#Manu supported her of course

[randomnameless]

Thinking about Adrestia’s muhritocracy -

In a support that cannot exist in a first run of Tru Piss, Manu says this to a lizard :

Here's the thing about the opera. Talent isn't enough to earn you a position in a glamorous show.

You need money, connections, and, failing those, the stomach to commit a spot of violence.

I spent many nights buttering up nobles in power.

No matter how humiliating the task, I'd do it. Because I wanted to be a star.

That was the case in the Adrestia from Manu’s time, so maybe it would change under Supreme Leader?

Well...

Manu misses her youth, or the time where she was at her “prime” ; in other words, an era where her talent was peerless.

But Manu ages like everyone, and her “merit” and “talent” suddenly don’t matter anymore, because they disappear/decrease with age. Manu can’t sing like Doro does.

I think it was somehow deliberate to show the only “commoners” from the Adrestia be performers in the entertainment industry, where even in real life (talking about idols here) you reach a peak at, let’s say, around 20, and then it’s the end.

No matter how hard you worked or how much talent you have, once you reach Manu’s age (37!) you are not “talented” anymore, and in a meritocracy, if you have no merit, where do you land?

Doro and Manu want to find a (rich) husband as fast as possible, because they are aware their talents - don’t get me wrong, they worked to become professional singers - are only temporary.

So, uh, yeah.

If “merit” suddenly becomes everything, would it change a lot of things for Manu and Doro? Well... (Un)Surprisingly not.

They’d still have value as long as they’re young and can be popstarts, but when that talent starts to fade...

There’s no Church to hire you?

#FE16 #useless things #Muhrit is very important (tm) #emphasis on the muh #in Ionius's adrestia talent wasn't everything Manu needed to befriend nobles to become a star #but in Supreme Leader's Adrestia Manu can only be a star if she's below 25 aferwards she can't sing like she used to do #and she's not in her prime anymore look Doro popped up #Manu supported her of course #but she's not the top star anymore Doro is #rinse'n'repeat with another younger girl when Doro will be older #Adrestia stuff

[wosowrites]

Loosing Control (Jordan Nobbs x Reader)

Warnings: none

a/n: for my well being, i’m going to pretend Jordan is still with arsenal!! also, jordan is the love interest and plays a big part in the story but it’s also kind of an arsenal x reader fix. based on this request:

Prompt: In which fans were getting disrespectful ( i’ll be using this prompt a lot bcs i love it )

You loved playing at the Emirates. It was one of your favorite stadiums to play at, behind Wembley. But, with big stadiums, came more fans, and usually you loved the environment they brought. The cheers, the happiness, the support… it was always welcome by the Arsenal girls. Except today, it seemed as though people were unusually un-tamed.

It was Leah’s birthday, and the second leg of the quarter final against Bayern, you were 2-0 up at half, and then after. Arsenal was playing amazing. Your girlfriend, Jordan Nobbs got subbed on in the 73 minute. You were worried about her, she wasn’t getting the playing time she deserves. But that was a thought for later. You pushed hard, working to try and keep Bayern out of Manu’s box. As a defender, you were making crucial tackles constantly, and by the end of the game, you just fell down onto your back.

Jordan ran up to you, smiling wildly and kneeling down behind you, doing a drum roll on your stomach. "That was fucking amazing!" She yelled, you let out a laugh and sat up, soon helped up by the smaller girl. You hugged her tightly, then pressing your forehead against hers.

Your bubble popped when you saw the Arsenal girls and staff lining up and holding hands, all of them looking at the fans. You and Jordan ran up to them and you grabbed Leah’s hand in one, and Jordan’s in the other. You all ran up to the fans and lifted your hands in the air, the crowd was wild.

You took a few pictures, and talked to a few of the girls on both teams, consoling Giorgia Stanway. Then, fans started calling your name and you walked over to them, smiling. You signed jerseys, hats, flags, scarves, arms, paper, phone cases. Everything. But it was starting to get a lot. "Y/n!! Look over here! Y/N! WHAT THE HELL DUDE?!" An especially angry man was yelling at you, and most fans around him were eyeing him weirdly. Jordan was signing things beside you and Manu was busy talking to a girl wearing her keeping jersey on your left. You didn’t really notice what was going on in the cluster of thighs being waved at you. But then you heard someone say. "Y/n! Can you sign my cleat?" And then you saw something flying towards you.

The object made collision with your head, making you let out a scream and double over in pain. You rested your hands on your knees, bending over. After a second to recover, you brought your hand to your forehead and felt sticky, wet blood. There was then a hand on your back as you straightened up and placed the entirety of your palm on your cut. When you took away your hand, you saw it covered crimson red. Manu looked at you, worried and then Jordan noticed the commotion as the crowd had gotten quite silent. The people in other sections of the stadium were looking around in confusion and so we’re both teams and their managers. You looked up at the fans, anger you couldn’t hold in on your face. You slipped off your shirt, and then the fans started yelling, thinking you would give it to them. "What the hell is wrong with you guys?!" You yelled, but no one but Manu and Jordan who were at your side heard. Pressing your jersey to your forehead, you walked back to the bench, accompanied by your keeper and girlfriend. "What the hell happened?" Jordan asked, stopping you in the field and placing her hand over yours that was keeping the jersey to your face. She pulled the jersey away gently and looked at the cut before applying pressure with your jersey again. "Some psycho threw their cleat at me. They wanted me to sign it." You said. "You’re joking." Manu said, looking behind her shoulder. "I wish. Shit it fucking hurts." You were now almost at the bench when Jonas and the medical team came rushing up to you. "What happened?" Jonas asked, doing the same gesture Jordan had done and taking the jersey off your forehead. "Someone threw their cleat at her. I’ll kill them! I’m not joking." Jordan snarled. "I’ll kill them too! Let’s go!" Jonas said, "Hey! I’m coming too!" Katie yelled, wobbling on her crutches. They all started to walk towards the section you had just came back from. But most of the Arsenal girls, having noticed a commotion had surrounded you guys now, and Jonas got held back by Stina and Rafaelle, Leah held back little Jordan and Caitlin stepped in front of Katie. "Calm down. Okay everyone take a second to breathe. Let’s go in the tunnel." Stina told the group as loudly as she could.

The medic had replaced your dirty jersey with a wet towel that you were holding to your head as you walked into the tunnel, you walked into the changing room and everyone took places at their cubbies. "Okay girls, we’ll address the… y/n situation-" Jonas started saying as you laughed. "-later. But right now… WERE ON TO THE SEMIS!" He yelled. The group started screaming and jumping out of joy, but you stayed put because the medical examiner was cleaning your cut. "You won’t need stitches. I’ll just put a bandaid over it to keep it closed." The man said. You nodded at him and thanked him. He put on the bandaid, informed Jonas and then walked out. "Do you think they got the person throwing their cleat at you on video?" Katie asked you. "I don’t know. Maybe?" You asked.

There was a TV in the changing room and sooner than you knew it, Leah had turned the broadcasts on and rewinded it. Surely enough, there was a camera panning the stadium just as you got the cleat to the head. You can clearly see how you doubled over and how Manu came rushing to you.

"Ten bucks says I can go back out there and make the person who threw that shoe wish they were never born." Jordan said, only half joking. "I’d pay good money to see that. But you don’t want to end up on those 'when arsenal women loose control' videos on youtube." Caitlin joked. "Oh my god… I yelled. I yelled at the fans when they started screaming for my jersey when I took it off to wipe my blood. Am I gonna be on those videos? I can’t be on those videos. Those are like.. 98% clips of Katie!" You said, making Katie scowl at you even though she knew you were right. "Don’t scowl. You know it’s true." You said to her.

"No one heard you, the stadium was too loud. It’s all good." Manu said, smiling at you from across the room.

You went on to shower and then change, and eventually it was only you and Jordan left in the locker room. "I’m proud of you. You played great." You told her, walking up to her and putting your hands on her waist. She held your arms and smiled at you. "Thank you. It felt good to be on even if it was only for 20 minutes." She told you, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. She leaned in to kiss you, and you kissed, tangling your fingers through her hair. "Let’s go love birds." Kim Little said, peeping through the door way. "We don’t get any privacy, do we?" You laughed, keeping your hands on Jordan as you both looked at Kim. "You’re making out in the changing room like teens. Let’s go." She laughed, walking away. "Sit with me?" You asked, looking back at her. "Why do you always ask me that? I’ve been sitting with you every trip for years." Jordan said, grabbing her bag and yours. "For old times sake. To remember the first time you asked me to sit with you." You said simply.

7 years ago.

It was your first away game since joining Arsenal. You had joined only a month ago, but due to international break and the schedule, all your games had been home games. You were nervous, not wanting to be the one sitting by yourself. You had gotten close with the girls, but you were still shy. Jordan Nobbs had caught your eye, having talked to her a few times. You were 21, and fresh out of the university of Portland. Moving to London… it was hard. But you knew it would be worth it. The team were all waiting at the training centre with their luggage, waiting for the bus that would take them to Manchester for their game against City. You were standing quietly in a circle with a few of your teammates when Jordan came running up, the girl looking even smaller beside her large luggage. "Am I late?" She said, joining the group. "Yep. As always." Leah teased. "Damn it. Don’t tell Pedro." Jordan said. You smiled at yourself, finding her tardiness funny. "What you laughing at?" She teased you, nudging your side. "You." You laughed, looking into her eyes with a smile. Jordan looked back, ignoring the girls who had started up their conversation again. "Hey, sit with me?" She asked. Your eyes widened at the offer, but you nodded. "I’d love too."

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #arsenal fcw #katie mccabe #leah williamson #caitlin foord #jordan nobbs #georgia stanway

[songofopal]

The Jackal Squad ( song of opal Au)

Wanted to do some introductions to the jackal squad in this lil Au. For starters the squad are all siblings (yes we caved and chose this route) with Infinite being the oldest (they do have a sibling older then infinite but she’s a bit unimportant to the story until later on) . Getting into individual introductions we’ll start from oldest to youngest.

Finnegan/infinite:Birth name Fadil, Finnegan is the oldest male sibling who often took over the role as father figure to the younger ones when their dad, known as the phantom(Manu),would go on rigorous missions to provide financial support for the family. He’s pretty cunty of course when in front other mercenary groups. Only his siblings have seen his true self under a metaphorical mask until after the “death” of his youngest sibling to where he masks even around his family

Bandit/uno:Birth name Cairo , Bandit is the third child as well as adopted into the family. He is a very good strategist tho often buts heads with Finnegan during a missions planning stages . Hes also the best cook out of all of the siblings

Louis/Deux:Birth name Karim, the right hand man to Finnegan and the forth child. Him and bandit are the same age tho Cairo is a few months older. The Shakespeare theatre kid sibling basically. Also the coffee addict

Zulla/Trois:Birth name Nefret , Shes a big Tom boy and a very bad influence (in a loving way) with the youngest two. She’s not really close to her oldest sister (Tiye) since Tiye would focus on Academic’s more after the incident.

Blitz/Quatre:Birth name Amr, he is a very chaotic child and often gets himself into trouble. He looks up to his sibling’s and would try and impress them which often gives Finnegan a heart attack when the boy gets into something he shouldn’t. Has a special interest in weapons and artillery

Aida/Melody/Majesty :Body’s name Anipee , the youngest of the siblings. Very musically inclined with their favorite instrument being the violin 🎻. They were very close to Finnegan and blitz before the incident. As the system formed Aida became the name of a protector with Melody being the hosts name.

Honorable mentions being the oldest Tiye who went to be an Archaeologist and works at being a teacher part time when she has no expeditions.

#jackal squad #sonic fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #sonic forces #song of opal #sonic au #infinite the jackal #sonic fan character #sonic oc #sonic fanbase #infinite #melody the jackal

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi. It’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. I’m back with part two of my series, Laurence (I went in age order, ha ha). Laurence’s is based on reporting I saw about their response to her divorce. I’m unsure how true that report is, but I honestly haven’t seen that much else about her. Of all three, she’s the one I had the hardest time with, because of that and because I’m unsure what a relationship would look like given they’re the same age and were peers in school for so long. They’re obviously close (she shows up at all the major events, she clearly spends a lot of time on vacation with them), but beyond that? So like Sebastian, I went for a more friend-ish relationship than a strictly parental one, even if he clearly loves them like one (every time he says “nos enfants” my heart grows two sizes). Hopefully you all enjoy it.

