ignoring Yami’s disrespect, Fuegoleon said. “So the three of them and possibly Tobin. You said there could be five on your side. Who’s the fifth possibility? Julius’ Vice Captain?”

Yami hadn’t even considered that Jon might know. Well, he thought, that made possibly six; nine counting the three Vermilion's.

Looking at Fuegoleon, Yami said. “My guess. Greywright.”

Nozel and Fuegoleon’s eyes widened.

“The Knights Commander knows?” Nozel expressed, looking like a startled hare.

“Shut up.” Yami snapped. “I said it was a guess. Mana, you got to calm down. I can see why you lost control of you senses and gripped Teris so hard when you thought she knew.”

“Which is something that none of us want.” Fuegoleon stated firmly, staring at Yami.

“Agreed.” Yami said, eyes trained on Nozel. “Look, I came here to kick your ass for bruising Teris up. But seeing how adamant she was I don’t do anything. The reason why you did it. And,” he looked the royal over, “the state you’re in. I’ll let it go this once. Just know that if there’s a next time, I won’t give a damn why you did it or what state your in. I’ll end you without question.”

Nozel glared. “There won’t be a next time but that has nothing to do with what you said or what you want.”

“Don’t care. Just so long as it doesn’t happen again.” Yami paused a moment, considered the matter over and said. “If you really want to know. I’ll send you message next time your father tries to have me killed.”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.” Fuegoleon said.

Yami looked at the Vermillion with interest. “How’s that?”

Fuegoleon glanced at Nozel before answering. “That’s what I heard Leona and my Father talking about. It sounds like my Father spoke to Lord Silva and told him something that would stay his hand.”

“Well that’s good news.” Yami grinned. “So Teris and I can do what we want as openly as we want.”

“No. No! That’s not what that means. You go doing that and--” Fuegoleon saw Yami’s amused expression and stopped. His eyes narrowed with angry disapproval. “You’re having fun at my expense.”

“It’s not like you can’t afford it.” Yami chuckled at his own joke.

“Get out of here.” Fuegoleon snipped.

“Gladly.” Yami grinned, amused at the royals temper.

Nozel watched Yami leave the training yard. “I’m going to executed that foreigner someday.”

Fuegoleon’s eyes slid to the Silver Eagle. “So long as it’s a proper execution carried out within the bounds of the law, I’ll take a front row seat.”

Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

Next chapter snippet:

Yami turned, swallowing a stream of curses at the sight of Teris, Nozel, Fuegoleon, William, and Randall. He quickly fished a coin from his money pouch and tossed it on the bar. Getting to his feet, he told the man he’d been talking to something and made his way to his fellows.

“You’re earlier than expected.” Yami said, stepping forward and backing them up through the narrow entryway. “Let’s go.”

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

Text

My Little Secret part 7

Summary: With Arthur’s secret uncovered, you’re opened up to a whole new world. Your mind says it’s dangerous to stay with him, but your heart says otherwise.

A vampire. A freaking vampire. The words echoed in your mind though heavily bogged down in the tendrils of your subconscious.

You kept replaying the conversation in your mind. The first thing you’d felt was wild disbelief. He had to be pulling your chain in an excuse for his absurd behavior. The blood that streamed down his mouth was telling you otherwise. The next thing you’d thought was the first question you’d asked.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

“No!” Arthur had exclaimed, appearing absolutely taken aback as if horrified you would even suggest that. “No, Y/N,” he’d glanced back at the victim, who still appeared high as he stared up at the sky with a look of wonder. “I know it all seems crazy. I can explain it if you’ll let me.”

Every instinct told you to run and don’t look back. Call the police perhaps, get yourself as far away from this crazy man as possible. Instead against your better judgment, you stayed rooted in the spot. Fear racked your entire body, but the curiosity outweighed it on the scale by just an ounce. As stupid as it was, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You’d watched as he wiped the blood streaks from him and the other man with a handkerchief before tucking it into his pocket. He then spoke to you again, asking you to stay put by the front of the restaurant while he went back in to pay for your meal. Despite everything that just happened in the past five minutes, he still kept to his word.

Now you were sitting behind the wheel of your car, keeping your eyes on the road while he sat next to you. He asked to ride with you and for some reason you accepted. Neither of you spoke. The conversation kept replaying in your mind, over and over. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.

He was the first to break the silence. “You didn’t run away.” He murmured.

You could have, and you should have. You took a deep breath and forced yourself not to look at him. “Think I could outrun a vampire?” you hissed with more acidity than you intended.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his lips twitch. He didn’t want to grace the answer, and you knew it anyway. “You have every right to hate me, to be afraid. I don’t blame ya.” He instead stated.

“But here I am, sitting next to you when I should have ran,” you mumbled. “You offered to explain, so I’m listening.”

He nodded, tilting his head low as if he were contemplating on his next words. He sighed – you wondered if that was even necessary – and looked at you.

“I am a vampire,” he started. “All them legends that everyone thought was all hogwash, they’re all true. I’m undead. I sleep durin’ the day and awake for the night. I burn in the sunlight, and I drink blood.”

“A monster.” You murmured.

“Yes,” he was quick to agree, his tone solemn. “A monster.”

You swallowed this information all at once, your head absolutely brimming with it. All those prior thoughts of this man had suddenly washed away. You were sitting in the belly of the beast with someone who could kill you at an instant. These could very well be your last moments on Earth. Were you about to fall victim to a being that seemingly only existed in horror movies?

A wave of dizziness encompassed you and your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You swallowed hard and pulled over, willing yourself not to vomit all over your dashboard. You gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turned white.

Y/N?”

You closed your eyes, willfully pushing down the nausea. You drew in a few ragged breaths and looked at him fully, finally.

He held genuine concern in his face, his blue eyes reflecting gold from the streetlight above. He had a frown set on his lips, his pale skin held a slight pink flush to them. You weren’t sure if it was because of the lighting, or was it because he just…

You couldn’t even bring the word to your mind.

“I can’t wrap my head around it,” You admitted. “You’re not even human – you’re a predator! I just saw you sucking the life outta some innocent –”

“I only took how much I needed,” he interrupted. “And he ain’t innocent. Far from it.”

You gave him a look of confusion. “What?”

“He was gonna go, er, take advantage of his date…” Arthur explained, appearing uncomfortable with the words. “I heard ‘im talkin’ ‘bout it to a friend o’ his. Stopped it before he got too far.”

Your brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I only ever feed on those who have less than innocent intentions,” he continued. “Don’t have to feel guilty that way.”

“You’re a vampire and you feel guilt?” you said incredulously. “I find that hard to believe!”

Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hard. “I still feel every emotion a human can, Y/N. I promise you that. I can’t bring myself to feed on someone innocent.”

You couldn’t help but to scoff. The more he spoke, the harder it was to really believe anything he was saying. You thought back to shared moments with him, how soft and gentle he was when he kissed you. How much of a gentleman he was earlier that night. Memories battled hard with the present. Everything seemed to be conflicting with one another so much that your head began to ache from thinking about it. Was it all just a ruse to have you become his next victim?

“I know it don’t sound truthful,” he sighed. “Hell none of it does. I didn’t want ya to find out so soon –”

“So soon?” you repeated. “How long would have this gone before you decided to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned, pulling his palm down his face. “I jus’…like ya so much, didn’t really think if it ever came to this point. Stupid o’ me, I know. Maybe I shouldn’t o’ bothered tryin’ to get closer to ya n’ save both of us the trouble.”

You stared at him, just listening to his words. Each and every encounter with him spiked up in your mind, a vivid memory that gave you more pleasance than anything else. Sure he seemed weird at first, yet he always portrayed himself as a true and proper gentleman.

His eyes met yours. “Listen…if you don’t want anything else to do with me, I’ll be okay with that. I’ll leave and you’ll forget I ever existed.” He spoke with an even tone, though you could detect something else behind it. Sadness? Regret?

You inhaled deeply and considered his offer. You couldn’t truly forget about him, how would you even erase an actual vampire from your memory and pretend all was normal? It was physically and cognitively impossible. It also meant he was most likely not the only vampire in existence. It would only open you up to a deeper world of curiosity and awareness.

A curiosity that still burned bright through every other emotion you were feeling right now. It mixed with the conflicting feelings for him. You liked him too, still even after tonight. You liked the man he made himself to be. The man who fiercely protected you from assault. The man who wanted to take your relationship slow and not tackle it head-on. The man who offered to pay for your meal and drinks on the first date.

Was he really considered a man at this point?

The same being was in front of you, devoid of human life and had just sucked blood from someone else. Surely your feelings toward him would have changed in that moment, but they hadn’t. The thought of him disappearing seemed less desirable than him sticking around with a heavy-weighted secret now out for you.

“Arthur,” you began slowly. “I…don’t want you to go.”

He stared at you in surprise.

“Maybe I’m stupid too,” you laughed humorlessly, running your fingers through your hair. “I don’t know – but I started to fall for someone – you – because you’re…so different than anyone else I’ve ever dated.”

Arthur shook his head as a rueful smile crossed his face. “I ain’t that special, Y/N.”

