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winterchimez · 11 months

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Beast in the Beauty - Chapter 8

pairing: profiler Hyunjae x detective f!reader

genre & warnings: jack the ripper au, angst, violence, thriller, crime, mentions of prostitution, graphic description of death, major characters death, alcohol, some fluff

word count: 3,408

taglist: @deoboyznet @hokupi @kyusqult @asteriaskingdom @flwoie

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The clock on the wall chimes, indicating that it was already past noon.

You are now seated at your desk, organising all of the clues that all of you have gathered up till now.

Ever since the third victim case from a few weeks prior, all of you were surprised, to say the least, by how quiet the ripper himself has been. There hasn’t been any more murders since then, which was unusual considering his timeline of killing spree from the previous cases.

Except for the fact that the killer decided to turn his attention towards the police station now, where he targeted your friend Eric who was still behind bars, lying down hopelessly as there was nothing much he or all of you could do for the time being.

And of course, the letter you received from the ripper himself.

Only Haknyeon, Eric, and Hyunjae knew about this for now, and you certainly do not wish to bring it up to the chief, at least not for now, after seeing how capable the ripper is able to manipulate one of you next in his scheme.

What was his motive? Perhaps the killer is doing this all for revenge because of a grudge he had towards the law enforcement? Because you sure knew that it wasn’t the case when the ripper struck for the first time decades ago, where he merely hunted down prostitutes and had nothing to do with the police.

As there was a stark contrast as you compared the ripper’s current spree from 30 years ago, you were basically scratching your head really, not knowing where to really look to find the clues you needed.

The ripper’s words continue to linger in your mind, look back at the crime scenes.

You did the same as before. Flipping through archives from all of the cases up till now, even from the five canonical victims from the 1880s, but still to no avail.

As you grunted and began messing up your hair in frustration, a pair of hands lay upon your shoulders, and you turn your head up to look at the individual behind you.

Ah, your boyfriend.

It has been a week since that romantic incident at your apartment, and you’ve still yet to fully grasp the situation you’ve been in since then.

The way he touched you, made you feel safe and warm, and you craved for more. The steamy kiss and make-out session, and what happened after that?

Wait. wait.

You had to shake your head to clear out those nasty thoughts, even though you couldn’t help but replay those flashbacks in your mind nearly all the time now.

In conclusion, you were just happy to finally be in an established relationship, especially with someone who likes you back, and hell with a damn charming fine specimen as well.

Oh, how you were the luckiest girl alive.

You haven’t informed anybody about the relationship though, as you’d both like to keep it low-profile for now, especially knowing how this wouldn’t be the right time to announce that oh-yes-we’re-finally-a-thing to a gloomy and depressed-filled group of detectives in the office, having the ripper case sucking the lives out of them basically.

In other words, you both had to keep the little lovey-dovey actions you both have been doing to a bare minimum, if you didn’t want to get caught this early at least.

However, in all honesty, getting that confession out was like a burden off your shoulders, and you’re able to finally relax a bit. With having a somewhat doting boyfriend by your side, working with this cold-blooded murder case seemed a bit more bearable during this tumultuous time.

In fact, you actually received another letter from the ripper himself a few days ago, but it was different this time having someone who cares about you knowing about this whole ordeal. He made sure you did not keep any secrets from him and forced you to let him accompany you as you made your way back to the lion’s den days prior.

Unfortunately, none of you had gotten any luck gathering new intel from that encounter, for the ripper himself did not show up at all. It was definitely odd to say the least compared to the first encounter you had.

You thought it to be a prank this time, maybe from someone else, or even from the ripper himself. But that didn’t matter because you both came back safe and sound which was the most important. Hyunjae was there, to keep you safe, and you were grateful for that.

The days of quietness ended abruptly though, as the person you would least expect to storm right into the station was here, making her way right through your desk, demanding your presence right this second.

“Y/N. We need to have a word.” Selene forcefully dragged you out of your seat and the next thing you knew both of you were out the door, leaving behind a puzzled Hyunjae, whom you at least managed to mouth “I’ll get in touch with you later” before your friend slammed the door shut.