For context, according to the report she spent a week with Brigitte in Touquet and Emmanuel cleared his schedule as much as he could to spend the weekend with her. (PS as a disclaimer: I’m sure her ex is a lovely guy - I just figure Emmanuel and Brigitte are incredibly protective of their kids no matter what, so no hate towards him was meant by this piece.)

II. Laurence

"Where is she?" he asked his wife the second he ran in the door of their house in Touquet. He hated that he couldn’t get there sooner, couldn’t get there the second she had called them in tears as the world had felt like it was ending. He hates more that he has to leave tomorrow, a short weekend the most he could clear from his schedule. He was desperate to make this time count as much as he could.

"She’s on the couch right now in the living room," Brigitte replied sneaking a quick kiss, needing to ground herself in him after the last few days she’s spent providing moral and emotional support, the process bringing up some of the trauma from her own divorce she had worked hard to put behind her while her heart broke at the sight of her daughter in obvious pain.

"How are you doing?" he asked, realizing from the way she was acting that while she has been putting on a strong front for her daughter, it was a front.

"I won’t lie and say it’s been easy for me. It is splitting me in two watching her like this. All I want to do is protect her, to make sure nothing and no one hurts her. It’s what I’ve done my whole life and then this asshole, who promised to love her and cherish her and take care of her for their rest of their lives does this? And there’s nothing I can do to protect her? That hurts far more than anything else this is bringing up. Besides during my divorce, at least I had you -"

"She has us. She’s not alone."

At Brigitte’s nod, he snuck another quick kiss before rushing into the living room, his heart breaking at the sight of this strong, intelligent, kind hearted woman so hurt.

"Men are the worst," he opened with a joke, hoping to bring a smile to her face, rejoicing at the light, surprised chuckle he got from her.

"Not all men," Laurence replied, moving to make room for him next to her on the couch.

"You’re right. Your brother’s not bad."

"And my kids! And my nephews!"

"Of course, although, I said men. They’re still boys," he allowed, sitting next to her and holding his arms out to hug her.

"I’ll keep that in mind," she replied as she settled her head on his shoulder.

"My brothers aren’t horrible, I guess, although, jury’s out on your Uncles."

"Still holding grudges?"

"You hurt one of my girls, and I never forget that," he told her very seriously, so she knew and could appreciate the full weight of what he was saying.

"You’re forgetting someone pretty important in that list there, Manu."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You’re not the worst."

"I don’t know about that. As soon as you hung up, I threatened to send the army on him. Ask your mother. She had to talk me down off that ledge."

"Why did she do that?" she asked with another light laugh.

"I know, right? Something about ‘abuse of power,’ and ‘she wouldn’t come visit me in jail,’ and I think she may have mentioned something about how he’s ‘still the kids’ father.’”

"She’d so visit you in jail," she replied, levity starting to work its way back in, especially at the image of her mother visiting him during visiting hours, a smile finally back on her face.

"That was her weakest argument," he agrees with a smile of his own.

"I mean. She wouldn’t be happy about it, but she’d be in anytime there would be visiting hours, and probably would wait outside when she couldn’t be in there with you." She let out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. "Thank you. I needed that."

"Humour? I got a whole set of dad jokes lined up. Do you want a pun or corny knock-knock joke first? I read a whole book in preparation on the way over.”

She laughed, full-heartedly at that for the first time in days. "Thank you for cheering me up, for supporting me, for always being here when I need you."

"Listen to me," he said, pulling back to she could look him in the eyes and see how much he meant it, "you are my girl. I meant what I said - no one hurts my girls and gets away with it. Not your mother, not you, not your sister, not my granddaughters. He hurt you. He will not be getting away with it. Not on my watch.

"I’m sorry I only have this short time to be here in person right now. It’s in moments like this that I wish my schedule was more my own, more normal, because if I could take the full week off and bunker down here with you and your mother, I would. But I am always one phone call or text message away, any time day or night, any country or time zone. Because I am here for you, always."

She smiled as she saw her mother enter the room, clearly feeling like she needed to join them. "Come on, maman," Laurence waved her over.

Brigitte settled on the other side of Laurence from her husband, making sure she was cocooned in their love. "We love you," Brigitte snuck a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you two, too."

Hellooooo fanfic Anon #2! ❤️

Oh my heart! No but seriously, If I thought it couldn’t get better and sweater than Sebastian’s story, you just completely proved me wrong. In all ways! 👏🏻

Even through the difficulty that it is to write stories about their kids, you just continue to do it and brilliantly! And I continue to repeat myself but I can’t get tired of saying it... love how hard you work on trying to stay true to the actual characters involved! Thank you, really appreciate it!

Hahaha Emmanuel threatening to send the army on him for hurting his girl, the conversation between Emmanuel and Laurence about Brigitte reasoning him on it and saying that her mum would visit him on jail made me laugh! But that kind of laugh with a very warm feeling in the heart 🤧🥰🥰

This means, there’s only one story of the kids left ☹️ hahaha I wanted more because it’s just so beautiful!

Thank you so much! ❤️❤️❤️

#fanfic #fanfic anon 2

[where-the-sabia-sings]

Manu and the 1964’s dictatorship Part I

Hold on cause this is going to be long

* so, I wanna start this with the fact that for Manu the first 2 years were probably very confusing for her. Cause at first she thought for a moment that all military discourse about “we’re saving Brazil from the communists” and “we’re putting order” could actually be a good thing

* I mean from most of Latin America countries the Cuban Revolution not only had a huge influence and impact in the social movements, but also helped to spread “Red Scare” even more.

* And then you had a 19 year old Manuela, in the middle of Cold War, finally setting up for a Non Aligned diplomacy, having to deal with a political crisis made by Jânio Quadros resign, and also trying to mend the lingering consequences of Varga’s suicide in 1954. The girl was on the verge of a anxious attack, but having to conceal everything inside of her, cause if there’s one thing Manuela love is sweeping every “minor” issues under the rug and put up a smile (preying for the best)

* On the other side you had Manu’s never endings desire to finally consolidate as Latin America’s power house. she sided with the victors of WII (after Vargas pounding a lot which side would benefit more) waiting for new position in the post war scenario that would come, and where was her reward??

* Now add all this internal struggling with Alfred’s paranoiac and overbearing self after what happened with Cuba.

* I headcanon Alfred having an extremely distorted heroic view of himself, especially when it came to dealing with his Latin American neighbors. He sees himself as some kinda of a “liberator” of the Americas, he’s the one who kicked his colonizer father first (coughHaitididitbetterthoughcough). He with all his liberal ideals who knows better than his poor neighbors, and of course, should be the one “””guiding””” them.

* A fucking condescending son of bitch that’s what he is

* When Cuba kicked him out in 1959 that heroic illusion was shattering and Al couldn’t bear the idea of another of neighbors deciding going against him and siding with Ivan, even more when it was one as big as Manu. A continental Cuba to haunt him.

* Now going back to Manu

* Brazil’s boss, Jango, (the vice president who succeeded in power after Jânio Quadros resign) with a more laboristic left leaning ideology going for new social politics, like finally setting up for a new land reform, and closing ties with China.

* Please keep in mind he was not a Communist, and at that time Brazil’s communist party was extremely weak and has its leader exiled.

* also said, it didn’t mean that other social movements, like Ligas Campesinas, weren’t working at the moment.

* Jango had a very hard time staying in the Office, he had to deal not only with internal problems like Campanha da Legalidade, but also the international (read US and Europe) pressure.

* All this movements only helped to increase the US believe that Brazil would fall under a communist rule (a joke i know).

* With the support of Brazil’s elite, the Catholic Church, and of course, the military (who has always been a far right reactionary force), the US advanced in Plan Condor and decided to support the coup d’etat made by the military.

* And this support came in all the aspects it could be, financially, ideologically, creating organizations with the only

* To translate all this stuff this to hetalia, I can see Manu in mix of a anger and anxiety with the fact that when things seemed to finally calmed down, and she’d be starting as a new power, she was again in middle of another crises.

* Put this together with Alfred desperate to maintain his dominance in the americas after Cuba, and his insistent sickly overbearing pressure about how Ivan’s influence would only bring chaos

* Alfred knows Manu’s desire to aspire like him, and he knew how to manipulate her into his wishes too.

* Manuela knew very well the damage that a institutional rupture brings to a nation, but she let Alfred’s pressure (and her own greed) blind her into the ideal that the military would still be a better option. That all the “collateral” issues could be overcome with time, I mean, they’d only be there for the time to clean up all mess and go right??

* But as we know that didn’t happened, this nightmare was only beginning and would last for 21 years

#aph brazil #hetalia #hws brazil #latin hetalia #lh brazil #hws america #aph america #Cold War #imperialism #us imperialism

[voigt80voigt]

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#블로그교육

[scotianostra]

“Stop the world, Scotland wants to get on”

The words of Winnie Ewing after her win Hamilton for the Scottish National Party in a by-election on 2nd November 1967.

Winifred Ewing became only the second SNP MP to be elected to Westminster. The result was a shock for the other Scottish parties and especially for Labour which had taken 71.2 per cent of the vote at the previous general election. 

The Nationalists, who had been written off as a spent force, suddenly seemed to be staging a dramatic recovery. The first party to react to this challenge was the Conservatives. The following year their leader Ted Heath made a commitment to advancing Scottish home rule at the party's Perth conference - the so-called 'Declaration of Perth.' 

A  poor showing in the 1970 general election, where they lost Hamilton and took only one other seat, the Western Isles, of course led to the shelving of Heath's plans, betrayed again by Westminster with false promises.

Later electoral successes for the SNP led the other parties to re-examine their attitude to Scottish autonomy. This is how the Daily Record (which had already hired Ewing as one of their columnists) reported her arrival at the Commons and her swearing-in.

Scotland's first Nationalist MP for 20 years yesterday took her seat in the House of Commons. It was Winnie Ewing's day - and a proud day it was. As she passed smiling broadly and giving the thumbs up sign to a cheering avenue of nearly 600 supporters, the fragile-looking heroine of Hamilton said: 'This is a wonderful feeling. I don't think any woman in Scotland could ask for more. I'm proud to be here for Scotland.'

On her new role in the corridors of power, she declared, 'Of course I expect to make an impact . . . not today and perhaps not tomorrow . . . but certainly before my time at Westminster is up.'

After the hard slog of the Hamilton by-election, this was the hard-earned icing on the cake. Earlier a railway special emblazoned with the SNP crest emptied 250 supporters onto the platform at King's cross. In the pre-dawn darkness banners waved and a lone piper played 'Scotland the Brave.' The glare of television arc lights recorded the tartan triumph.

Winnie was joined on the overnight express from Glasgow by party members and kindred spirits in Hamilton and Edinburgh.

And for 400 miles the whisky flowed fast and song flowed faster. But in spite of yesterday's pomp and cermony, it was also a family day.

Winnie was accompanied by her husband Stewart and the children - Fergus 10, Terry 3 and Anabelle 7.

At King's Cross they were met by cars to match the mood. Three all-Scottish [Hillman] imps whisked the Ewings to their Kensington hotel whilst special buses took supporters to a victory breakfast.

Meanwhile party members held a summit meeting with Plaid Cymru, the Welsh nationalists at London's Caxton Hall. The hall was festooned with banners and placards, including one on the Boston Tea Party theme, 'taxation without representation is tyranny'.

Back at the hotel, Winnie was searching for a lost sock. As she helped the children dress, parliament was still three hours and three miles away.

Then Dad arrived on the scene to take the family sight-seeing while Winnie left for a trial run through of the afternoon's ceremony.

She was greeted at the gate of the House by Manus Boyle, a Scots bobby.

'Welcome to London, madam,' he said. Then he turned 'She's rather sweet isn't she? She's bound to cause quite a stir.'

Then at 2.35, the climax, Winnie in purple costume - with a sprig of lucky heather - walked with her family through the crowds and into the commons. The Hope of Hamilton had become the Wonder of Westminster.

Daily Record, 17 November 1967

Winnie Ewing’s husband Stewart was so certain of victory that, according to the Advertiser of the time, he won £1500 on a bet placed with Ladbrokes.

After losing her seat three years later  Ewing returned to Westminster as MP for Moray and Nairn in February 1974 when the SNP won six seats and although her majority declined in the October election that same year which saw 11 SNP candidates elected, she held on and became the SNP’s spokesperson on external affairs and the European Economic Community.