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You’re a goddamn vampire, Arthur,” you watched him scoff. “You already have an advantage on all of my exes. Regardless, you’re…kind of like a breath of fresh air. Sounds weird but…” you rolled your shoulders in a shrug. “Just don’t wanna give up, I guess.”

“I will do whatever you’re comfortable with, Y/N,” he said. “If ya really want me to stay, then I’ll stay.”

You really were stupid.

“I do.” You said with a stubborn defiance. “But I want to talk somewhere other than my car. Can we go to my house?”

Arthur shrugged. “I got all night.”

---

You’d pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex not too long afterward. He kept a small distance as he followed you to your place, and you were very aware of his eyes on you. It felt as if you were being watched by an apex predator just waiting for a moment of weakness. It nearly sent shivers up your spine. Arthur however offered no indication that he would even try anything. You stepped up to your door and was in the process of unlocking it when a thought popped up into your mind. Turning around to face him, you met his gaze.

“Hey, is it true that…you can’t come into households unless invited?” you asked him.

He nodded. “Pretty much, but you invited me in last time I was here.”

“So if I were to kick you out, you wouldn’t be able to come in right?” you continued carefully.

“Yes,” he said hesitantly. “Hope it don’t come to that.”

The better part of your mind continuously rang alarms to distance yourself away from him as much as possible. The fear of the unknown was at the forefront of everything else. Yet that was the point of this, to understand him better. He was respectful enough to give you the option to leave, and you assumed it would remain should you become more uncomfortable.

You were satisfied with his answer and opened the door fully. The room flooded with light as you flipped the switch. Last time he was here, he was helping you recover from that nasty encounter with Tom. That seemed eons ago now.

The two of you sat at your small kitchen table, placed across from one another. Arthur had his hands folded on top, waiting patiently for you to begin. A myriad of questions rose in your head and you weren’t sure where to even start.

“You’re not the Saint Denis killer, right?” was the first thing that came out of your mouth, recalling the news report from earlier that day.

“No, absolutely not.” He denied immediately. “There are other vampires who like to drain humans jus’ for the fun of it. I ain’t into that.”

“Then do you know who they are?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I assure you I ain’t affiliated with them either.”

His answer lightened the apprehension that settled heavy in your stomach. You weren’t exactly sure to believe him, yet you could sense truth in his words. “Would…would you ever drink my blood?” you asked next.

“No, not unless you wanted me to,” He replied. He noted your look of disgusted bewilderment. “When we bite humans, it feels good to ‘em.”

You shook your head at that. You couldn’t imagine any situation where that would feel remotely good. “So you only suck blood from, uh, bad people?”

“I try to.” he mumbled.

“And that man you were…feeding from earlier…he looked high. Was that from the bite or…?”

“Nah, I glamored him.”

You tilted your head. “Glamored?” you repeated. “What’s that?”

“Kinda like hypnotizin’,” Arthur explained as he leaned forward on the table. “All vampires can do it. I usually glamor those I feed on so they don’t remember what happened. It also throws them off their harmful intentions.”

You hadn’t expected an answer like that. Vampire hypnotism? “Have you ever glamored me?” you suddenly asked.

Arthur shifted in his chair, his eyes leaving yours to stare at his hands for a moment. He looked rather hesitant. “Yes,” he finally said. “First night we met. You found me feedin’ on some fool who was about to attack someone. Had to glamor you so you wouldn’t remember it.”

Realization hit you like a brick wall. No wonder your memories were so foggy of that night, and why you had no leftover injuries from supposedly hitting your head. “Jesus,” you murmured, rubbing your forehead. You detested the mere thought of having your memories forcefully stripped and leaving you in a state of confusion. Simultaneously you were relieved to not remember that moment at all. “Don’t do that again, please. That’s too freaky.”

Arthur nodded in understanding.

You began to think again as you mind slowly processed all the new information given. “So why just bad people?” you asked. “Are you some sort of vampire cop?”

Arthur chuckled at your response. “Nah, thought I do somethin’ right in my afterlife after livin’ a life of death n’ bloodshed.”

Death and bloodshed. What kind of life did he even –

Wait.

You stared at him with scrutiny, observing every inch of his face. You had his face memorized by now of course. You mentally traced your footsteps back to another face. That day in the library surrounded by newspaper clippings of gangs and outlaws. A face that was practically identical that you’d assumed was just a relative. Not a relative, but the same person.

Could this really be the same person? The gang member and outlaw you’ve learned about?

“Wait a minute, are you who I think you are?” you asked.

“Depends on who you think I am.” He answered, though his face held a knowing look as if waiting for you to say it.

“You’re…” you trailed off. You were certain this was him, you had to be. It was too big of a coincidence for him to not be. “You’re Arthur Morgan, the outlaw.”

He nodded as a dry smile crossed his face. “Former outlaw actually. But I am one in the same.”

Your eyes would have popped out of your head from how hard you were gawking at him. Your jaw fell open and no words could form to even express your surprise. You were staring at a piece of history, a man who walked in the times of the Wild West. Just days ago you were reading about him and his gang, and how he seemed to disappear in the folds of time.

But here he was, sitting in your kitchen.

“Holy shit.” You finally uttered, flopping back against your chair. Somehow it was even more shocking news than learning that he was a vampire. “That’s…incredible.”

“Wouldn’t say that,” he chuckled without humor. “My life was the opposite o’ incredible.”

A million different words and questions whirled in your mind, and you however were rendered utterly speechless once again. You couldn’t even begin to think of the next thing to say. Finally your mouth moved, muttering a sentence that seemed to be disconnected from your brain. “I’m dating a century old outlaw.” You lifted your eyes to meet his.

Slight amusement crossed his face. “’Spose you are, Y/N. You seem more surprised by that than me bein’ a vampire.”

“Well I’m a history buff!” you blurted. “I can only learn so much – but you, you’ve lived it!” your voice shook with excitement.

Arthur took a deep breath, his face melting into a solemn expression. “Like I said, ain’t as incredible as ya think. You can read ‘bout it, watch those spaghetti Westerns n’ shows…none of it does justice.” He shook his head.

Before either of you could speak again, a shrill chime of a phone filled the air. Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He glanced at the screen and grimaced, shoving it back into his jacket. He sighed and looked at you again, an apology clear on his face. “Gotta cut this night short.”

Disappointment radiated through you. Riddled with so many more questions and curiosities, you spoke, “Is it your boss?”

“Unfortunately,” he groaned, pushing back from the table to rise to his feet. “Sorry sweetheart. So much for a night off.”

You frowned slightly, swallowing back a sigh as you stood up as well. It would be selfish to ask him to deny and stay with you longer. Hell, you didn’t even know what kind of job he had. If he worked nights only then it definitely worked in his favor. “Does your boss know you’re a vampire too?” you asked.

“I work for a vampire specific employer,” he spoke, and continued as you opened your mouth. “That’s all I can say.”

You shut your mouth and nodded. You fell in step with him as you exited the kitchen. “I do have other questions.” You remarked, stopping just before the door.

Arthur turned to face you, a small smile appearing on his lips. His hand reached up to hover over your cheek. He was hesitant to touch you after a tumultuous evening. Even you yourself were still unsure on how this will ride out in the end.

However, you did tell him you were willing to try. And try you must. You leaned into his touch, his cool hand felt soothing against your warm face. Relief sparkled in his eyes.

“And I’ll answer ‘em to the best of my ability next time, Y/N. I promise that.” He murmured to you.

“I work tomorrow night.” You said, sliding a subtle hint that you hoped he caught.

He smoothed his thumb across your cheek. “Then maybe I’ll indulge in some alcohol.” He joked softly. He leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #vampire!Arthur #vampire au

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everydayanth · 4 years

Video

youtube

STARTING AT 21:48

TRIGGER WARNING: The thumbnail doesn’t convey the tone here. This is footage of anti-protestors “protecting” a columbus statue in a park in PA. Things get violent, over-sensory, and include mob-mentality stress. Shortly after the timestamp indicated, there is mad disrespect to Native history and culture, a lot of ignorance and generalizations about the local Black communities.

If you don’t want to watch it: I am referring to a point where many white Americans are challenging a journalist asking them about policing, BLM, and politics, and one, to paraphrase, is worried that the journalist is going to cut it to make them look racist and call them white Americans, and he wants to be clear that they are “white Americans of Italian descent with deep roots in the area!” When pressed about Native American roots in the area, they erupt in swears and cuss at him, the same guy yelling “what do you want me to do about it?” Throughout the exchange, another guy is riling them up about media twisting their stories while the journalist continues to explain that he is live streaming and it therefore cannot be cut up. The Italian flag can be seen on shirts, bags, and waving in the background.

I can’t stop thinking about this.

I ran into this in every corner of the US except the deep south cus I haven’t really been there yet (teen years don’t count). White Americans who want to belong to a cultural community continue to cling to their heritage culture in often stereotypic ways as a a way to separate them from the “whiteness” of white America and belong to a local community.

I can’t stop seeing it everywhere. But I know there is no one line, its all grey, and belonging to something bigger than yourself is a powerful connection for humans, as social creatures with dynamic identities and emotions, it can be a grounding place.