Winnie became a prominent Member of the European Parliament (MEP) in 1975.

It was during her time as an MEP that she acquired the nickname ‘Madame Ecosse’ because of her strong advocacy of Scotland. By 1987 she had been elected the SNP party president and in 1995 she had become Britain’s longest-serving MEP but gave up the role in 1999, instead becoming a Member of the Scottish Parliament, where she represented the Highlands and Islands.

On  May 12th 1999 Winnie entered the history books once more with the words

“The Scottish Parliament which adjourned on the 25th of March in the year 1707 is hereby reconvened”.

On a personal note I never seen my gran as a political person, but she had a picture of Winnie Ewing on her wall. Winnie turned 92 in last July. 

#Scotland #scottish #SNP #strong woman #winnie ewing #history #political history

[ladyhindsight]

I'm not sure if Jem is strictly related to Emma (I think Jem's father - who was white - had a sibling, and Emma's line starts there, so I don't think she's supposed to have Chinese genes), but it would have been so cool for the Carstairs to be an Asian family.

It was mentioned several times that Ascended mundanes take SH names, so potentially Clare could have entire families of color and still use her precious English names.

Or she could have written that Jem had a brother who passed on the Carstairs name, and all the heirs married Asian people, thus making the bloodline Asian.

There were so many options smh

It would have been so powerful to finally have two fully POC families (Rosales + Carstairs) in one series!

Or at the very least have Emma mention her Persian heritage.

Instead we got a Jace copy cat and a token religious latina to support her 🙄

Clare wouldn't be half as popular if she didn't play with nostalgia and used old characters to promote new series.

Yet she seems to believe that a mere name is enough to inspire affection.

She made Emma a Carstairs because the name would hit readers in the feels, but did not carry on the narrative of half POC Carstairs because it wouldn't be aesthetic enough and it would be too hard to write. Effort? What's that?

A Jace copy cat though? Much better right?

(It's something that I hated about Kit's storyline, too. Once people find out he's a Herondale, they start calling him Cristopher (even though he HATES it! that's not his name!) and expect him to give up his previous life for them. A mere name is enough for the SH to FORCE someone to join their ranks. Familial bonds? Never heard of them, but you have the right last name so you MUST be with us and readers MUST love you. It's particularly heinous in Kit's case because his father (idc about what Clare says, your family are the people who raise and love you, not the ones who fetishize your last name) was a Downworlder and lived in fear of the SH)

Clare is so attached to names she doesn't realize the narrative she creates around them are very toxic and racist.

And she uses them to manipulate readers and promote sales, without putting in any effort to create likeable, relatable characters.

Readers are beaten over the head with: You Must Love These Characters Because of Their Family Name.

She uses the names for the nostalgia factor but won't put in any actual effort for representation.

Yet people hail her as the queen of rep 🙄 (tbh it's like 99% white people who do that, because for them a character of color being in the story is omg so groundbreaking! consider yourselves lucky that she even writes these characters! who cares if the story is problematic!)

As someone who didn't pay much attention to family trees before, I was SO disappointed when I went from TID to TDA: from half Chinese Jem... to white, blond, golden eyed Emma.

The name was supposed to make me nostalgic and bond to the character immediately (because that's how shallow Clare is) when it actually made me angry lol

(You can probably tell by my anger that I'm Chinese myself 😂 this shit really hurt me, and my friends too)

Tbh I feel no connection between the TID and TLH characters, and the TMI and TDA characters. Even though they're supposed to be related and family is oh so important for Clare...

Cloning characters does not a family make. It makes for terrible storytelling.

Yeah, Jem and Emma have a common ancestor, like you said, and both are thus from different branches. And it’s definitely Clare’s love for “Shadowhunter” names. But you’re just using compound names, essentially just combining two words, surely you could try to do that with different languages instead of keeping them strictly English? There is, of course, Bellefleur and Morgenstern, but they are still rather Eurocentric for being French and German.

Then not all family names even seem to go by this “rule”. There is Mendoza, Rosales, Delgado, Ke, Wang etc. Cristina, Diego, Jaime, and Manuel are all named according to Spanish naming customs where the given name is followed by paternal surname and maternal surname, most commonly in that order: Cristina Mendoza Rosales, Diego and Jaime Rocío Rosales, and Manuel Casales Villalobos.

It was noted under Rosales Family etymology that “Rosales is not exactly a composite word like English Shadowhunter names, its translation (rosebush) is.” So I went to go see the Ke family, and Ke translates to “stem” or “axe handle” in English. So, I don’t get any comprehensive idea behind the Nephilim naming customs, because if the names of some of the Shadowhunter families aren’t following the compound word custom, then why there has to be such a thing as “Shadowhunter names” at all? The English names are heavily underlined and central to the series as a whole. Rosales Family that is mostly Mexican is rather recent compared to the main quartet—Herondales, Carstairs, Lightwoods, and Blackthorns—and hasn’t had (or doesn’t have) such a major role in the series compared to them.

The character should bring the essence to the name, not the other way around.

The series stresses too much the importance of one’s name. Simon can’t continue on being Lewis and must change his name into a Shadowhunter one. But like, why? Why can’t their names be just anything they happen to be? Sure, there can be old and notable families, crème de la crème of the Nephilim, but to limit the possibilities of someone’s name because it is not an English compound one is way too restrictive and merely forces assimilation. You shouldn't have to give up who you are in order to be other things as well.

I so hated that the name was forced in Kit when they found out he’s Herondale. It began to define his character too much. Clare is so incredibly unwilling to let the name thing go. She seems unable to let these families go. Instead of coming up with a completely different Shadowhunter family in another country and telling some other story entirely, she keeps writing about the same characters and things over and over again. Because, yeah, effort? What is that?

When I read CoHF for the first time, I was annoyed with Emma’s chapter because she meant nothing to me, her name meant nothing to me. Oh, she’s Carstairs? So what? Her character was dull to read about. I wanted the final plot to progress, not read a setup for another trilogy through a character that was not interesting.

The Ke family members apparently appear in The Lost Book of the White. But there is no series dedicated to them as there isn’t series dedicated to the Rosales family. In grand scheme of things, it’s never really about any other family at all. All Clare’s representation stand in the sidelines when the pain of Clary and Jace, Tessa and Will, Emma and Julian takes all the space in the story. And they are given it by Clare.

What is Cristina’s complicated feelings about her love life to Emma’s who is about to blow up the world because of her love for her parabatai? Who cares where Maia disappears after having her life threatened as long as Clary and Jace’s story is finished? What about Maia’s own peace of mind and sense of safety when Jordan Kyle needs to have a “redemption arc”? What is Jem’s part in the contrived plot that heavily favors Will Herondale still?

It’s like Clare is unable to create compelling characters that didn’t need their family names to be liked and loved just for who they are as characters. It's lousy, this narrative and the fixation on names, because all they do is end up spoiling everything else. Especially when the author herself doesn't seem to even realize it or care to realize the disrespect her readers feel and the hurt it is causing.

#Series discussion #Anti CC #Reply

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ A BABY IS COMING ❜

Headcanon

with Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas.

Request: I LOVE THE BABY ON BOARD WITH GILLY SO MUCH I WAS WONDERING IF I CAN REUQEST THE SAME HEADCANNON BUT WITH CREEPER??!!

BY @imanerdychubbyqueen

Warnings: appearance of a LGTBI character (I don't think that this needs a warning, but if you think that I need to warn it because bothers you the appearance of a LGTBI character, please, unfollow me, thank you). 🏳️‍🌈❤✨

Word count: about 1.4k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author, I found it on google.

Masterlist.

Whilst Bishop, Tranq, Taza and Riz were extremely Happy knowing that Creeper and you were expecting a baby, the guys just made jokes.

“Man, you are a fuckin child, how is supposed that you're gonna take care of a baby?”

“Did she really let you get her pregnant? Or was it a ball to the goal?”

“'Am sure cops are gonna stop you, if they see you with a baby, carnal. They will think you stole it or somethen'”.

Creeper didn't care about their opinion, but about yours.

“What do you think, ah?”

You were three months pregnant, and you were pretty excited and stressed at the same time, choosing some names, even if you didn't know yet if it was going to be a girl or a boy.

“Sorre, mama, I wasn't listening”.

“Something bothering you, papi?”

“Nah, you know… just the guys being fucking assholes”.

“Neron, you're gonna be the best dad ever and I don' need to tell you why. I just know it. You trust me, rai'?”

The gender reveal was simply amazing.

All the charters came. Your husband was erratic placing his motorbike in front of all, because the answer was inside the exhaust pipe. It was enough to start the engine and hit the gas. And he did. A blue smoke flooded the yard, between loud cheerings, hugs and kisses. Leaving away his motorcycle, Creeper ran to you, lifting you up between his arms screaming how happy he was. Actually, he didn't care about the gender, he would be this excited knowing it was a girl too.

He used to spend his free time assembling all the bedroom furniture, finding him sleeping a lot of time on the floor with the instructions on his chest.

Every night, he lied down over your belly, carefully to not hurt you, to sing him his favorite songs because the doctor said that it was good to talk to him.

He didn't care about what time it was whenever you had a craving. If he was in bed, he just jumped out of it. And if he was with the club, Chuckie was in charge of it. Everyone was delighted with the idea of having a new member.

In childbirth, he was the most supportive man on earth, holding your hand and filling your face with a bunch of gentle kisses.

And you have never seen him cry, but when the doctor gave him his baby, he was crying more than your son.

“Mama, look”. He said fascinated, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling down a little the Mayans' towel Vicki wove for him.

You were exhausted, feeling pain all over your body and about to fall asleep, doing a last effort to hold your newborn.

“He has your nose”. Creeper chuckled, leaning towards you to kiss your forehead.

The first day of Kid Garden, your husband insisted on bringing the whole crew.

“Okay, Manu, listen”. Neron squatted to his son, placing both hands on his tiny shoulder to put on well his bag. “The mission is to make more than ten friends. If you do it, papa is gonna give you a surprise tonight, deal?”

“Yeah, papa”. He nodded excitedly, before jumping into his father to hug him as strongly as he could.

“Hey, buddy”. Bishop called him, leaning next to your husband. “Don' be a casanova like your dad, ah?”

“What's tha'?”

“Obispo!” You laughed rolling your eyes, lifting up your son between your arms. “Have a good day, mi amorcito”.

“You too, mama. Are you gonna miss me?”

“Of course yes, baby. All the time. But we will pick you up in a couple hours, okay? You just… have fun, make friends and don't forget to eat your lunch”.

“Okay, mama. I love you”.

“I love you too, Manuel”.

“Bye, tíos”. Moving his tiny hand, once he was back to the floor, he ran to his new teacher to come into the school.

“Man… you two do an amazing job, I couldn't”.

“Yeah, Angel. But don't be jealous. You're our baby too”.

But the worst and, at the same time, best day of his life was when he found Manu crying for the first time.

You were standing up close to the door of his room, waiting for Creeper. You had been stalking him for almost thirty minutes, not knowing what to do, but knowing that your husband would know it.

“Hey, mama, what's up?”

“Dunno… He's just… there. Crying”.

“Okay, let's see”. Neron knocked on the door, before coming in, followed by you more worried than ever. It was breaking your heart. “Hey, buddy”.

Your son quickly sat up on his bed, cleaning his tears with the back of his hands and shaking his head. His father dragged the chair over the floor, to sit on and put you on his lap, surrounding your waist with both arms.

“Cariño, you know you can… talk with us about anything, right?” You said carefully, while Creeper placed his chin on your shoulder.

“You will not understand”.

That. That was the sentence that made you understand. Turning to your husband, you smirked at him, before getting up to sit next to your son. And you hug him like never before, kissing his cheek a lot of times until he stopped crying.

“Hey, Manu, listen. We're your parents, and your friends. We will never, ever, judge you. Unless you're gonna tell me you did something bad to an animal”. Creeper's speeches were the best. “Cause you didn't, rai'?”

He shook his head, almost smiling.

“I just… I…” Manu looked at you with his lips trembling, licking them and trying to comfort himself. “I am gay”.

Creeper traveled his gaze from his son towards you, shrugging a little, before sitting by his other side.

“So, what? Anyone told you shit about it?”

“No, no, no… I just… was scared of your reaction”. Bowing his head down, he seems too ashamed.

“I love you more now, than one minute ago. Because you're deciding to live your life as you want. And we're very proud to be your parents, buddy”. Creeper said, pointing his chest, claiming for his attention.

“Yes, baby. And never let anyone tell you what you have to do, or how you have to live your life, you hear me?” You added, while he was raising his head.

“We will always love you, exactly as you are, Manuel. Never forget it, okay?”

Everything has changed since this day. Manu left away all the pain he was feeling because of believing that you wouldn't accept him, to be the most happy boy on earth. He also told it to his tíos, and they had the same reaction. Everyone was proud of him, and supportive to the extreme.

The day that your son told you that he was going to bring his boyfriend for dinner, Creeper was more nervous than you.

“Yo! Mama! Do I look good?” He said turning around so you could see the whole outfit.

“Neron, everyth—”.

Before you could continue talking, you heard the door getting opened and closed, followed by some nervous whispers.

“Oh, shit, they're already here. Okay, mama, keep calm”.

“I'm pretty calmed, papi”. You laughed palming his chest, before going downstairs.

“Hey, mama! This is… Dani”. Your son wasn't expecting you this soon.

“Hi, Dani, welcome home”. You said with a huge and dearly smile on your lips, giving him a warmth hug. “Manu told us a lot about you. It's like if we already meet you”.

“Really? Oh, ah… Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you too”.

“Where's papa…?” He asked somewhat nervously, making you laugh.

“Your father is more edgy than you”. Whispering, you leaned towards them.

“That's not true!” He tried to say, with his voice breaking a little. “What's up, buddy?”

Neron hugged your son tightly, noticing that he seemed as if he was about to cry, before turning to Manu's boyfriend.

“I am… Daniel… Dani”.

“Finally, mate!” Creeper hugged him, palming his back pretty excited. “Yo! Yeah, I'm fuckin' nervous, sorry”.

When you were already sleeping between his arms, after the dinner and a long talk about your family and Dani's family, your husband decided to wake you up at four am.

“Hey, baby… Mama”.

“Fuck, Neron… What the hell do you want?”

“Do you think that Dani likes us?”

“Oh, fuck off, Neron! I was sleeping”.

“Yeah, yeah. But, now that you're not, what do you think?”

“I'm gonna make him don't like you, if you don't let me sleep”.

“Yo! Mama! Why would you do that?” He asked, starting to feel tense and insecure.

“Jesus Christ, papi… He likes us, a lot actually. Dani told me you're pretty cool”.

“Really? Does he think tha'? Damn…”

✨ Tag list:

@starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @jadesamhart @mycupoffanfiction @claytoncardenasbabymama @thesandbeneathmytoes @phoenixhalliwell @thewarriorprincessxo @sugary-x-sweet @multiyfandomgirl40 @imanerdychubbyqueen @iambabyharry @firebenderwolf @itsanofrommesir @noz4a2 @peaches007 @edonaspanca @irenne-stans @skyofficialxx

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #neron creeper vargas x reader #creeper vargas x reader #creeper vargas #creeper

[cadopan]

I just read the conversation about Arsenal and English bias. Gotta say though, I'm not surprised, but I am surprised anyone would question them having a bias like that? Arsenal is an English club first and foremost. It's natural that they are most supportive of the home country. And England is generally more patriotic about football than they are about soldiers LOL. It's also no coincidence that they'd be on the England hype train when Arsenal golden girl Leah is captain of England, and Arsenal's most likely player of the season Beth is scoring hattricks for fun at England as well.

Generally I like Arsenal's social media because i enjoy the admin's humour. This season it's a bit disappointing that we don't get alot of the online quiz content or player challenges like we did last season but it's probably because the girls are so much busier being involved in multiple cups/leagues. (also no Lisa at Arsenal so very little weplaystrong content)

To be fair they did post about Asian Cup stuff but probably not as much as I would have liked particularly beyond the Aussies. Think once Mana was out of the early games for Japan it's like they forgot Japan was still in it or something unfortunately 🤷🏽‍♀️

Oh yeah, for sure. Arsenal's English bias is blatant as day. Largely I have no issues nor do I question the basis of why they're naturally like that, it's fairly obvious as you rightly pointed out.

I just wish they'd be a bit more even and "fair" across the board with the support they show individual players. Like yesterday, Manu, Laura, Viki (I'll count her too even tho she's on loan at Spursy) and Noelle were all playing too — against each other no less! — but not a peep about them. Of course I understand that certain players are more marketable and will drum up interest, but it's just not very nice to see (from my perspective, personally). But I'll stop here bc this could morph into a whole issue about marketing of footballers haha.

Yea, I'm fairly okay with the Arsenal social media too. But like I've said before I can freely admit that some other clubs that I follow do a better job imo. Oh yeah I miss last season's vlogs, the vibe is clearly different without Lisa too 😢 although it's understandable since it's like a whole new era now and I still enjoy them nonetheless.

I was fine that they totally forgot about Mana while she was out with Covid but Japan qualifying for the World Cup or her starting in the semi-final match were pretty significant things... The way this will be so different come the Euros (basically the equivalent of Asian Cup) lol 🤡

#answers #arsenal wfc

[randomnameless]

I am gonna be honest I really don't get how people don't understand Crest have nothing to do with being nobles, it's literaly the whole reason behind Mercedes's and Emile's tragic story, that their father who didn't had a crest wanted to marry Mercedes because she had one like her Mother so his children can inherit the Crest of Lamine.

On a side note, I do think that even if Rhea didn't created the Crest system it would have happened with or without her, Crest are superpowers that are rare and humans either worship like a god or treat as a witch people who have special power, I wouldn't believe for a second that left out as is in nature people who have Crest wouldn't try to rule over the other anyway or wouldn't be treated like aberrations.

Hm...

Mercie's mom had a crest and was a nobody, which could be married off to a bastard : aka, despite her crest, Mercie's mom wasn't a noble who was able to say big F to potential "suitors" who were supposed to be beneath her in status since they had no crest themselves.

Constance (and what's left of her fam?) were demoted to nothing and sent to the sewers in Garreg Mach, even if Constance comes from a prestigious family that got a crest from a Saint.

As you said, regardless of nobility wanting to pretend to have "better blood" than the pleb, Crests are superpowers, which would always be sought afer.

The games does it best to avoid talking about the tangible and objective benefits of having a crest - when we see Dimitri crush a man as easily as a snowball in a cutscene - but imo, it's part of Fodlan's DNA, try to spin a very objective and no-solution conflicts (you have a world with two races, and one has superpowers compared to the other, how does it work?) to artificial lip-service and copious amounts of smokescreens.

For something that was only alluded to but completely ignored because otherwise both Nopes and Houses fall apart - Seteth tells Yuri in their Nopes support how it is rumoured that an Elite was cured from an "incurable" disease after getting a crest...

Admitting this is remotely true to what happened in Zanado, does it justifiy the subsequent massacre and genocide? Dominic might die in 2 days if he doesn't kill a Nabatean, was he "right" or justified in killing the Nabatean who became Crusher and drinking their blood?

If humans are envious for good or bad reasons of the Nabateans' powers, what is going to happen when a Nabatean would refuse to share said power ? Are the humans justified in trying to steal it? Are Nabateans asses when they refuse to "lend it" to humans?

This game tries its hardest to avoid blaming the usual trifecta of human greed/assholishness/lust (for power!) as the reason why the world doesn't go round, and blame everything on... blue eyes, that can somehow shoot lasers too.

Of course someone with in-built lasers would be better seen/more valued than someone who hasn't the same lasers, but bar the milquetoast "we should try to accept everyone!", what is the specific answer to the Gautier border issue - crest means the border is defended, no crest and no plot hax means it isn't - should the defender of the border be the crested kid or the non crested-kid?

Nopes!Sylvains finds a loophole and replies with "we won't need to defend the border if we're not at war with Sreng anymore", and it's a nice solution, honestly. I like it. It makes for a bright perspective, of a future where, if everyone play their part, Crests won't be "needed" anymore.

But when it comes to using the power of a crest to heal, will you go to Manu, who cannot heal someone who has a cancer, or to Flayn, who can, if you suddenly learn you have one?

"Just develop chemiotherapy!"

Yes but I'm dying - who should I go to?

Imo, Crust System is used both in fandom and in-game to avoid mentionning the existence of super humans (or non humans if we want to stay close to Supreme Leader's words) and the inevitable jealousy/envy their existence creates/causes in humans, who cannot help but seek after the power they have.

#anon #replies #i swear i wouldn't have fell in the BC hole as I did for 2 weeks if the story with #'pointy ears able to use magic were slaughtered by envious humans who called them names and stole their magic by killing them' #didn't resonate with Fodlan lol #FE16

[userseokkie]

Met Gala, Stony, 2.3k

In honor of the Met Gala tonight, I whipped up this quick fic. It’s so self indulgent but it’s fluffy and short. No smut, but I might be persuaded to do a follow up. Enjoy!

***

The flashes of the cameras were the first thing Tony could notice even before the limo rounded the corner. The paparazzi were swarming the entire entrance and media vans were parked well down fifth. 

While Happy was busy cursing every poor reporter that dared get in the way and mumbling god knows what, Tony checked his phone one last time, thumbing a quick email before sliding it back in his pocket. He glanced over at Steve. 

“You know, if you’d only let Carla style you-” 

“I’m fine, Tony. What? This is just a gala.” Steve peered out the window, his brow pinching slightly the way it always did when he got nervous.

“Jesus, I already told you, this isn’t just another gala, this is the Met Gala and Anna trusts me to carry this event-” 

“Just say it. Just admit you’re embarrassed by me and that I’m hideous and not worthy of being your date,” Steve said with that deadpan tone he used, and god his jaw could cut through glass. Tony bit his lip unconsciously, trying to get rid of inappropriate thoughts. This outfit was too tight to be getting hard.

Through the honking, Tony shrugged and smiled despite his efforts. “You know you’re the only one who could be my date, stud.” 

Steve’s eyes softened, a glint on his blue eyes as they focused on Tony. 

“I mean, Natasha and Clint are going together, Thor is bringing Jane and I’d have more luck convincing Bruce to smoke up with me than bringing him to one of these things. You were the only one left, obviously.” 

“Tony.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I just don’t see what the big deal is, we go in, we have dinner, we donate some money to keep the museum funded.” 

Tony was about to object to how Steve casually referred to 1.5 million as some money, but their car came to a stop. “We’re here, boss.” Happy announced. 

Steve looked at him once more, an expectant look on his face. “Do I really look bad?” 

The theme for this year was Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology, which, duh. Of course it was important, when Anna had called Tony and asked him to host, it was a no brainer. This was practically made for the Futurist, and the media had gone ballistic when they announced Tony was co-hosting. This entire thing was built on the Mark LVII. Not to toot his own horn, but Tony had really outdone himself with this one. 

Dragging his gaze up and down the super soldier in front of him, it was hard to be objective. But Steve certainly didn’t look bad, he just looked... like himself. The Met Gala was meant to go outside your comfort zone and push the envelope on what fashion meant, if Jan had taught Tony anything, it’s that fashion is for the brave and bold. And he was anything if not ballsy. Steve, however, in his all black suit, head to toe Dior, looked like a devil put on Earth to tempt Tony into unspeakable acts. Did it scream fashion and technology, though? No, it didn’t. 

“Honey bunch, you look like sin incarnate.” Tony slid across his seat, making to get up. He leaned in, grabbing onto Steve’s bicep for support. “And I’ll make sure to let you know just how crazy you are making me with that outfit right after this thing is over.” His whisper made Steve shiver, and when he looked at his face, Tony could laugh at how big Steve’s pupils had become. He counted it as a win. 

He slid his sunglasses on and turned to the door. “But now, it’s showtime.” 

***

The steps in the main entrance were covered in a plush red carpet that felt thicker than some floors, and Steve appreciated the decoration lining up each side. People must have worked real hard for this event. 

“Tony! Tony, over here!”

“Tony, who’re you wearing?” 

The photographers were going nuts over Tony. Steve could swear a woman had fainted in the entrance. 

“This is a Stark original, darling,” Tony drawled, and twirled to let them get a good look.

And boy, was it a sight for sore eyes. 

The celebrities coming in were starting to gather around, some walking slower to let the photographers get a good shot, some talking with the cameras over on the steps. But not a single person had so many people focused on them as Tony. He had worked with those designers real hard, and what they’d come up with was a piece of pure technological genius that managed to look amazing and unreal at the same time. 