But when I see stuff like this, I wonder how the heritage cultures see it. What do you think video clip of this in Italy?

What do the Dutch think of all the Calvinists and Dutch Reformed Church communities in West Michigan? I actually asked a few Dutch people once, and one old guy goes “well... they left for a reason, and no one stopped them for a reason” lol.

Cultural identities were assimilated harshly, or else held onto in unexpected ways. When I look at it, my Dziadzia is Polish, from Poland, but he was a baby when they came, or born shortly after, so his siblings speak Polish (you know I hung out with great aunts and uncles all summer), but he doesn’t, he was pushed to be American. Technically, he’s a first generation immigrant, and I’ve connected to a lot of Polish-Americans and Polish people through experiences and linguistic pieces I never considered to be Polish before.

In contrast, my dad’s Dutch parents lived in the Dutch part of town and went to a Dutch church and read from the Dutch (well, Frisian, I was in my 20s when I learned what that meant or why it was important) family Bible and my nana spoke to us in her thick accent and the d and v sections of my schools were the largest (de- and van- surnames) and we did Tulip Time and renamed areas Holland and Zealand. So while they had assimilated, it was in a VERY Dutch area, and assimilation was quite minimal. Some of my aunts and uncles are very... white-American, while others and my dad (he’s one of 6, my mom is one of 8) are very much Dutch and stayed in the Dutch neighborhoods and churches. It took me a lot of training to start capitalizing proper nouns guys, you don’t understand, then I studied German and I turned in a paper to this really harsh English teacher and he made me stay after class and yelled at me because proper nouns had been left uncapitalized while regular nouns were capitalized... it was a bad day lol.

The Irish are critical of the Americanized St.Paddy’s day (understandably) and the souvenir shops seem to welcome Irish-Americans with open-arms and family crests on every type of knick-knack tchotchke you can imagine, while I have also heard Irish-American claims of identity dismissed in documentaries and series about Gaeilge as their own separate thing, with their own history that has become distinctly not-Irish in culture, location, language, or history (though the British enemy stayed the same).

There are tons of anglophiles in America who idealize England and watch the royal wedding and consume British media with glee.

I’m not too sure about Spanish or French identities in America because growing up in MI, I learned the basic French from Canadian friends and their families, but I associated that with Canada, not France. When did it become different? Like Cajun, is it its own identity? Seems like it, tbh. And I associated Spanish and Portuguese language with friends from Central and South America because I didn’t really know of anyone from Spain or Portugal heritages and learned about them in school as the colonizers (along with Italian). Strange how that framing works to displace blame/responsibility, huh. In that Dutch school and I had to learn about the Dutch East India Trading Co from frickin’ Pirates of the Caribbean? Psh, says enough.

Bavarian has become the American stamp of German heritage, despite many families being from the lowlands or surrounding areas. A German friend got so fed up with the association one time, he yelled at everyone about electronic music, jumpstyle, and green energy so long that we ended up not playing soccer and just listening to him rant about what “German” was not. It was Oktober, and it was a college town, so I get it lol.

Eastern Europeans seem to often get stigmatized while Scandinavians... I dunno, seem to assimilate or keep to themselves? There’s a Danish population in a small town in MI that is very proud of its roots but beyond a parade and some flags, some round pancakes and me struggling eternally with the Danish language, there wasn’t too much of a focus on it. There’s also a large Finnish population in the UP (NOT Scandinavian, Nordic, I know, sorry), and they retain many Finnish words and phenotypic traits, flags wave over porches, but again, for the most part, they’re just... Michiganders.

My view of this could also be very skewed because while I’ve lived in tons of states over the past 6-7 years, that doesn’t change the 20+ I spent growing up in MI, a place that is very insulated and island-cultured, making a steady clash of hot/cold and high/low-context cultures in a concentrated area.

Anyway, European friends (or anyone), do you think about this? Is this a conversation topic for you? How do you view white Americans who stand by or maintain ownership of a European identity?

White Americans who know or claim a heritage often have a story about a family member who rebelled and came to America. Do you have those stories from the opposite POV, a wayward family member who left to America and was never heard from again?

For everyone: is there a point where a cultural heritage becomes an idealization? Where you are no longer an active participant but a bystander? Is there an American replacement or did assimilation remove that? Or did assimilation create it?

There’s an Ancestry.com commercial I think about a lot. The guy wears a kilt or Leiderhösen, I forget which one first, then does some research on ancestry, and finds that his family had their history wrong, so he traded in one for the other. Is this cultural appropriation? At what point do you lose ownership? Or do we always own our roots? What about when our roots get too tangled to trace, or cut off altogether, by our own family’s nonchalance (as in, not remembering or maintaining) or forced by a stronger power?

Is it a different conversation when talking about personal costuming for an event vs anti-protests using their European heritage as a platform to deny change? Or is it the same act to different degrees or in positive/negative lights?

If you are White-American, did you grow up with a heritage culture in your family or community? When did you start to notice it? How has it impacted your identity?

I know these questions also extend to BIPOC and immigrant/religious minority cultures in America, but due to histories of stigmatization, demonization, oppression, genocide, slavery, and appropriation, it seems like that has to be a different conversation. Clinging to roots when someone has cut you away or is trying to uproot you to assimilate is different than willfully leaving, which seems different than being forced out as a refugee or due to internal conflict/crises (famine, war, etc.), these are different conversations to me.

I’ve just been thinking about this a lot.

#identity #society #culture #white american #white privilege #anthropology #heritage #ancestry #high low context #context culture #hot cold cultured #family history #roots #personal identity #appropriation #community #belonging #psychology

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transallymama · 3 years

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The Gender Spectrum: Making the Case to Cisgender People - Part 1: Learn

Introduction

I wish I could write just one paragraph on this topic, and call it done. Because it is a simple concept: accept other people for who they are without judgement, and let them live their lives in peace and according to their own values and goals. However, I am seeing a lot of misunderstanding on the gender spectrum and transgender equality, and it is going to require further discussion to help us all be more educated on the matter. Thus, I have written this essay, broken into parts for focus and ease of digestion. Allow me to explain all the nuances of transgender equality, as succinctly and compassionately (for all parties) as possible.

Essay Contents (the details are subject to change since I am currently still writing):

Part 1: Cisgender Emotional Response and the Quest for Knowledge

Part 2: Terms and Definitions

Part 3: The Gender Spectrum

Part 4: Identity, Broadly Speaking

Part 5: Judgmental Thinking, Broadly Speaking

Part 6: Personal Liberty and Gender Expression

Part 7: Dispelling Common Gender Myths

Part 8: Common Sense Rules of Etiquette

Part 1: Cisgender Emotional Response and the Quest for Knowledge

My name is Erin. I am a woman, a wife, a mother, a sister, and a daughter. I chose those gender-specific words because they match my gender identity. I was born as female, and I identify as female. But this is not everyone’s story. Not everyone’s gender identity fits neatly into a little box labeled “female” or “male.” (I will get to the explanation of how this can all make sense for you, but stick with me.) If you’re like me, that is cisgender (meaning you identify as the gender which matches your biological sex), then I hope you’ll read what I have to say. You might need to hear from someone like yourself to really start to understand why transgender rights is so important in our times - and beyond just understanding it, to become an advocate for the greater LGBTQ community and help others who might be (either intentionally or inadvertently) continuing to harass, berate, and marginalize a group of people already experiencing deep-seated, systemic, and pervasive discrimination. Truly, they need our support!

If you are frustrated or uncomfortable with the topic of transgender equality and the gender spectrum, it is likely because you lack clarity on the issues and/or personal connection to the LGBTQ community. Your best response to these feelings is to 1) acknowledge them, 2) check that your emotional response is not harming others, and 3) learn more about the topic.

First then, before we get into the details on the gender spectrum, I would like to address and acknowledge your feelings. Most importantly, I would like you to acknowledge your feelings on the topic. Phrases such as transgender, the gender spectrum, and gender non-binary might feel confusing or frustrating to you, alienating, foreign, scary, weird, off-putting, uncomfortable. You might feel defensive about making mistakes regarding one’s gender identity because it’s a hot topic, and you feel like you’re trying to be respectful, but you just don’t fully understand it. Your feelings are valid! You are entitled to be shocked and bewildered by novel concepts. We, as humans, fear the unknown; it’s in our DNA. New ideas are scary. Change is freaking hard.

So let’s all feel validated in our emotional reaction. But we must recognize that those feelings are on us. They are our responsibility to work through, and we shouldn’t expect LGBTQ folks to fix it for us or make it less confusing. And we definitely must not discriminate against them or treat them differently from anyone else just because we don’t understand their circumstances. We cannot let our confused (and for some, even hate-filled) emotional response further disrupt the treacherous road for transgender people by spreading hate, misinformation, phobias, and bigotry. We are each responsible for doing the necessary work to better understand this marginalized group.