Nanotech, Tony had called it. Steve had sit through the entire explanation about the nanotubes and how Tony “would be damned before he let another ant sized fucker get into his suit,” but he’d only use it to design a new Iron Man armor until last year. When he received the news he’d be hosting the Met Gala, Tony had called one of those world famous designers and they’d work on this outfit for seven months. Versace, Steve thinks. 

The result was a nanotech armor that felt like fabric and looked like fabric, with the density of a hair and the resistance of a Falcon 9 spaceship. The suit managed to look slick and bulletproof at the same time, and well, the way it hugged Tony’s ass was reason enough to be here. 

Steve saw Tony’s arm reaching for him, and he walked up to join him in front of the cameras. “Dazzle them, Steve.” Tony grinned at him, and Steve felt his heart grow a little bit. God, he loved this man so much. 

The flashes were getting a bit too overwhelming for Steve, the way they always did, but even he had to admit it felt kinda good to have Tony on his arm and the whole world to see them. He had always admired Tony’s philanthropic nature and his tech genius, and the world needed to admire it too. 

“A kiss, give us a kiss!” 

The guys with the cameras egged them on, and since Tony liked to put on a show so much he figured he could do this for him. Tony looked at him and shrugged slightly, as if saying “it’s your call, Cap.” 

Good thing Steve’s reflects were so fast. He slid his arm behind Tony’s back and with the other one he held his left hand, putting his leg behind Tony’s thighs quickly.

The photographers started dog whistling and cheering when Steve swooped Tony and dipped him into the ground, kissing him softly. 

He felt Tony sighing and his lips parting, and it took all of Steve’s will to keep the kiss short and sweet, instead of doing what he really wanted to do. But he couldn’t resist swiping his tongue over Tony’s plush bottom lip once. 

He parted the kiss, but remained with Tony dipped like a princess for a second. The chocolate eyes he loved melted and blinked up at him. “Woah, you’re pulling out all the tricks tonight, Captain.” Steve felt inner pride swell at Tony’s slightly dazed expression when he said that.  

“Well, I have to make up for my terrible outfit, don’t I?” 

After that, they continued their stroll down the entrance, stopping to talk to reporters and saying hi to some of the other guests. Tony stopped to talk with George Clay? George Crowley? Whoever, he was familiar from that movie they went to see last month. 

“Hey, Steve,” A voice behind him said. “You look awfully ordinary today.”

Natasha came with Clint in tow, as Tony had said. Her red dress reminded Steve of a knight’s chainmail, but he couldn’t tell if it was made from the same material. “Nat, you look like a fairy tale. Where’s the charming prince?”

“Hey, right here.” Clint piped in. Well, he was wearing a suit just like Steve was. Except he had put on a type of metal prosthesis over his arm. Great.

“No, really, where is he?”

“Very funny, Cap,” Clint punched him with his metal arm. “You might wanna stop the banter and make sure someone doesn’t steal your man.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder. 

Steve turned around to see Tony chatting with a different guy from the movie actor. This man was tall and blonde and- well, he looked like a real dickhead if Steve was being honest. But Tony didn’t seem to mind, as he was deeply in conversation telling a very entertaining story, judging by the man’s laugh. 

He shrugged. “I might have to take some measures.” 

Nat smiled at him, knowing he was joking, and pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sure he can fend by himself any potential suitors.” 

“Hey, did you see Thor?” Clint turned his head, cackling. “Holy shit, he’s gonna start summoning thunder soon.” 

And Thor was a few meters behind them in the main photo stand with Jane by his side, the media couldn’t get enough of him. He was swinging Mjolnir around, his cape glistening with the camera flashes. 

“Hey, that’s cheating.” Steve frowned. “He’s just wearing his regular battle outfit.”

“Well, how much fashionably avant garde can you get when you’re an Asgardian god?” Natasha tilted her head. “I think they look cute.”

“Yeah, just wait til he pours a storm over them. One of the paparazzi almost pushes Jane out in the curb.” Clint said. 

Tony appeared right beside Steve, his suit catching the light. “Hey Barton, lost your Robocop helmet back there?” 

“For your information, this is Armani. Not all of us can get a custom made armor suit.” 

“Miss Romanoff,” Tony kissed Nat’s hand. “You look particularly deadly today.”

“Thank you, Shellhead. I was going for that.” 

A reporter asked them to pose for a group photo, and then when Thor joined them they had to go through another eight rounds of posing for every media outlet in existence. Steve was getting a little bit antsy, but luckily the dinner came after this. He could eat. 

The darlings of the night were Tony and Nat, obviously. They posed for some duo photos and Steve had to admit, the sight of the two of them together could probably turn any man or woman, no matter the sexuality. 

Nat’s firey red hair was styled into a short, disheveled bob with bangs reaching her mid forehead. Her dress, now that Steve had seen it properly, was part dress and part chainmail indeed. She looked stunning. 

But Tony, Tony was on a whole new playing field. Right after the announcements and the opening speech, the media asked for some last photographs. Tony humored them and as the crowd rose into applause, he tapped something in the arc reactor (or nano case as he had called it), and the suit transformed right before them.

Steve had seen the way the tubes formed over Tony’s body many times, how it looked almost like a living entity, swallowing Tony, spreading around him to protect him. He must admit, he had been a weak man more than once and dragged Tony right after a debriefing into the nearest closet or conference room and, well. Let’s just say it’s incredibly easy to fuck someone wearing nanotech tubes, as they need to just open up around the right parts. 

And now the crowd was going crazy with it. The suit formed arm gauntlets, and then in the back, something that resembled the flight stabilizers that the armor often had came up, forming a circle of long spikes framing Tony’s head, with an almost regal nature. The suit went from a steel gray to the classic red and gold colors, and Tony smiled. Steve was getting as hyped as the crowd with this, honestly. 

“He’s born for this, it’s ridiculous,” Steve heard Clint say behind him. He thought of other adjectives rather than ridiculous, but whatever. 

***

The dinner was good, but it wasn’t shawarma or some greasy spoon’s cheeseburger. “God, I’m so getting burgers after this,” Tony mumbled, placing the fork and knife over his plate in a cross. 

“Tell Thor that, he just asked for doubles and the head chef had to come and tell him they don’t do ‘doubles’,” Steve chuckled next to him.

Things had been surprisingly well. The exhibition was exquisite, as always. Tony had to go find Anna for the final speech, but things were sailing smoothly. 

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Tony placed his hand over Steve’s on the table, turning to glance at him. “I’ve been so busy mingling and being the MC, I hadn’t checked up with you.” 

Steve smiled at him, nodding. “I get it, don’t worry. You’re the main attraction. I’ve been perfectly alright just sitting back and watching you.” 

Tony definitely did not blush at that. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, it’s easy to just stand back and look pretty when you have the experience.”

Steve put his hand on Tony’s thigh under the table, squeezing slightly. “Yes, it is. But I might have to stop sitting down and be right behind you, like a bodyguard. What with all these men coming after my fella.” 

Tony snorted. “Like a bodyguard, huh? Like Whitney Houston and Costner?”

“Have we seen that one?”

“No, I don’t think you have,” Tony tried to remember. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t end well for them.”

Steve’s hand felt warm and solid even over the nano layer of the suit. 

“But yeah, I might have to step up. I’d hate to cause scene at this fancy event, though.” Steve said, looking at Tony sideways. His smile was charming as ever.

“Captain?” Tony arched an eyebrow. “Are you getting jealous over here?”

Steve lowered his head, looking down at his hand on Tony. “I mean, I can’t blame them. You’re a vision in that outfit tonight.” 

Tony felt himself getting hot under the collar. Steve praising him always did things to him, weird, mushy things, dammit. 

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” Tony peered at Steve through his eyelashes. “Remember what I told you in the car? Cause I’m good on my word, soldier.” 

He enjoyed so much getting Steve riled up in public. His lips parted slightly, his eyes always widened and his jaw started clenching when he tried to control it. Steve never looked more attractive.

“Well, you better sweetheart. Because I have some ideas for this suit of yours.” Steve said quietly, his hand moving higher up Tony’s thigh and squeezing right before taking it away and turning his body, acting like nothing had happened.

Tony almost combusted. Right before he could suggest taking things to the restroom, he heard a voice in the speaker call his name. It was Anna. 

Dammit, time for the closing ceremony. 

Steve chuckled as he made his way up the chair. “You’re so paying for this, Steve,” Tony said, getting up behind him. 

“I sincerely hope I do,” Steve replied, biting his lip. He put his hands on Tony’s shoulders and patted him, a big smile on his face. “Now go get them, tiger.” 

Tony was adding this to the list of Reasons Why Steve Isn’t America’s Boyscout And He Has Everyone Fooled.

#stevetony #fic rec #tony stark #steve rogers #stony fic #stevetonyedit

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Sins of mortals part three

Part one   Part two 

Slytherin!reader x Sirius (eventually)

word count: 2,000 (about) 

warnings: Slow burn, satanic things, vomit, mentions of sex, google translate, blood? I think there’s blood. spicy *spicy* physical contact. okay, I’ll stop now.

Summary: Well, shit has officially hit the fan. your mother has never warned you that things go could this wrong. Honestly, who would have guessed black magic was this hard?  

As you walked down the spiral staircase you lit the torches that lined the narrow hallway. The firelight was comforting and warmed your nearly numb fingers. You talked to yourself as you descended. Running through the checklist you had made, the silence could be maddening. You started humming to yourself, a lullaby that you remembered hearing somewhere. you weren't quite sure where your mother would have died before she sang you to sleep.

The sky is dark and the hills are white, as the storm-king speeds from the north tonight. And this is the song the great king sings, as over the world his cloak he flings. Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep. He rustles his wings and gruffly sings. Sleep, little one, sleep.

You had reached the end of the staircase and found yourself in a wide circular room you moved your wand in a wide arch lighting all of the torches in the room in one go. The firelight gave the room an ominous glow. You crossed to the pile of ingredients and supplies that you had stored off to the side 

On yonder mountain-side a vine clings at the foot of a mother pine. The tress bends over the trembling thing, and only the vine can hear her sing, sleep, sleep, little one sleep. What shall you fear when I am here? Sleep little one sleep.

You funneled out a dark, smelly powder, a mixture of ash, crushed onyx, and sulfur. You carefully drew out a circle with a thick border. Then you took a bowl of wax, melted it, and began drawing a second, smaller circle inside the first with spokes of wax connecting the two circles. At each point where Wax met ash, you placed slender black candles. Next, you used a paste made of green tea and extract of newt, Also not the best smelling, and added small, yet intricate designs inside the space between the two circles. Lastly, you sealed everything with magic.  This step was hardly necessary, it wasn't like the wind could affect anything. Not in this stuffy underground room.

The king may sing in his bitter flight, the tree may croon to the vine tonight, but the little snowflake at my chest likes the song I sing the best. Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep. Beautiful like art, right next to my heart. Sleep, little one sleep.

You're hands shook as you picked up the book, you dropped it almost instantly. It was colder than ever before. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to grab hold of the book and sit with it in your lap. You didn't have to flip to the page you needed. The book seemed to open it's self to the correct spot for you. 

You closed your eyes and steadied your nerves. You lit the candles and extinguished the torches. The little flame that each candle held wasn't enough to read by, but it hardly mattered, you knew the words by heart. “calm down,” you said to yourself  “She wouldn't be making you do this if it was unsafe,” but this whole situation was terribly unsafe “if she didn't think you could do it,” you corrected.  You couldn't think of anything else to cam yourself. Or another way to put it off. You closed your eyes and began the chant.

If you could have seen the room you would have been greeted by a terrifying sight. The ask changed colors, from black to snow white. The flames from the candles climbed higher and higher until the red light was licking the stone ceiling. The wax melted was boiling, hot bubbles of wax popped with loud snapping noises. And If you could have seen yourself you would have seen that you were no longer sat on the cold marble floor, instead you were floating about a foot of the ground. Your hair and the loose bits of your clothing where floating detached from the laws of gravity.

The power felt good as it coursed through your veins, it filled you like fresh air in your lungs. The spell heated your blood pleasantly it almost took the cold away from your legs, where the book sat. that was the trouble with dark magic, it felt so good to use, but you knew that the second the spell was done you would be aching and exhausted. Your hand was clenched tightly around the last two items, you wondered if you should use them now, you waited a few more moments. Enough to run through the chant two more times.