Let me be clear - I’m not placing blame on any one individual. I’m not here to “out” you or shame you for your beliefs if you’ve had any negative or judgmental thoughts about transgender folks. But I absolutely do think it is every cisgender person’s responsibility to help right the wrong that our society has done to transgender people. And that’s the whole point of why I’m writing about this. I want to appeal to your sense that loving your neighbor makes the world a better place, even if your neighbor is completely different from you. Even if they are transgender. And even if you have never met a transgender person - you probably will at some point, and my goal is to help you accept them, advocate for them, before you even meet.

I implore all of us to respond to our own uninformed perspective with acknowledgment of our lack of information. We’re all so addicted to blasting our staunch opinions nonstop onto social media that we don’t stop and ask ourselves what we know about a topic before expressing our very formed opinion on the matter. We all need to be saying more often: “I don’t have an opinion on that because I don’t really know much about it.” How refreshing would it feel to hear people reserve judgement and admit lack of insight? Furthermore, one’s opinion means absolutely nothing if it is solely driven by emotion. Opinions ought to have a foundation of information and facts.

Consider this scenario for a moment: You have a toothache. You tell your best friend, who looks in your mouth, and proclaims: “You have a cavity! I’m sure of it.” Do you believe them? If your friend is a dentist, maybe you can count on their expertise to provide an opinion of value. But if your friend isn’t a dentist, then he or she is - they are - merely speaking with an uninformed opinion. Ask yourself: “Do I listen to people who speak with uninformed opinions?” I certainly hope we would all trust a dentist to advise us on our tooth health over a non-dentist best friend. But at least, if we listened to the non-dentist, we wouldn’t be willfully enabling the discrimination of an entire group of people. Unfortunately, trusting our own uninformed opinion on transgender folks is, in fact, doing great harm to other people, and we need to start looking at our own words and actions in this way, especially if you have ever shared something online that could be considered anti-LGBTQ.

Knowledge is power because it is the antidote to fear and ignorance. If our goal is to feel less afraid, less uncomfortable, to change our negative emotion to a positive one, then our response should be to start learning. Learn! Find someone who you can talk to openly about gender issues. Ask questions. Listen. Be respectful. If you don’t feel comfortable talking to someone directly, then read about it. Read stories about trans people written by trans people. Watch documentaries about LGBTQ teens, told from their perspective and in their words. Learn about families with two dads. Make sure you’re reading the accounts as told by the people themselves and not a cisgender perspective because it might be skewed or have a motive beyond simply sharing a story. Have an open mind to the notion that your current stance on this matter might not be best for humanity. That’s okay because we all have the capacity to evolve and change our minds!

At this point, you might be wondering why a cisgender woman is writing on this topic. Please consider me a bridge - a bridge from a place where transgender seems alien to the point of confusion and even fear, to the other side where you are starting to understand the gender spectrum and ready to start reading and learning from LGBTQ people themselves. I’m just gearing you up for the real deal. One step at a time. Here we go!

(Stay tuned for Part 2!)

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astharoshebarvon · 3 years

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I am just so disappointed and sad by what I read in a shoujo manga. I couldn’t understand what the characters were saying but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the author was insinuating.

I thought there was serious homophobia going around in it before but I thought maybe I was overthinking the whole thing. I know I wasn’t I was just trying to make myself feel better.

But now it seems like I was spot on with my observations.

Never thought some shoujo mangakas are going to sink so low as to make a character who seems/is gay try to break up the marriage of the main straight couple. Like seriously, you ran out of all cliché, lame ass bullshit that makes up most of shoujo manga plots that you had to drag a gay character into the mix.

God, just say you hate gay people and get out. No need to make them villain like in your story. Take lessons from Clamp if you really want to write same sex relationships or a lgbt character. Or maybe from the author of Hana Kimi. Because you are doing a shit job of portraying them the way you do. How can anyone even write garbage like this in 2020 and get away with it?

If you don’t know how to write lgbt character just write them out, do not include them. It’s annoying, highly disrespectful and gross.

No wonder many fans of shoujo/shonen are also of mind : same sex relationships can be used for humor or comedic effect. We don’t want any real, serious relationships. We don’t like them.

Why are there so many shonen ai, yaoi, shoujo ai anime? Where are straight fucking anime?

Just shut up! Literally all animes are straight! Are you being willfully blind or stupid? There are so few shonen ai, yaoi anime. What the hell are you on to write such horrendous lies?

Ugh. I am still so disgusted by these comments.

Are writers really that upset because more and more people are liking shonen ai, bl, yaoi manga that they have to resort to these petty, horrible tactics in their manga to insult a genre that badly?

I was of mind to buy the manga because the art was very pretty, but now. No way in hell I want that homophobic trash in my collection. Pretty art will only go so far.

This behavior isn’t even surprising if I am being honest here. I have come across a lot of FM stories/fics which literally use derogatory words, slurs for gay people. And, yes, it’s mostly for MM relationship not FF. There is also apparently selective homophobia going around too. FF is fine, it’s MM which is wrong.

FF is fetishized like anything by straight story writers. It’s just so gross to read the straight guy fantasizing about two females as if they exist to make your gross fantasies true. Eww.

Then you have the real winners, the so called writers who want change, diversity in MM ships by turning one character into a freaking girl.

Just say you want straight sex, tons of babies and the dominant male spouting how much he wants to fuck the OFC and see her round with his babies or some other cringe worthy dirty talk.

There’s the hard core truth which will never change, the genderbent characters are OFC. They are just self-insert to live your fantasies with the other guy. At least admit the truth.

Harry is a boy and will always be that. No amount of fem harry bullshit will turn him into a girl. Some even have the audacity to give the oc a brother who is exactly like Harry. Just say you hate Harry and same sex relationships and get out.

I sigh every time when I see the crack stories appear in my pairing, HP/TMR, tag. Just be brave and list them as oc fics. They are that and always will be that. Stay deluded forever thinking fem Harry exists. Why are they even part of the real, slash ship tag? Who the fuck is femHarry?

I wouldn’t be surprised if in said shoujo manga the male lead humiliates the seemingly gay character, or makes fun of him or does something equally loathsome. After all he has made his braindead, stupid, completely garbage of a wife cry, insecure. He deserves to be hurt.

The fem lead is just so stupid it’s not even funny. Most people read it because of the handsome guy, that’s the truth. The girl is so weird and dumb that I am surprised someone even came up with her character.

Then again most shoujo heroines don’t have anything between their ears. They are the ultimate Mary sues, doormats, crybabies or bamfs like anything. They share quite many features with the cracky ofc/genderbent females in fics.

Thank God for mangas like Akatsuki no yona! I would lose faith in shoujo genre if it weren’t for such good stories.

Since we are on the topic of bias, let’s talk about that too. I wouldn’t even be surprised if that weird as hell thing happens in that fanfic sequel anime. Straight ships get away with any bullshit, no matter how weird or strange they are.

There would literally be opposition if the same was shown in any same sex relationship.

Giving the example of Twilight to justify yourself, seriously? Bella tried to kill Jacob after she realizes what he has done. It was weird that he had feelings for Bella then all of a sudden his whole world is Bella and Edward’s daughter. Does that not sound strange at all? (VK has same bull. Ai was first after Zero, then became fixated on his daughter who also returns her creepy affections. Zeki and airen are just so bad. I’ll take Zero/Kaname any day.)

I read a very good post once and it may have been a joke post but it was so freakin true. Why didn’t Jacob feel any attraction towards Edward? Why only Bella? Renesmee was part of both of them or am I supposed to think Bella somehow made her on her own?

Not to mention it’s hilarious as hell when one self insert creepy ship tries to tell another self insert ship we are better than you. Nah, you are both trash of different varieties. One is a pedo ship, one is gross as hell. Thinking the only logical choice for someone is that person’s brother’s wife is amazing. They are both garbage ships who shat on every other ship of this disgusting pedophile.

These shippers vile, gross comments are all over deviantart and other sites.

Not to mention the blatant disregard these assholes have for Inu no Taishou’s legally, wedded wife, Izayoi, Inuyasha’s mother. It’s truly shocking how vile people can be. We get it, you hate Touga/Izayoi because you all wanted what these two lovely people had, a marriage full of love and devotion which you all never got.

Lady Izayoi was no ones mistress, Inuyasha was never ever a bastard. Inu no Taishou/Touga married Izayoi, he loved her and his child so much that he died for them.

Die mad insulting them, they will always always be one of the best couple in this series. Pedo ship, sister in law /brother in law ship can only wish they were like them, they will never be like them. They are both vile.

Certified pedo’s mom was either a one night stand, or had friends with benefits relationship with Touga. He didn’t commit any infidelity, he didn’t betray her, he didn’t two time her. Her ass is chilling in her palace and has absolute no animosity towards him. The greatest disservice to her character will be if they were to make her a creepy pedo enabler too. I hope she never shows up.

Mates don’t exist in inuyasha, she was no one’s mate. More likely, youkai have no such things as bastards. Because that’s exactly what the certified pedo would be if that were not the case, Inu no Taishou and inukimi were never ever married.

I just hope they won’t bring back Touga and Izayoi in this disgusting and vile sequel, they are the only two people left in this series who are not goddamn pedo enablers.