Voco super te sulphuris terræ, et genus acre luporum atque peccatum quo affliguntur damnati, et maledictæ reliquiæ. Bestia ex ore exíbit gládius acútus vocare bestias, aut pulsu cordis, bellum tympani pulsatio. Te cum tenebris magicae nigrae. Invocantem agetis

Merlin, you hated Latin. But it seemed like all dark magic spells were in Latin. Your mother spoke it fluently. But she was the world's leading dark witch, you supposed it was to be expected.  She didn't exactly go around shouting the fact she was a dark witch. It wasn't good practice to brag about things that could get you sent to Azkaban. Your mother's reputation was one of the reasons you ended up here, in a secret room summoning a demon.

She started teaching you magic at a young age so you could help her with studies, in other words, do her dirty work. You remembered when you were six sitting on your mother's lap as she enchanted pins and needles turning them into poisoned darts.

There was a gasping sound, the demon being brought into the seal. You unclenched your fist letting the two silver rings float into the air, you moved on to the second half of the chant. Cum hac manu tua i control motibus proportionem servent. Calicem vacuum non enim erit vinum. In hac lucerna ego lux in tenebris viam vestram. Hoc annulo te mei erunt.

If your eyes were open you would have seen one of the silver rings fit itself on your hand while the other flew into the seal into the blinding light in the center of the small circle.  Suddenly the warm powerful feeling seeped from your body, you felt yourself crash to the floor. It couldn't have been more than a two-foot fall but it still hurt. The floor beneath you seemed to be spinning. You were seeing double and you felt like passing out but first, you needed to see if you actually had done it or if you had just wasted a lot of time and resources.

When you looked at the seal you didn't believe your eyes. Sat in the center of the floor, looking dazed and hurt was Sirius Black. “I'm hallucinating, that's not good,” you muttered. Sirius locked eyes with you the same confusion in his eyes. 

it was only when he started yelling did you realize he was real, demons couldn’t speak in human tounges. You quickly started shouting back but you couldn’t make out any words he was saying because of the ring in your ears. Suddenly he froze also making you pause

“your nose is bleeding,” he said softly, you brought your finger to your upper lip, sure enough, it was slick with blood.

“Dark magic will do that to you,” you said teasingly whipping at the blood

“so you were doing dark magic?” he asked, you bit your lip and nodded.

“and are you really a demon? from hell?” you asked. Your head felt was submerged in. something. you were to out of it for metaphors. 

“Liverpool actually,” you sneered at him, how could he be joking at a time like this.

“can't you take anything seriously you git-”

“I take everything Siriusly,”

“I'm going to break your jaw you-”

“okay relax love, why don't you break this seal and we can talk,” he said pointing at the floor.

“No,” you said instantly.

“why not?”

“you could hurt me,”

“I've never hurt you before!”

“I never knew you where a demon before,”

“First of all half demon, second of all relationships are built on trust, trust that I won't hurt you,” he growled. You rubbed the ring, the foreign weight bothered you. As long as he was bounded to you, he couldn't hurt you, right? You tried to stand but it made you too dizzy, you crawled over to the powder circle. And broke it with a quick swipe fo your finger, smudging the now white powder onto the floor. Sirius crawled out and looked at you concerned.  “you need to lye down, you look like you're about to pass out love,” he crooned. You waved away his hands.

“I'm fine I just need a nap, but more importantly-” your eyes went wide “my mother is going to kill me,” you scrambled to your feet grabbing the wall for support.

“wow slow down babe, you're gonna get yourself hurt,”  he said holding you in his arms making sure you didn't fall. Gratefully you held on to his shoulders.

“gotta write to her, Fuck she is going to kill me,” you slurred.

“what's going on with your mom?” he asked. “she put you up to this?” you nodded, which was a mistake it only made you even dizzier. Sirius was pretty much the only thing keeping you standing at this point. You wondered how mad he would be if you threw up on him.

“she needed me to summon a demon for her then she could run.. tests on it I guess,”

you had never really bothered to ask why she wanted a demon.

“you are going to let your mum run tests on me?” he asked shocked, and a little bit hurt,

“won't work on a half-demon I don't think. But I don't think I can let her hurt you, now that where bonded.” you forced the rising bile down your throat.

“Bonded?” Sirius asked disbelievingly. His grip on you slacked, your knees buckled and you began to fall. Before you could hit the floor, again. Sirius caught you and gently helped you into a sitting position his eyes flicked to your hand and then his own, noticing the rings for the first time.

“you really fucking bonded me you idiot,” he whispered.

“It's a simple reversal spell, which I could do right now,” you snapped back. you hoped he didn’t call your bluff, you did know the reversal spell but the amount of energy it would take might just kill you. 

“I'm not your run of the mill half demon. My father was an incubus, you know Demons of lust.” he said it like it was important but you didn’t make the connection. 

 “Honestly woman did that spell cost you half your brain? the only way to break a bond with an incubus is to have sex with them,” he said slowly like he was trying to stop himself from getting angry. You looked away from Sirius's perfect green eyes, and vomited.  

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#Sirius Black #sirius black smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader smut #Harry Potter #the marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x you

[invokingbees]

how do i cast spell??

The post about magic in Dark Souls nobody asked for but I'm sure two or three people will read.

Been thinking a lot about magic in Dark Souls and how it's never really given more than some passing references. I bothered fellow lore-fiend @thetygre​ about it. But the question keeps me awake at night, so after doing some research and asking some questions, here I go. This is a long ass post.

First, we need to understand the First Flame. I've been told a better translation for it is something like 'Foremost Flame', same way Micolash's title in Bloodborne, Host of the Nightmare, is more akin to 'Manager of the Nightmare'. The Flame is where all souls come from, and according to one person I talked to, it can likened to, essentially, a massive burning lump of souls, or animating force, or funky primordial force. This isn't too strange, because soul items themselves resemble little flames, with stronger souls resembling flames more and more. So, the Flame is THE soul, and we know souls can be broken up and split and passed around, just like fire can be spread. This where the Lords and the Pygmy got their souls, right at the beginning when everything was fresh and weird, they split bits of the Flame (or got lit on fire or something) and took on the roles of gods when the big shit was just there for the taking. The other souls, like the consumable soul items we find, are essentially an animating force, something that seeped into the world of disparity when the Flame happened. The Lord souls are just bigger bits of animating force, as they animate parts of disparate reality - the state of the world (light and dark) and the state of things within that world (life and death).

So, Sorcery. Sorcery is a 'logical discipline', and is governed by one's intelligence, one's understanding of the soul and how it works. It was invented by Seath the Scaleless, a massive fuck up loser dragon looking to make itself immortal by messing about with souls. Sorcery life energy magic in a raw form, used, mainly, to create physical constructs, like your blue pew pews. By the use of a catalyst (an interesting word that implies some object must be used to draw, shape or disperse soul energy or change it into a usable form) sorcerers can shoot lasers, create hovering tracking projectiles, they can also create silent pads on their feet to sneak or absorb the impact of a long fall, they can coat weapons and shields in it to empower them, they can also make massive swords out of the stuff, too. The Oolacile sorcerers had created 'golden sorceries' with a more utilitarian bent, a far cry from the offensive Vinheim/Melfian (haha fuck you I like Dark Souls 2!) style sorcery, that seemed to work with light. Now, in Dark Souls, light is said to be time, so they had some sort of weird time magic. But light is also the purview of Gwyn, BUT he also handed bits of his soul to a lot of people, so it's possible they used some shard of his to understand the soul as a flame with a light (items do cast a radiance, but this is videogames). In truth, I believe the golden sorceries of Oolacile are basically intelligence-based miracles, their golden hue is closer to the colour scheme of miracles and their time/light deal must hold some connection to Gwyn. Souls ultimately share the same source, though, and Oolacile was a wizard city that messed with Manus the primeval human that ended up creating the Abyss, so they were likely up to shenanigans anyway, despite their golden sorceries being 'gentle'.

Now, so far it seems as if sorcery is performed by shaping one's own soul, or channeling the energy of one's soul, into various bizarre projectiles, but this isn't really it. Several spells in the game mention that their projectiles are made of souls. The Soul Greatsword is a giant blade 'formed of souls'. Plural. So, it doesn't seem to be one's own soul that goes into creating a sorcery, sorceries are fueled (mostly, at least) by exterior forces. Or perhaps, living sorcerers, meaning those that aren't soul-consuming undead, do use their own souls but aren't capable of much casting lest they just kill themselves from overuse. But of course Vinheim is also a literal assassin corporation, and being in the death trade, may very well have much access to the souls of the dead. Undead sorcerers, we can assume, are capable of using the souls they absorb to cast spells. The undead scourge has been around for a long enough time that undead sorcerers likely popped up in Vinheim and they started experimenting. So, in conclusion, sorcery as a practice is the drawing, formation and release of actual souls, sometimes crystallized, into semi-physical constructs as either projectiles or coatings.

Next, we come to Miracles. Miracles are tales of the gods (read: Gwyn and his brood of shits) repeated by believers who, by sheer power of faith, can reproduce their effects, they also require a talisman or chime, likely as a focus, or indeed, a potential catalyst. Put simply, miracles are a type of sorcery under a different guise or avenue, drawing upon that common source of the soul as a flame. Considering the gods of Lordran are long gone or dead, it would be difficult to draw upon their power, and how one might draw upon their power doesn't really make sense unless you go down some Ringed City seal of fire thing, but there's not much to support it. However, there is evidence to support miracles drawing off the same power source as sorcery - there's a number of items in the game that allow users to channel their intelligence for miracles. This implies a kind of theurgic deal, a perhaps heretical understanding of the 'the divine' in the world. Furthermore, there's even a tool for channeling faith for sorcery! As for how the Way of White, Dark Souls' de facto church faction, are able to cast their miracles, I imagine it being similar to how Vinheim learned to cast theirs, through bits of their own soul energy, but the Way of White are also quite famous for their undead hunts, and it isn't too crazy to think they weren't experimenting with extraneous fuel sources, either. One last note about miracles is their rigid structure. Miracles are set spells, tales of the gods that come in the form of excerpts and full blown epics, memorized for ease of casting. However, unlike the more fluid school of Sorcery, open to experimentation and innovation, miracles pretty much stay the same through time, with few new ones ever really coming to light. This is the big divide between the practices. In a nutshell, miracles are user friendly “sorceries”, highly specific 'spells' handed down by the powerful Lords to whom this was nature.

Lastly, we have Pyromancy. The weird one. I think Pyromancy is the odd one out. What a Pyromancy flame actually is, is never gone in to. It's been my belief that it was a piece of the Chaos Flame, the Flame created when the Witch of Izalith tried re-creating the First Flame with her soul, the Life Soul, but accidentally spawned a whole race of malformed demons. Pyromancy is like a more raw, primal form of life magic, but completely unlike Sorcery's more scientific approach to the energy within souls. Pyromancy hails from the Great Swamp, a place utterly teeming with life, and in Dark Souls 3 it's mentioned that pyromancers wear furs and bones and things due to the link pyromancy has with life. Cornyx, the pyromancy teacher in 3, surrounds his little corner of Firelink with bones and things.

Pyromancy is the result of a mistake and a continuous reminder of the danger of flame and the power of souls. Chaos is to Flame/Light (same shit) what the Abyss is to Dark, wild and monstrous, an unnatural extreme. Pyromancy has a bunch of weird effects from throwing fireballs to giving you a Dragonball-esque Kaioken technique to boost your power beyond its natural limits, literally harming you in the process. Being a little bit of Life Soul, or Chaos Flame, naturally it would have such life-altering (rather than purely physical) properties. It should be noted there once was Fire Sorcery, practiced by the Witch of Izalith and her daughters before the Big Accident happened and it all got perverted into dangerous Pyromancy. Indeed, Seath the Scaleless' experiments into immortality that resulted in Sorcery my have been inspired by the Life Soul Fire Sorcery of Izalith. But what fuels Pyromancy? Surely it's the Life Soul shard in your hand, a seething little ball of life - and not just the generic animating force of souls, skeletons have souls animating them, but capital L Life. I think Pyromancy has a somewhat shamanistic or trance-like angle. Before casting, the pyromancer always looks to their flame, as if in contemplation of what they're trying to achieve. Pyromancy flames are also said to be apart of yourself, and when Laurentius in 1 gives you a flame, he says he's giving himself a part of you. Pyromancy is personal, passionate, visceral, it's very Life-y. Casting appears to be using the flame as an extension of yourself. So what keeps the flame burning? It's an extension of your life, your soul, perhaps it really is just that nebulous. Perhaps it is drawing off your life, or the life around you. In the Great Swamp this wouldn't be a problem, but it makes me wonder how exactly the Desert Pyromancers or the Carthus skeleton funtown fellas had such powerful Pyromancies.