No wonder they called the creepy woman, Zero. She is a fucking loser and a jealous bitch. Touga didn’t owe anyone, anything. He and Izayoi were good, happy, couple who loved each other and people can stay mad about it. She is wife, she is his wife, his only wife who he loved so much he died for her and their precious child. Inu no Taishou adored his wife, Izayoi, and their precious child, Inuyasha.

I always thought Touga loved his sons equally and all the trials he put his first son through were so he realises he is wrong about many things. But now, it’s more likely he made as many plans as possible to humiliate him because he knew somewhere in his heart he was gonna turn out to be a fucking bitch.

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syntaxeme · 4 years

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One Good Turn ch. 4

[Read on AO3] | [First Chapter] | [Next Chapter] Rating: T Story summary: Angel’s clean streak is broken when Val forcibly calls him back to the studio. On principle (and not at all out of concern for Angel's wellbeing), Alastor takes it upon himself to free Angel from Valentino's control. But what started as a simple favor becomes something much more complicated, all because of an innocent thank-you kiss.

— — –

Angel was right to think that Valentino wouldn’t be long in asking after him. The following day, Charlie welcomed Angel back with open arms and tears of joy. The mood throughout the entire hotel improved with his presence, in fact, from the staff to the guests to Angel himself. He seemed very pleased to be back, while the others—Alastor included—were delighted to have him. Yet in the midst of their happy reunion, there was an undercurrent of nervous anticipation, and only a few of them knew why.

After roughly five days of waiting, another large and intimidating demon, different from the last, came knocking. This time, however, Alastor was waiting in the lobby to greet him, having relieved Husker of his duties for the moment. “Good afternoon, my friend,” he called cheerfully from the bar. “Are you here to reserve a room for yourself? For a friend, perhaps? We’re happy to accommodate—”

“Can it, Radio,” the other demon growled.

“—whatever needs you might have,” he concluded. “Well, if that isn’t why you’re here, what can I do for you?”

“I’m lookin’ for Angel. Where is he?”

“Angel? Hmmm, Angel…” Alastor pursed his lips, leaning forward against the bar and drumming his fingers along it rhythmically. He materialized the hotel’s registry in front of him and flipped through the pages too quickly to read them. “You know, I’m not sure who you mean. That name doesn’t appear in our records. Could you give me a more detailed description? I hate to be unhelpful.”

“Look, I’m not in the mood for any of your fuckin’ games. Tell me where I can find Angel Dust. Boss knows he’s here. The longer you keep him from goin’ back, the more pissed Val’s gonna get.”

“I see. Well, we wouldn’t want that,” Alastor said, nodding, sweeping out from behind the bar to meet the visitor. “Maybe I should go and have a chat with Valentino to avoid any misunderstandings.”

“No deal. I’m here for Angel, and I ain’t leavin’ without him.”

“Are you sure? I really think”—there was a burst of static, Alastor’s voice distorting slightly as he gestured toward the door—“this is the best option for everyone. Yourself included. Now, I try not to make assumptions about the feelings of others, but I can promise you, if you refuse to take me to Valentino, you will regret it.”

“Uh.” The crony took a step back, his eyes widening as the room darkened further and further. He must have recognized just how serious Alastor was about this. “All right, all right, just come with me. If you wanna be the one to break the news, be my guest.”

“Why, it would be my utmost pleasure!” the Radio Demon agreed, congenial once again now that he was getting his way. He followed Valentino’s employee out to the limo, which was empty this time. They rode in utter silence, Alastor observing through the window and considering all the various ways Valentino might take the news he had to present. Plenty of possibilities, plenty of options. Of course, it would be simplest if he could talk his way through the disagreement without needing to resort to violence, but then…

Then he recalled the tears in Angel’s eyes those few nights ago, how terrified he was of being touched, how disgusted he sounded when talking about Vox and his men…and he wondered if perhaps a little violence wasn’t in order. Angel wasn’t likely to get revenge himself, but his suffering still deserved to be repaid to the ones who had caused it. Something to think about, at least.

The studio, when they reached it, wasn’t the sort of place Alastor would’ve spent his time willfully. Visual media. Flat facts, no imagination, what a bore. The demon who had driven him there tried to take him up the elevator, but he slapped the man’s hands away from the buttons and entered the car alone with a smile and a grateful bow.

When he reached the top floor and stepped out into Valentino’s lounge, the pimp was waiting sprawled on a velvet-upholstered couch. The look on his face said he’d already been informed in the change of plans regarding his guest. It wasn’t a pleased or welcoming expression by any means.

“Radio,” Valentino said simply. “I knew somethin’ was keepin’ Angel at that shithole of a hotel, but I didn’t figure it’d be somethin’ like you.”

“Well, I do try my best to do the unexpected. To be clear, though, I haven’t been ‘keeping’ anyone anywhere,” he replied, absently twirling his staff through his fingers as he wandered the room. The view from this height was quite impressive—as impressive as Pentagram City could be, that is. “Angel has expressed an interest in staying at the hotel, so I thought I might do you the favor of explaining why.”

“As if you understand anything about him,” Valentino sneered. “You met him, what, a couple months ago? You don’t fuckin’ know him.”

“Not as well as you do, I’m sure. But I also have no interest in leading him to feel or think any particular way. I’m told that’s an area where you and I differ.”

“Then why’re you comin’ here to speak for him? There a reason he couldn’t tell me all this himself?”

“There is! And I’m sure you’re well aware of it,” Alastor said, coming back to stand in front of the couch, hands folded at his back. “After all, you’ve been using it to manipulate him for years, haven’t you? Any time he began to argue with your orders, any time he fought you for his freedom, you subdued him with a show of force that you know he can’t resist. If he were to come here, you would do the same thing yet again. Am I wrong?”

“Must be real easy to stand there and run your mouth about shit you don’t understand.” Valentino’s long fingers tapped slowly along the arm of the couch. “But it sounds like you two’ve spent a while chattin’ about it. He tell you about all the times I got his junkie ass outta trouble? All the times he came crawlin’ back to me when he couldn’t make it on his own? Nah, I bet he painted this big sad picture for ya where I’m the bad guy and he’s never done a thing wrong in his life. That’s what I mean when I say ya don’t know him. You don’t even realize when you’re bein’ played.”

“He didn’t ask me to come here,” Alastor pointed out. “In fact, he asked me not to. His fear of you is so powerful it extends even to others he cares about outside of himself.”

In an instant, Valentino was on his feet, bearing down on Alastor menacingly but not enough to make him back down. “People he ‘cares about’?” he growled. “The fuck is that supposed to mean? You’ve been screwin’ him, haven’t you? You’re the reason he thinks he doesn’t need me anymore.”

Alastor tossed his head back and laughed aloud. “My good man, you are wrong on every possible count. Well, other than Angel realizing that he doesn’t need you. That, he has.” A feather or a tuft of fur from Valentino’s coat floated down to rest on his shoulder, and he brushed it off casually. “No, I’ve been doing nothing of the sort. But he’s made it clear to me that you are not what he wants for his future. So I’m here to make it clear that you will not be a part of his future.”

After a moment of exchanging silent glares, Valentino let out a laugh without ever smiling. “You really think you’re hot shit, don’t ya? You think you can waltz into my place of business and tell me what I can or can’t do with my own property?”

“I sincerely hope you’re not referring to Angel Dust as ‘property.’” Despite all the windows in the room and the fact that the sun was still up, shadows began to slowly gather in the corners and edge toward him. “I’ve come to think of him as a friend, you see, and I don’t much appreciate my friends being insulted.”

“A friend. I just bet,” Valentino scoffed.

“Why else would I have come here in his defense?”

“You tell me, Radio. Vox says you ain’t interested in sex. Not really. Nobody knows what the fuck you’re interested in. But you obviously have some kinda investment in Angel. So what is it about him you like so much?”

The sound of his rival’s name made Alastor’s smile edge into a sneer, and he made no effort at forcing it back into something congenial. “As much as I appreciate your efforts to understand me, I’m afraid I just don’t have the time or will to explain myself to someone like you. Kindly give me your word that you’ll allow Angel to live his own life free from your interference, and I’ll leave you to continue your distasteful business in peace.” He offered his hand, ready to seal the deal and be done with this conversation before being forced to examine his own motivations too closely—but Valentino refused to cooperate.

“And if I don’t?” He raised his head, jutting his chin out defiantly. “If I tell you none of your petty threats or parlor tricks are gonna work on me and I’m not lettin’ Angel go for all the hookers in Hell? Then what?”

Alastor took a slow, deep breath, his mouth twisting into a disappointed grimace as he rested the end of his staff on the ground and ran his free hand through his hair. “If you were to say that, I would be distraught. I did tell him I would try to resolve this peacefully. That being said…” He tapped his staff once, and the shadows that had been slowly creeping closer suddenly shot forward to shackle Valentino’s wrists, yanking down sharply and forcing him to his knees. Not bothering to pretend he wasn’t enjoying this, Alastor went on, “I also told him that if you forced the issue, I had no qualms about forcing your acquiesce. So here we are.”