It should be noted that by the time of Dark Souls 3, the Chaos Flame has actually died, the demons still roaming about being little more than clumps of ash, with no fire of their own. Apparently they also had their own tradition of linking the Chaos Flame like humanity/the lords had with the First Flame. I'm not sure what repurcussions this has for the practice of Pyromancy. Pyromancy flames may very well be fueled or linked to their users or surroundings to keep going. Pyromancy may very well die out once the soul/energy it burns is also gone. In Dark Souls 1, pyromancy didn't scale with any stats, you just upgraded the flame with titanite (go figure). But in Dark Souls 2 and 3, pyromancies scaled with intelligence and faith, and in 2 fire seeds were used to upgrade the flame. I have to wonder if the slow death of the Chaos Flame didn't contribute to the need for extensive study of pyromancy flames to get them to work.

Lastly, of course, there are Dark sorceries, miracles, and pyromancies. This is the really truly weird shit. Dark sorceries and miracles more or less make sense. Instead of taking the usual animating force route, you delve right into the power of the Dark Soul, the soul with the ability to propagate and spread, the seething, living soul of man that seeks things out (normal sorcery does too, but this is usually an applied property, Dark sorceries just do it) because it's creepy and weird, it's envious or just wants to hug you. You take bits of Dark and let it out in all its over-enthusiastic power. Too much Dark, concentrated, is bad, we know this, so we weaponize it into violent, heavy projectiles, poisonous fogs or corpse-violating bombs. Then there's Dark miracles, but what they could be tales of, who knows. In 3, the Londor Braille Tome promises salvation for hollows, and the Deep Braille Tome is tales about the Deep, when it was gentle and sacred. Then there's Dark pyromancies, and frankly I just have no idea how that even works. In Dark Souls 2 there was a Dark Pyromancy Flame that got stronger the more hollowed you were. Do we use the pyromancy flame, a piece of Life Soul, to channel the Dark Soul? Is it something to do with the shadow cast by fire? No one knows, not even Miyazaki.

There’s also Hexes from Dark Souls 2, its own school of Dark-based magic that required the use of either a staff or a chime and scaled with intelligence and faith, or rather, scaled with the lesser of the two stats. Dunno what that’s about.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk!

[mystery-deer]

Insights

“I just don’t know what Diaz sees in him.” Kevin looked up at his husband, who had spoke from his position sitting on the couch in their living room. They hadn’t spoken since their welcome home greeting an hour ago.

“I’m sorry?” “Diaz.” “What she sees in whom?” “Oh. Detective Pimento.” Kevin bookmarks the chapter he was reading and sets his book on the coffee table. “The lunatic?” “Yes. For some reason Diaz is positively enamored with him- I apologize is this too close to shop talk?” “It’s more like idle gossip.” “Oh God.”

Kevin smiled slightly at his horrified expression and stood. He took note of the sun setting, bathing their living room in a dim glow that would quickly fade. The lights needed to be turned on soon. He stood behind his husband and places his hands on his shoulders, massaging them. He hummed softly as Raymond leaned back. “I believe I can understand her a bit.” “You can?” Asked Raymond incredulously. “A young man with drive, passion.” His voice lowered an octave as he worked through a knot in Raymond’s shoulder, he hissed and then deflated pleasantly under his fingers. “It’s a compliment, to be…cherished. By a man like that.” Raymond bent his head back to look at him and seizing the opportunity they kissed. It was a bit awkward but not unpleasantly, Kevin felt a smile on his lips which coaxed out his own. He felt warm at the sight of Raymond in the waning light. “Do you have any other...insights?” Kevin made an idle noise before moving back around to the front of the couch and sitting next to Raymond, so close their legs touched. Playful, teasing. “Yes.” he breathed as he felt a hand rest on his thigh. “The feeling of being wanted, even needed in some way by a man like that can be intoxicating. To have all his light, all his focus, all his energy devoted towards you.” he tilts his head slightly, catching his husband’s eye. “There’s nothing else like it.” They looked at and into each other for a moment longer before Kevin stood to turn on the lights only to be impeded by a hand on his wrist. Then on his chest. Raymond kissed him again, the two of them swaddled in darkness, his husband pinned to the couch by his hand. “I have some insights of my own.” “Do you?” in the light’s gentle absence Raymond heard a smile. Nothing would ever be dark enough to prevent him from admiring that. “Yes.” He ran his hand down Kevin’s chest and stopped at his navel. Felt the familiar indent of a belly button. “I think I understand where you’re coming from.” “Mm?” “Though I am sure the feeling you describe cannot compare to being looked upon in love by a m- person. That has spent their life building up walls, uncompromising and at first intimidating. Then the relief at being allowed to climb them, to dismantle them brick by brick. Until they are less of an obstacle and more of a puzzle, and then, a fortress.” He trailed kisses up Kevin’s neck and whispered into his ear. “And one day you realize they are no longer shutting you out, but keeping you...protected inside. It is the most wonderful feeling in the world, to be trusted by such a cautious individual.” Kevin wrapped his arms around Raymond and leaned up to kiss him once again.

“You have such a way with words.” His half-whispered, nose bumping against his husband’s in a way they found annoying and endearing respectively. “I love you Raymond Holt. In perpetuum et unum diem.” Raymond smiled, feeling himself warm.

“Manus in mano.” He moved to kiss the love of his life once again but found his lips hit the fabric of their couch, sending both of them into soft chuckles. “We should turn on the lights.” He said, at the same time Kevin suggested, “We should go to bed.”

“To bed?” He went to check his watch, quickly finding this impossible. “We haven’t even eaten dinner yet. It can’t be more than eight o’clock.” “No of course, I meant we should move this upstairs. This couch doesn’t have nearly enough lumbar support.” “Oh….Oh~? Kevin!” He felt a hand in his, guiding him smoothly around obstacles in the darkened room and he followed without hesitation. He trusted this man to lead him through anything, he knew with certainty that they’d safely make it out of their living room, up the stairs and to their bedroom. And there…

A thousand images flashed behind his eyes of Kevin over the years. Pinned down, held up, backgrounds changing and face aging but still the same smile. The same love. The same- “Raymond?” He looked up, he’d paused outside their bedroom door and Kevin had shooed Cheddar out of the room and was now looking at him in amusement. “Are you alright?”

Yes.

#fluff #kevin cozner #raymond holt #raymond holt/kevin cozner #holt/kevin #my fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing #kevin flirts a bunch should be the title #this probably makes no sense but oh well #b99 #b99 fanfic #b99 fanfiction

[kiruuuuu]

Glaz/Echo oneshot in which they go out together and eat sushi. Simple enough, right? (Rating T, fluff/humour, ~3.7k words) - thank you @magehir​ for the prompt and for generally fuelling any kind of insanity 💜💜

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“You”, Echo says with pathos while indicating the delicacies laid out in front of them with a grandiose gesture, “are about to have a religious experience.” It could be a painting with how pretty they’re laid down, a speck of colour here, a rich, warm stripe there; a still life mostly kept dark and white, simplistic, tasteful, exquisite. All it needs is a drop of grass green, a touch of a full, earthy colour, and it’s perfect. “You’re going to ascend. Before this, your life was woefully lacking and now it’s about to send you into another dimension of flavour, you’ll taste things you’ve never tasted before. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Next to him, Glaz is following his praise with a raised eyebrow, both amused and sceptical. “It’s just fish and rice”, he states, missing the point so spectacularly Echo is amazed they’re even in the same room when clearly, they must be talking to different people. Because he did not just say that.

“There are a few things I need to tell you before you even touch any of this and if you try to regardless, I’m going to taser you, so be patient.”

“I am very patient”, Glaz replies calmly and as much as Echo might want to convince himself his boyfriend needs to sit on his hands to hold back on devouring the whole platter all by himself, he has to admit that the Russian is indeed nothing but composed. He can’t even successfully weave this into his own narrative because trying to portray it as negative would earn him nothing but a snort and a slight shake of the head which he’d very much deserve. Oh would he ever. Especially after all the patience Glaz has shown him in the unsteady months leading up to their tentative relationship, and even more so afterwards – were Echo religious, he’d call him a saint.

“I’d hope so as I actually have one with me. Since you’re about as adept with chopsticks as a monkey is with a typewriter – implying that potentially, eventually, you’d get something into your mouth but it might take several generations –, you should -”

“Wait, are you for real? You brought a taser?”

Rolling his eyes at the interruption, Echo affirms: “Yes, Manu asked me to take a closer look because she might want a similar version for her drone. Moving on: you can use your hands, that’s how it’s eaten traditionally, and if people stare, just ignore them.”

“When I tell you the same thing while we’re holding hands, you complain.”

Somehow, Echo is beginning to think Glaz is getting tired of his lengthy introduction. “Listen”, he hisses, “that’s two completely different things. This is sacred, alright? No one can tell you how to eat sushi properly, don’t let anyone interfere when you’re sitting down and enjoying some. Unless you’re doing it wrong. Then it’s your own fault.”

“Sweetheart -”

“Don’t call me that.” A quick glance around the room assures Echo that no one is paying attention to them, fortunately. Even now, he’s still paranoid about anyone coming to the wrong conclusion – or maybe it’d be the right conclusion, because they are together, aren’t they? They kiss behind closed doors and spend more nights in each other’s company than not, but it’s different. Isn’t it? Two men, it’s just -

“I’m really hungry. Just tell me what to eat and how.”

Echo snaps out of his brief internal crisis to remind himself that he’s about to introduce a person very dear to his heart to one of his most important passions. “These are called Nigiri and you should dip them fish side down in the soy sauce, just lightly so the rice never touches it, and then you eat them whole. If you bite them off or drench the rice in sauce, you’ll bring dishonour over your entire family.”

“Don’t worry, they support my decisions”, Glaz responds good-naturedly and reaches for a salmon Nigiri, only to pause and sigh when Echo catches his wrist to teach him about which kind of fish to eat first. Was he raised in a barn? “Do I need to visit the kitchen and thank the chef personally for preparing such a beautiful meal for me before I’m worthy enough to even look at it?”

“What? Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.” Echo considers the suggestion for a moment. “Then again, you could -”

Glaz shoots him a look which expresses just how done he is and quickly snags the salmon with his other hand, almost drops it in the soy sauce and pops it into his mouth before Echo can stop him. How very dare he, salmon tastes too strong, now the others – like butterfish – will pale against it and probably not appeal to Glaz as much as they might have had he started out with them, he really has no idea what he’s doing which Echo supposes should be alright as Glaz has never had sushi before, and yet he could’ve listened and that’s when the Russian makes a gagging noise.

And what the fuck.

What the actual, everloving fuck.

“Oh no”, Glaz murmurs around a mouthful of literal ambrosia, grimacing and paradoxically looking like he’s not enjoying himself which is utterly impossible. Only when he downs half his water to apparently wash the taste from his tongue (and who would ever do that?), it dawns on Echo that he’s being serious. And as if he couldn’t be affronted enough, his boyfriend adds a croaked: “This… is disgusting.”

Echo blinks, uncomprehending. “You’re joking, right?”

He has to be. There’s no other way. No one would voluntarily turn down the nectar of the Gods, except for Glaz it looks like, since he’s still making a face and regarding the rest of the sushi warily. “How can you eat this? The fish is cold and still raw, aren’t you going to get sick from this?”

It makes no sense. Scowling up a storm, Echo picks up one of the salmon pieces himself and eats it – maybe the restaurant doesn’t live up to its ratings, but no, it’s delicious. The fish-rice ratio obviously isn’t as generous as in his home country, and the rice isn’t quite the same, but at its core it’s correct and tasty and why doesn’t he like it. “You’re obviously doing it wrong”, he announces, still taken aback.

“Well, I did what you told me and it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever put in my mouth, so that doesn’t really make it my fault.”

“Yes. It absolutely does, there must be something wrong with you. Don’t you Russians eat a lot of fish? How can you dislike this?”

“To be quite honest, I don’t see how you can like this, but go ahead, eat it all and we’ll stop by a chip shop on the way back so I can get something for myself.”

“A chip -” Echo almost chokes on the words. “That’s what you want to have instead? Instead of the pinnacle of haute cuisine worldwide?!”

“I don’t like it, so yes, I’d rather have something else.”

“You haven’t even… You know what, try another piece. Here, this is tuna. Everyone likes tuna. You like tuna, I know as much, so eat it. Maybe put a little wasabi on it.”

Glaz looks at him in exasperation, but it says a lot (and a lot of very positive things about him) that he reaches out nonetheless, just to appease Echo. Sometimes it worries him, the lengths to which Glaz will go to make him happy; it worries him because he’s not sure he won’t keep demanding more. “Wait, wasabi is hot, isn’t it?” As soon as Echo nods, the Russian basically slathers the piece he’s holding in the green paste, probably under the assumption that since he enjoys hot and spicy dishes and doesn’t even shy away from Blitz’ curry, he’ll be alright.

Echo doesn’t get a chance to warn him that chilli and horseradish tolerance are two completely different things because Glaz can be fast when he wants to be, and so he’s merely left to powerlessly (and maybe a tad spitefully) watch as his boyfriend’s eyes widen in disbelief after having gotten a proper taste.

“This”, he gasps and once again reaches for his glass, “is still awful and now my mouth is on fire. Why is my mouth on fire? Masaru, are you trying to kill me?”

“You’ll never get sick from properly prepared sushi, and you only have yourself to blame if you take this much wasabi. I told you it’s hot.”

“Holy crap, I’m dying, give me your wine.” Echo barely gets to open his mouth before Glaz has snatched the aforementioned drink from his side of the table and poured it down his gullet. By now, a few people around them have noticed Glaz’ predicament and glance at them now and then, making Echo’s cheeks redden. Why can’t he just -

“You’re causing a commotion”, he says quietly and is met with a wild look.

“You’re a commotion, I’m still… ow, it hurts. How can you eat any of this?”

“Quietly and more elegantly than you are right now.”

For some reason, Glaz seems to have had enough now and his tone of voice shifts from the one he usually uses for playful banter or mock indignation to genuine irritation. “I just don’t like it, accept it. I’m not going to apologise for what I like or don’t like, this is just – it’s almost slimy in my mouth, and it’s raw on top of that!”

“These kinds of things don’t normally bother you”, Echo shoots back, annoyed as well now. Glaz stares at him, incredulous over the comment, and he feels more blood rush to his face. They’ve both gotten worryingly loud by now, garnering even more attention and it makes him horribly uncomfortable to feel eyes in his back, to know that people are wondering about what’s going on; it turns him prickly and sharpens his words. “It’s an acquired taste, I should’ve figured you’re not ready to appreciate it yet with all that junk you normally eat.”

“You’re usually right there with me, so don’t pretend you’re any better.”

“This is just typical, you never show any respect for my culture.”

“I show no – Masaru, you asked me whether I had electricity growing up!”

“You made no move to learn any Japanese so far.”

“The only word you asked me to teach you in Russian was an equivalent to Yokai so you could go around and wax on about how much you love your stupid drone without anyone realising.”

“Did you just call Yokai stupid?”

“I did, and I’m also calling sushi revolting.”

Momentary outrage makes any retort impossible for Echo, so instead he just gapes at the other man like… well, like a fish out of water. They have their fair share of arguments, some of them valid, constructive and actually useful, some of them none of these things, but Glaz always makes a point out of never hurting or insulting him intentionally. He refrains from saying things out of anger no matter how upset he is and rather withdraws than to resort to name calling, so him going against this really quite important principle signifies that Echo has overstepped a line.

Well. He’s not above doing the same. “And you are a heathen and a philistine who is too blind to appreciate the good things in life.”

“Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, you are, too?”

And when Echo doesn’t respond, Glaz simply gets up and leaves, stalks out of the restaurant and leaves him staring after him.

.

Echo only calls after having drummed sufficiently on his steering wheel with his fingers, then counting until ten red cars have passed him by, and then some. Since he’s parked not directly in front of the restaurant, he felt safe staying for a while until his guilty conscience won and his hands navigated to someone in his contact list by themselves.

Though she sounds busy, Hibana picks up on the second ring. “Hey, what’s up? How’d your date go?”

“It wasn’t a date”, he blurts out without thinking, disregarding the fact that Hibana knows and probably knew before he himself did.

“Right. So how did your date go, you pure ray of sunshine?”

“That’s why I’m calling.”

“Uh-oh.” Some rustling, and then the noise level on her end drops considerably – she must’ve moved to a more private spot. “Don’t tell me you had another fight?”

“Well. He hated the sushi.” Silence. His friend quite obviously expects him to add something, anything else, but he feels he’s said quite enough.

“… and?”

“He hated it. He called it disgusting. I’ve never been so insulted in my life.”

“You’re telling me you fought because he didn’t like sushi?”

He scoffs. “Wouldn’t you have?”

Hibana allows for a brief grace period during which she quite obviously waits for him to admit to his gaffe, but when he doesn’t, she starts yelling.

.

Mute’s expectant expression turns appallingly smug as soon as he realises for whom he just opened the apartment door. His smirk is so self-satisfied Echo is this close to telling him not to bother, he’ll come back later, preferably when Glaz’ flatmates aren’t home. Or maybe just Mute – for some reason, the Brit watches him like a hawk whenever they interact. “What a pleasant surprise”, Mute announces, crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe in an obvious gesture of denying Echo entry without explicitly stating so. “How come you’re gracing us with your presence?”

“I want to speak to Glaz.”

Even slouched like this, Mute is infuriatingly still a tad taller than him and doesn’t look like he’s moving any time soon. “I bet you do. But what if he doesn’t want to speak to you and asked me to get rid of you if you showed up?”

Panic settles low in Echo’s stomach though he does his best not to show it. It’s going to be fine, they’ve had tiffs like this before and though it never turned out this way with anything as trivial as this (and doesn’t that indicate there’s a different underlying problem behind their disagreement, unsolved trouble neither of them have openly addressed yet) – so it’ll be fine. Right? Glaz still likes him enough to stay with him, but maybe he should apologise still. Just to be safe.

“Then… I’d ask you to convince him to hear me out anyway.”

“Sounds like you have something important to tell him.”

Echo falters. He supposes he does, or rather: there are entirely too many things he probably needs to tell Glaz yet not all of them fit into this context, almost none, in fact, so he’s not sure he’ll go through with it. Still, he nods wordlessly which makes Mute thaw considerably and finally step away to allow him in. “He’s in the living room. Don’t be a twat.”

The glare he sends the Brit only garners a meaningful if sarcastic smile indicating the warning is more than warranted in his eyes, and worst of all, Mute follows him when he steps inside the central room connecting their individual bedrooms. Smoke is half draped over an upset-looking Glaz and spreads out over Mute’s legs as well once he joins them, and Rook, despite seeming cosy all curled up in his armchair, changes his expression to something carefully neutral when Echo enters the room. They’re all staring at him as if he just kicked a puppy, which to be fair -

“Can I… talk to you alone?”, he addresses his boyfriend without much hope for success. The undivided attention he’s getting is leaving him flustered and wondering whether it really was such a good idea to come here – even if Hibana had been awfully blunt about it earlier.

Three pairs of eyes slide back to the flickering TV screen yet the volume is so low there’s no doubt they’re listening anyway. “I’d rather we talk here”, Glaz tells him earnestly. “Or else no one’s going to believe me afterwards.”

Alright. Fair enough. Echo knows how important Glaz’ friends are to him, has learnt it the hard way after he’d dropped a few remarks about the inefficiency as well as idiocy of some of Rook’s work routines (really, if he didn’t spend at least an hour talking to people each day he’d be home so much earlier) and Glaz refused to take his side, even defended the Frenchman. So he wants to spread his love life out before them too. Okay. Echo is… not at all prepared for this but he’ll make it work. “Fine. I just thought you might want to hear what I came to say privately.”

“You might as well practise saying it in the presence of other people, right?” Glaz is not budging and his tone of voice makes it crystal clear he feels it’s more than justified. He seems intent on humiliating Echo, or at least that’s what it seems like to him – never before has he…

“So you know why I’m here?”, he tries buying himself some more time. He thought Glaz would receive him with less anger in his demeanour but if that’s how it is, he’s going to make it count. He’s not going to back away like a coward.

“Of course I know. You came here to tell me one thing and quite frankly, it’s long overdue.”

Is it? Echo frowns but nods reluctantly. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Yes. So go ahead and tell me for the first time since we’ve known each other.”

He’s fidgeting though he’s trying not to, attempting to ignore the others who pointedly don’t look in his direction and manages to focus mostly on Glaz’ expectant face. Over months, he’s been a reliable friend and more, became a soothing warmth beside him not only when they sleep but also in daily life. If he’s going to say it to anyone in his life, it’ll be him and it doesn’t matter that his friends will hear and that it’s awkward and embarrassing because Glaz is worth it nonetheless.

And so he looks him in the eyes and says: “I love you.”

Four people freeze for a moment before turning to gape at him, aghast, with Glaz being the most aghast one of them all, and Echo has no idea what’s going on – especially not when Smoke starts laughing, Rook beams at him happily, Mute nods in a ‘not bad’ gesture and Glaz turns crimson.

“That’s not – Masaru, what the hell -” Thoroughly flustered, the Russian fights his way off the couch only to grab his wrist and drag him into his room, accompanied by excited whispering behind them.

By now, Echo is wholly confused. Did he do something wrong? Was he not supposed to…? He doesn’t get a chance to ask, however, as Glaz immediately slams the door shut, then Echo against it and finally himself against Echo to apparently try and shove his tongue down his throat and oh.

Maybe he didn’t do anything wrong after all.

Sometimes, Glaz’ passion intimidates him just like his devotion does; it’s easy to get caught up in it and lose himself yet right now he has no objections. One of his hands finds its way to Glaz’ dark hair and the other snakes around his torso while they kiss like they’re drowning and when they eventually separate again, they’re both breathless. “Does that mean -”

“Yes”, Glaz interrupts him quietly.

“So you also -”

“Yes.”

“Say it.” He earns a pained look and knows exactly how Glaz feels but he’s not going to let him get away with it. “I’m serious. If you made me say it in front of the others, it’s only fair -”

“I didn’t know that’s what you wanted to tell me! I thought you were going to apologise”, Glaz hisses.

And… well. Whoops.

On second thought, that scenario makes a lot more sense than him demanding Echo lay himself bare before his friends, especially since his inability to apologise has been an issue several times before. “Oh”, he says dumbly. It’s not like he’s complaining, not really, not when it ended up with Glaz in his arms and the knowledge that they’re both… But still, there’s something nagging at him.

“Does that mean you’re going to apologise for not liking the sushi?”, he wants to know quite reasonably.

.

Oddly enough, when he gets tossed out of Glaz’ room again with the door being slammed shut once more (though this time it separates them), none of the three people populating the living room bat an eye.

“C’mere, sit down”, Mute tells him, entirely unconcerned over Echo’s dishevelled appearance.

“Shouldn’t I -” He points towards the front door. “Maybe he wants me to leave?”

“Nah. Whatever it is you said this time can’t be worse than what you normally say”, Rook waves his concerns aside. “Especially not after declaring your undying love – you get a few freebies for that.”

After some more non-verbal insisting, Echo awkwardly weaves himself into the British cuddle puddle and nearly gets kneed in the crotch in the process. Part of him is screaming to leave and nurse his wounded pride, both from misunderstanding Glaz completely and generally making a fool of himself, but on the other hand he’d like to spend more time with Glaz. And so he stays.

“Don’t worry”, Smoke grins at him, “Glaz is gonna cool off in a bit and it’ll all be fine, forgiveness runs rampant in this flat. I ate the entire chocolate cake Manu made for us and Mark still loves me.”

This gets him Mute’s undivided attention as well as a death glare. “You did what?!”

And while an enraged Mute tries to throw his lover off the sofa for such insolence, Echo thinks back to Glaz’ previous words. He’s probably right, there are some things in life he’s not appreciating enough and it’s not only Glaz himself. It’s good friends as well.

Maybe he should call Hibana later and thank her.

Or he could invite her out for some sushi instead.

#rainbow six siege #glaz #echo #glaz/echo #fanfic #oneshot #also these two would need some time #but they could be utterly adorable and wholesome #whoever gets together with glaz mute rook or twitch #basically adopts the rest as family