“You fuckin’ piece of garbage.” Valentino thrashed, and his physical strength was surprising, almost shocking in that it nearly broke the shadows’ hold on him. Nearly. As he was dragged back down, he growled, “Say what you want, but I know you’re tryna keep him for yourself. You think you can take what belongs to me and get away with it? I was the one takin’ care of him. I was the only reason he made it as far as he did. Whatever I wanted as payback, I deserved. If he thinks he can—” Another shadow tendril snaked around his throat to cut off his voice as Alastor grew tired of his excuses.

“I appreciate your dedication to your principles,” he said, starting to stroll thoughtfully back and forth just a few feet from where Valentino was bound. “There’s something to be said for a man who really sticks to his guns, even if your particular guns are objectively repugnant. Now, do you have any sort of formal deal with Angel that details him as your ‘property’?”

“You got me curious now,” Valentino answered, ignoring the question. “You gotta know who I am. You know what kinda trouble fuckin’ with me is gonna get you into. But you’re doin’ it anyway, for his sake. With your reputation, it just doesn’t make sense. But Angie’s got his hooks in you deep, I can tell.”

“A contract? A verbal agreement?” Alastor suggested, not bothering to respond to the other demon’s musing. “Something regarding his career, maybe? What will it take to sever your hold on him once and for all?”

“It ain’t like this’s never happened before, y’know.” Valentino had stopped fighting his bonds altogether, simply sitting still on the ground and watching Alastor thoughtfully, his voice turned smooth and calm. “He does this to people. Sometimes it’s the guys he shoots with. Sometimes it’s fans or clients. They spend a little too much time with him and start gettin’ the idea there’s more to it than sex. I’ll tell you the same thing I tell them: whatever Angel says, whatever little pity games he wants to play, he likes the work I have him doin’.”

“He gives a very different impression.”

“Sure he does. That’s part of the game. He likes havin’ some power to play with, seein’ how far he can get a man to go for his sake. Or maybe he just likes seein’ me kill his drooling puppy-love dickheads over and over to keep him to myself. Who knows what goes on in his head? But you’ve known him a little while. You’ve seen how he acts. You think I taught him to be like that?” Valentino let out a cold laugh. “Nah. He was a slut before he ever met me.”

Alastor’s smile was distinctly pained at this point, his face reddening with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. “I don’t see what any of that has to do with this conversation.”

“The point is he doesn’t want out. He just wants control over somethin’. Doesn’t that bother you? Doesn’t it piss you off to think he’s usin’ you?” With a growing smirk, he went on, “Doesn’t it make ya wanna punish him? Bring him back here for me and I’ll let you.”

Horrified, the Radio Demon reeled back a step as static started to build in his ears. “Excuse me?”

“Hey, it doesn’t hafta be sexual; however you wanna do it’s up to you.” Valentino was practically salivating at the thought, grinning ear-to-ear. “I’ll even make it so he won’t fight back. Do whatever ya want with him, teach him not to fuck with an Overlord. Your thing is audio, right? Well that voice of his sounds even better when he’s screaming—”

Alastor’s fist closed abruptly, and the shadow around Valentino’s neck tightened, jerking downward to slam his face into the cold tile floor. All sound in the room had been drowned in squealing, buzzing static, betraying how utterly livid he was. That was what Angel had noted in relation to Vox. What’s the point if I don’t scream, right? The thought of being compared to that odious cretin in any aspect was enough to boil his blood, but it was especially insulting to suggest his cooperation might be so easily bought with the promise of carnal pleasure, as if he had no more significant motivation.

“I hate to interrupt while you’re clearly enjoying this subject so much”—he spoke over (or under) the static without trying to subdue it—“but I think we’ve gotten a little off-topic. I was asking you whether there are any official deals binding Angel to you. And you were going to tell me so that I could end them. Yes?” Placing his mic under Valentino’s chin to force his head up, he took slight satisfaction in seeing that the pimp’s kitschy heart-shaped sunglasses were now cracked. Better yet, there was no trace of a smile on his face.

“Motherfucker,” Valentino grumbled, sitting up as well as he could. As the tendril around his neck slowly coiled tighter and tighter and Alastor was debating whether it might be safest to simply kill him now and be done with it, he choked out, “No, all right? It’s nothin’…like that. It’s just understood.”

“Then I’ll need you to revise your understanding.” He knelt to be eye-level with his opposition and ordered, “Tell me you and yours won’t approach Angel Dust or coerce him into anything again. Promise me that, and the most you might lose is some revenue. Refuse, and I’ll make it my mission to prove exactly how much more you have to lose.” The white noise had pitched higher and higher to an ear-splitting level, but Alastor didn’t so much as blink as he waited for an answer.

After several moments of stubborn, cringing silence, Valentino finally broke down. “Fine!” he snarled. “I won’t come get him. I won’t make him leave your little freak show. But you need to know he is gonna come back to me, just like he always does, and when it happens, I’m not lettin’ him outta my sight again.”

The screeching static dissipated all at once as Alastor got to his feet again. “Considering how unlikely that condition is, I’ll accept it. I’m glad we could finally come to an agreement.” The shadows released their hold on Valentino and slipped away into the corners of the room again, all returning to its proper state before his arrival. He offered his hand to make the deal official, not at all concerned about Valentino attacking him; even if he tried, it had already been proven which of them was stronger.

Begrudgingly shaking his hand, just once, Valentino growled, “Now get the fuck outta my studio.”

“Oh, with pleasure! I wouldn’t spend a moment longer here than necessary,” Alastor agreed, already heading for the elevator and humming happily to himself. All things considered, those negotiations had gone quite well.

…

It took some time for him to get back to the hotel, as he was forced to walk this time. By the time he reached the lobby, the sun was already setting. Inside, Husker was leaning against the bar and watching an uncharacteristically anxious Angel pace back and forth in front of it, while Charlie waited with her arms crossed. When they caught sight of him, Charlie and Angel rushed over to meet him immediately.

“Al! Where the hell’ve you been?” Angel demanded, looking him over as if to be sure he wasn’t hiding some sort of injury.

“You left the front desk empty too,” Charlie added with a pout. “I mean, no one came in while you were gone, but what if they had?”

“I apologize for the sudden disappearance; there was some business I needed to attend across town. But now that it’s taken care of, I’m back and able to give the hotel my full attention,” he assured Charlie. “If you need anything at all, remember I’m just a call away. In the meantime: Angel. Could I have a word?” With this, he headed toward the stairwell, certain Angel would follow—which he did.

“Niffty said she saw Val’s car out front earlier,” he explained once they were alone and working their way toward the third floor, where Alastor’s room was located. “Is that where you were?”

“Well, I was only in the car for a short period,” the Radio Demon teased. “Most of my time away was spent in Valentino’s lounge. Nicely decorated, that place, if a bit gaudy for my taste.”

“So you talked to him? What’d you say? What’d he say?”

“Surely you don’t expect me to repeat it all word-for-word,” he chuckled. “Maybe I should’ve been recording it for you, if you’re so interested.”

“Alastor, seriously.” Angel didn’t try to touch him this time, instead moving to block his path on the stairs. “What happened?”

“We had a discussion. Like gentlemen,” Alastor said, folding his hands behind his back. “It took some persuading on my part, but he agreed not to pursue you any further. As long as you don’t go back to the studio of your own free will, you shouldn’t have to deal with him again.”

“Wait, so that’s just it? It was that simple?”

“Not quite, but those are the most important details.” Remembering the deal Valentino had tried to make with him, the offer of torturing or otherwise ‘punishing’ Angel still sent an uncomfortable chill down his spine—but he was well aware that hearing all that wouldn’t do Angel any good. “I figured you would want to know, so you can stop worrying every day that you’re going to be called back to him. It won’t happen.” I’ll make sure of that. As he moved to continue up the stairs, Angel spoke again.

“So what d’you want?”

“Want?” Alastor repeated, pausing to glance back at him.

“Yeah. I mean, if you’re for real about this, you just did me a pretty huge fuckin’ favor,” Angel pointed out. “Nobody down here does shit for anyone else without expectin’ somethin’ in return. I know you like your bets and deals and all. So tell me what ya want.”

That was all very fair logic. Alastor did very much enjoy making deals, often the sort that weren’t exactly as they seemed, and collecting favors from those he worked with. It was true he’d taken quite a risk in threatening Valentino, and it made sense that he should want to be repaid. Yet he hadn’t been thinking of it that way up to this point.

“What I did today wasn’t entirely selfless. While I am glad to know you’ll be free to make your own choices, I also wanted to keep you here with us. Er, to give you that option. If that’s what you want. Of course you’re free to leave if you prefer,” he added, not wanting to liken himself to Valentino in that way. “Point being: you don’t owe me anything, cher. I’m satisfied with knowing you won’t be abducted by some third party.”

Angel didn’t respond for a moment. When he did, it wasn’t in the way Alastor expected. Because Alastor was a step or two higher than him at the moment, their heights were roughly equal, which made it simple enough for Angel to lean forward and kiss him. For once, his buzzing static went completely silent, and his eyes widened further as gloved hands slid into his hair on either side of his head. It was a simple, lingering kiss, just light pressure and warmth—but before he drew away, Angel did lick his lips once, softly, briefly.

“Hmm.” As he stepped back, fingertips trailing down the Radio Demon’s cheek, Angel wore a playful, self-satisfied smirk. “Lemme know if ya change your mind about that.” And he left to head back down the stairs, most likely to take the elevator up to his room.

Alastor remained very still, hands clenched at his sides as he tried to understand exactly what had just happened and how he felt about it. While it was true he’d never had much interest in sex, this was something rather different and not altogether unpleasant. Maybe… Maybe he did want something from Angel. But he wouldn’t ask for it. He refused to prove Valentino right in his theory that Alastor had only freed Angel in order to claim him for himself—though that word, ‘claim,’ and all it implied did make him shiver with intrigue.

No. He would not be what Valentino was, what Vox was, what Angel expected of every man he encountered. He wouldn’t insist that he needed no repayment, then immediately prove himself a liar with the slightest temptation. That being said, if Angel were to offer again…Alastor might have some difficulty refusing.

#RadioDust #Hazbin Angel Dust #Hazbin Alastor #Things Are Getting Real #I promise there will be some proper shippy content in the next chapter #oh boy will there ever...#One Good Turn #Hazbin Hotel

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destination-despairing · 4 years

Text

if anyone wants to see that snippet I wrote last night for a project I’m currently calling “Shuichi Saihara and the Ghost of Hope’s Peak” here ya go, I’m gonna go try to focus on my current wips for now but I would kinda like to neaten this up and continue it

“So, have you guys seen the ghost yet?”

It was a question going around campus, spreading like a virus. Everyone was talking about the ghost, the strange figure seen in the windows of empty classrooms, out of the corner of your eye, lurking on the grounds after dark.

“Fuck off, the ghost isn’t really,” one student laughed, pushing his friend.

“It totally is! People have been seeing her for years!” his friend insisted. “I heard she’s a reserve course student who committed suicide.”

“You’re wrong, she’s a teacher who died in that fire.”

“I thought she was the Ultimate Psychic and she’s still trying to get a message through that there is an afterlife.”

“You’re all wrong.”

The students all turned to the quiet kid in the corner, sitting and scribbling away in a small notebook, a hat covering most of his face.

“What’s that?” one of the others asked. “Wrong?”

“It’s not a woman-” he began to explain.

“What? She’s got long hair!”

“Lots of people can have long hair.” he tugged his hat down a little at the loud voices. “But it’s a man. About twenty-two to twenty-five at most, and he’s not a ghost. He’s a person, he leaves footprints a-and fingerprints.”

He had a piece of tape in that notebook where he’d collected those fingerprints, traced over them to keep them from smudging.

“... yeah, okay,” one of the others snorted and rolled their eyes. “Guess Virgin Holmes here has all the info.”

His cheeks turned red at the laughter. They didn’t all laugh, one of them even elbowed the offending girl and gave her a stern look, but just a little bit of laughter was enough to make him want to disappear.

“Like you can…” he muttered to his sketch of the ‘ghost.’

That night as he was heading home he saw him again, standing by the fountain and staring into the water. It was the boldest he’d ever been in showing himself, but he had the ability to vanish so quickly it really was just pure luck he was seen.

He gasped, and moved to hide behind a bush. That small sound alone was enough to make the ghost lift his head, and look around. The student held his breath, and tried to take a small step to the side to better conceal himself.

He turned and found himself face to face, inches away, from the ghost.

“What are you doing?” the ghost asked, tilting his head.

The student yelped and jumped back in surprise, dropping his journal which fell open on the cobblestones. The ghost snatched it up and started leafing through it.

“... you are following me,” he remarked.

“Investigating you,” the student corrected, standing and dusting himself off. “I… s-sorry.”

“You have a lot. A lot more than others ever found.” The ghost sounded… impressed? But above all that he sounded… tired. Monotone.

Bored.

“I wanted to know what you were doing here,” the student said. “No one ever sees you during the day, you don’t teach or attend classes, I… can I ask you who you are?”

The ghost tilted his head again, and shrugged. “I am Izuru Kamukura.”

“The school’s founder?” the student asked, confused and doubtful.

“No.”

“So… it’s a coincidence?

“No.”

“You’re not being very helpful,” the student sighed.

“... ask more precise questions.” the ghost handed him his journal back, and the student hesitantly accepted it, before flipping to a fresh page and patting himself down for a pencil.

“Okay, why do you have the same name as the school’s founder?” the student asked, following the ghost’s advice.

“Because I was an important investment and symbol for this school.”

“I’ve never heard of you.”

“What’s your name?” Izuru asked, moving to the nearby bench and perching on the armrest.

“S-Shuichi,” he answered.

“I’ve never heard of you either,” Izuru replied, making Shuichi groan but also chuckle.

“Okay. How about… why haven’t I heard of you, if you’re important to this school?”

“Because I am a failed experiment.” Izuru stood and started walking along the length of the bench, hopping down at the end and moving to repeat the childish sort of fidgeting on the fountain instead.

Shuichi noted that in his book: restless behavior

“What do you mean by ‘failed experiment?’” he asked.

“I failed the personality tests,” Izuru said. “I lack empathy and motivation.”

“What were you supposed to be?” Shuichi kept scribbling notes, he was so focused he didn’t hear Izuru approach and was once again startled to find him inches away.

“Why do you want to know all this?” Izuru asked.

“... I’m a detective, why are you telling me all this?” Shuichi countered.

Izuru shrugged. “I’m bored.” he glimpsed over Shuichi’s notes quickly before continuing. “Four years ago, a reserve course student volunteered for an experimental procedure, a study regarding the ability to create artificial talent. I am the result, the ultimate human being. However, I failed to become what they wanted: the ultimate hope.”

Shuichi noticed he wasn’t having to prompt him anymore, it seemed he had Izuru’s full attention now.

“As the years passed and it became clear I wasn’t developing the personality they lobotomized out of me, they stopped their experiments. Cut their losses. Supposedly, they are still keeping me for study, but I no longer hide my nightly outings and they no longer care so…” Izuru shrugged.

“... they forgot about you?” Shuichi asked, feeling sad. “And now you just live here?”

“No point going anywhere else.” Izuru sat on the edge of the fountain, hunching over looking almost sulky.

Shuichi tried to gather all the information in his head and process it. It was a lot to digest, but Izuru seemed honest. Of course, a lot of people seemed a lot of things.

“Can you prove it?” Shuichi asked.

“Prove what?”

“Prove you’re the ultimate human being.”

Izuru looked him over. “You’re the ultimate detective this year?” “Yes.”

Izuru quickly circled him, so fast some of his hair hit Shuichi in the face and he made a spluttering sound.

“You don’t stay in the dorms and you’ve been spending nights away from home, avoiding something. You haven’t been sleeping either, but it’s not just from following me. Following me was something to do to give you a reason to avoid home and not sleep. Something at home is troubling you, keeping you awake, causing some sort of emotional distress. You’re also distracted by several of your fellow classmates whom you find attractive.”

“H-how-?”

“Bags under the eyes, rumpled clothes you’ve worn several days in a row, I’ve seen you sneaking about before, and you wrote their names in your journal,” Izuru remarked. “Kaede Akamatsu, Kaito Momota, Maki Ha-”

“Okay!” Shuichi cut him off, blushing. “But that’s simple deduction! I’m not special for being able to do that, anyone could! What else can you do?”

Izuru rolled his eyes, then performed a triple backflip.

Shuichi’s jaw dropped.

“Why is it always the acrobatics that amaze you people?” Izuru sighed.

“It’s… flashier,” Shuichi said.

“Why are you avoiding home?” Izuru asked suddenly, and Shuichi’s face fell. He tugged his hat down.

“... I have to be a detective at home.”

“You’re being a detective right now.”

“... I’m not putting anyone away, I’m not hurting anyone. I’m just watching you… and you could probably kill me for even trying…”

Izuru raised an eyebrow. “That’s reckless. Do you want me to kill you?”

Shuichi shrugged and Izuru suddenly found himself a lot more interested.

Interested? Or… there was a word. He used to use it quite often but…

Concerned?

“A case you’ve solved is troubling you?” Izuru guessed. “Your guardians expect you to continue regardless?”

“My uncle, it’s a family business and… helps to have a Hope’s Peak student as an employee. Good for business.” Shuichi closed his journal, suddenly uninterested in taking notes.

“He’s using you for your talent?” Izuru asked, seeming as close to emotive as Shuichi had seen him so far.

“I mean… I wouldn’t say that but…”

“He is a detective, who either has not noticed or is willfully ignoring your emotional distress so you can continue aiding him. He is either using you, or an incompetent guardian.” Izuru huffed, and folded his arms over his chest. “I am familiar with this. Come with me.”

“W-where to?” Shuichi asked, as Izuru put a hand on his shoulder and started guiding him.

“I don’t use my bed, you can,” Izuru replied.

“I… wait, what?”

“I’m giving you a place to sleep safely, until you finally decide to ask for a room in the dorms,” Izuru said. “Eventually you will have to find the courage to ask for that or tell your uncle no, but right now it interests me to help you so I will.”

“So… I get to see where you live? Where you were experimented on?” Shuichi asked, unable to help his curiosity.

“Yes.” Izuru stepped on the hidden panel that opened the doorway to the stairs, and Shuichi was left surprised once more.

#full story under cut #fic #izuru kamukura #shuichi saihara #do not tag as ship

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theenjoninecollective · 4 years

Note

Hey, I'm just asking this out of interest because I want to understand other people's thoughts. So I don't mean to be rude or anything, ship whatever you want. But why did you choose to ship enjonine over enjoltaire, as the later is such a popular one?

Mod @viridescentlights

Is this your way of flirting, hmm? If it was, it’s not working the way you want it. That aside, you say you want to understand and that it’s out of interest, but if it was, why the question at the end? That’s downright condescending. Simply put, your ask never meant to respect our opinions, in the end. In what way does this benefit you at all, hmm? I ask this because the timing of this ask, though given in January, is suspect. Fandom activity in Les Mis has been quite low, but it always has been given the fluctuating interest of people towards it. Furthermore, there are different factions in the group, and I’ve observed that your group is very active. So why bother us, when your group has enough fan art, fanfic, and whatnot? We’re busy enjoying on our own. It does not matter if it’s popular because that is our interest. Unless you want another fic war because you’re bored? Pfft. You could’ve asked in a better way, you know? We could’ve organized a sort of fic exchange and whatnot! Instead you go ride on your high horse and be demeaning. It’s annoying already.

So, if you want an exchange, just let us know, mate. It’s not that hard to do. Plus, it’s fun. I’ve been able to do one with a good friend who ships enjoltaire. Why destroy when we can make art, mate? Let this be our enemies-to-friends-to-maybe-partners story, yeah? Haha. But seriously. Do not do this rude ask again.

Anyway, I’ll let my friend do the nuanced discussion. Ta.

Mod @decembersiris:

Just because a ship is popular that does not mean I’m going to ship it. Often times now most of my ships are not the popular ones because in the fandoms I am in, the more popular ones end up being really toxic, I have found. And this includes Les Miserables and the enjoltaire ship as well.

Why I don’t ship enjoltaire: the ship itself

I have watched the musical and read the book. I have also watched multiple films and TV series such as the 2012 movie and the French 2000 miniseries. Of course there are more out there and more that I have watched but I’m not going to go into detail, because the point is that I am well reversed in the mediums of the story itself. And in all that I have watched and the book that I have read, the ship does not appeal to me. In the book, it is explicitly said that Enjolras hates Grantaire. And that immediately puts me off against the ship because why would I ship a couple where one of them completely hates the partner. That does not tickle my fancy, regardless if Grantaire loves him. I understand that there are multiple Greek references to homosexual couples to represent Enjolras and Grantaire, but frankly, I don’t care. And I’m allowed to not care. For me, just because there is symbolism, that does not mean the ship is without a doubt canon. Because as Hugo wrote, regardless of the symbolism, Enjolras hates him.

As some enjoltaire shippers throw at enjonine shippers, that we are homophobic because it is written in the book Enjolras has not interest in women. Yep, I understand that that is there. However the way Hugo shapes this information leaves a lot to be interpreted. Enjolras may not be interested in women RIGHT NOW because he’s so focused on his revolution. That is very possible and very real, that he may not want to establish a relationship because he knows what is at risk, that pursuing a relationship will only lead to further tragedy because he knows what he is doing is putting his life at risk. The way I interpret this sentence though is that he is not interested right now because of the revolution and also because Enjolras, to me, is asexual. Just because he isn’t interested in women DOES NOT MEAN (and many enjoltaire shippers willfully ignore this point) he is interested in men. Enjolras could very well be asexual and not interested in anyone at all.

As for the musical, I appreciate the friends dynamic and I enjoy the interactions they have. But for me, that is not enough for me to ship them. Often times friendships and especially male friendships are default labeled as homosexual which to me is erasure of genuine male friendships which isn’t right. So I appreciate the friendship between them, but that isn’t enough for me to ship them.

Why I don’t ship enjoltaire: the shippers

A huge reason I do not ship enjoltaire has to do with the shippers. At first I could tolerate the shippers but as they became more and more harassing of pretty much the smallest ship in the Les Mis fandom, I began to get pretty frustrated with them. Which resulted in my hatred of the ship as well. Granted, not all enjoltaire shippers are intolerant fucks, but a lot love to overstep their boundaries. They, for some reason, cannot stay in their lane, and continuously harass enjonine shippers and infiltrate the enjonine tag with their bullshit. It’s almost as if they’re so insecure because not everyone ride or dies with their ship that they have to go and ridicule the enjonine shippers. And they frame in the guise of “enjonine shippers are homophobes!” and cry about it in our tag. Calling us homophobes just because we don’t ship their ship is incredibly ludicrous because shipping is FUN and HARMLESS. I don’t care what you ship as long as you stay in your lane and don’t try to force your ship onto others! Those who can’t differentiate between real life and fiction and real life and shipping need to take a step back and reevaluate their lives.

I think it’s funny because many enjoltaire shippers call us queer erasure in an attempt to come off as “woke” which is quite hypocritical on their part because they know that many of us enjonine shippers either view Enjolras as bisexual or asexual. For them to call us that, to me, shows just how ignorant and pigheaded they are; they are fake woke, bashing us for not believing what they do when people are allowed to have different opinions. They’re the ones blatantly ignoring the possibility that Enjolras is asexual or bisexual or even both which, I could turn onto them and call them acephobes and biphobes. But I don’t go to their tag and post a plethora of reason as to why I hate enjoltaire and call them acephobes and biphobes.

Regardless of whether or not enjoltaire is implied in the text, that does not mean I have to ship it either! The ship does not appeal to me. Even if they frickin kissed in canon, the ship would not appeal to me. Victor Hugo could rise from the grave and scream that Enjolras and Grantaire fucked and I would not care. I would not ship them because I don’t like them! For some reason, enjoltaire shippers have their heads so far up their asses, demanding we ship their ship because it’s “canon” through symbolism. They critique us for “not have comprehension skills of the book” but guess what, there are so many people who don’t ship canon! There is nothing wrong with that! And enjoltaire isn’t even confirmed as canon! As far as I’m concerned, it’s all headcanon because nothing confirms a solid relationship. Symbolism can be interpreted. The great thing about literature is that everything is up for interpretation and not everyone has to believe the same thing. There are so many ships out there that go against canon but for some reason enjoltaire shippers think they should get a free pass and everyone needs to ship their ship because their ship is homosexual. But that’s not how fandoms work. Enjoltaire shippers do not have the right to ridicule enjonine or any other ship just because they think they’re more woke than others for shipping a gay couple.

There was a point where I came close to multishipping Enjolras with Grantaire as well as with Éponine but that concept sank so quick. It’s because of intolerable enjoltaire shippers that I refuse to ship Enjolras with Grantaire and ship him with Éponine even harder.

Why I ship enjonine

In all the different mediums of consuming Les Miserables, I always found myself absolutely adoring Éponine and that’s because I found myself relating to her more than any other character in Les Mis. She is an endearing character with many flaws, feelings, and complexities about her. When I actively found myself liking a character, I’m most likely going to find a ship for that character because I want my characters to be happy and paired. I was also drawn to Enjolras for the very reasons his friends are drawn to him. He’s inspiring, charismatic, and someone who has his flaws as well, who has done wrong for what he believes is right. Both characters are complex because of their beliefs and who they are and I adore them for that. Because of this I want them both to be happy and why not let them be happy together? Éponine could not be happy with Marius because Marius loved Cosette. She could find that happiness with Enjolras! Yep he might not be interested in women because he is focused on his revolution, but the beauty of fanfiction allows authors to tweak canon to suit their fantasies. And there is nothing wrong with that. That’s the whole purpose of fanfiction. The idea of having my two favorite characters get together makes me happy and anyone who thinks they can police my happiness can fuck right off. This ship has gotten me through some of the toughest times of my life and I’ll be damned if I let other peoples’ shitty and harmful opinions devalue that.

The fact that both of these characters have not interacted makes things even more interesting because of the potential they have! I also believe that if they had interacted, their dynamics would be very interesting to see unfold. Because they are both so headstrong and firm in their beliefs, it would make for such engaging fics and it has. I’ve read many enjonine fics and they are so well written and so fun to read because they feel so genuine and sincere to the characters that it makes me ship them even harder. While sparse, there is beautiful enjonine art out there and as a shipper, it makes me giddy.

Not only that, I have met some very sweet and interesting people in the fandom. While very small, most enjonine shippers are so openhearted and encouraging and because of this ship I have met beautiful people made a few friends as well. They have been nothing but kind and have helped me grow as a writer. Because of them my love for enjonine is as strong as it is. While I may not actively participate in the fandom for now, enjonine is the hill I’ll die on. They are my otp because they have helped me through such hard times and as a result made me so happy. So what if I don’t have canon to validate them? So what if other people adamantly despise the ship? If they despise me too, fine by me. I don’t need that negativity and toxicity in my life. I’ll do me and ship what I please and that’s enjonine.

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