Throughout the whole journey of Selene dragging you to god knows where, you kept posing questions, on where she was taking you to and what has gotten into her for her to act in such a way. But the young lady didn’t speak a word, until both of you arrived at your destination.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight before you.

This is… or was… Selene’s former residence, when both of you were kids.

As Selene unlocked the door, she vigorously shoved you into the apartment, with you earning a yelp of pain in return.

“Selene. Calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

“Why didn’t you tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“About everything. Eric’s been placed behind bars, accused of something that he has never committed.”

She then takes a few steps closer until you both are only centimetres apart. “And you received a letter from the madman himself.”

God, Haknyeon must’ve told her.

You couldn’t blame Haknyeon though, for you knew if Selene did not hear a word from you and Eric for a period of time, Haknyeon is the person she would go to for answers. Knowing how she is practically a master of sweet-talking to people because of her profession, you knew Haknyeon didn’t stand a chance against her.

“We promised, Y/N. We would go through all sorts of hell and pain together, no matter what it takes. We would never keep a secret from one another. So tell me.” Now grabbing hold of both of your shoulders. “Why, Y/N?”.

“Selene, I want to keep you safe from all this harm-”

“Bullshit, Y/N. You know that there’s no escape from a murderer like the ripper, we are all bound to receive some sort of harm, be it directly or indirectly, because that is our job!”

Damn, she was pissed. It has been a while since you've seen your friend like this, which could only mean one thing and that she was hella serious with whatever words and actions she would pose.

And when she goes all enraged mode, it’s gonna take a hell of a long time to calm her down and talk some sense into her. But, you still had to try.

“Y/N, when I heard you actually paid a visit to the killer himself, do you know how worried I was? Of how it could’ve cost your life that night? My god, Haknyeon was lucky I did not storm right into your apartment the day I found out about this.”

This time, you fired back at the female. “Selene, after seeing what the ripper himself has done to both Eric and I, it should be crystal clear that he isn’t here to play games with us, and how serious and deadly he could be.”

Seeing that your friend was about to cut in, you quickly posed another remark that made her stop in her tracks. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, drop it. You won’t stand a chance alone.”

That made Selene drop both of her hands from your shoulders and pace around her room as she massages the migraine that was growing immensely.

You already knew what Selene was about to propose because that’s how well you knew her temperament since you both were kids.

Don’t even think about hunting down the ripper alone.

“I’m warning you, Selene. You will regret this, and I can’t afford to lose you. I beg of you.”

Because we’re sisters, not by blood, but by heart. How much we’ve been through since we were young, and there’s nothing that could replace our bond.

If only Selene wasn’t blinded by rage, she would’ve given you a hug and apologized for all of the anger that she has put on you unknowingly.

But she has had enough. Seeing how the target has murdered her co-workers in cold blood, and now eventually interfering with the lives of her closest people dear to her heart, you and Eric.

If you’re not going to catch the ripper, then she will.

Selene’s POV

It has been a few weeks since Selene moved back to her former residence. After multiple murders she has encountered over the past few months, especially how many of them are, or well used to be former employees of Cherry Hunt, she could no longer bear to reside in that place any longer.

It was hard for her to announce her decision to Mrs Potts when she was the one who basically took her in after escaping her house of horrors. Seeing how her mother brought a different man each day into their household was too much for young Selene at that time.

As much as Selene loved her mother, she definitely was against the idea of going into this field of work at the beginning. However, ever since you both decided to be partners in crime and eventually you helped Selene in securing a job of being an undercover agent, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

As long as you both are inseparable, Selene would do anything to keep you safe and happy. Because that was how close you both were and you basically grew up like sisters, even if it wasn’t by pure blood.

In order to find a proper place to stay for the time being, she had no choice but to return to her former residence, for it was the cheapest option out there in the market.

It looked exactly the same as it was as she reminisced back to her younger days, though she had to thank whoever moved in after she and her mother left actually kept the place well-maintained and even decorated it to look as aesthetically pleasing as possible. That was a steal honestly speaking.

The previous owners had no problems helping Selene to lower the rental fees by negotiating with the landlord, and she could never have been more grateful than that.

You were definitely stunned when Selene dragged you back to her former residence, for you knew how Selene basically detested this place and swore to never return even if she had to. But since the entire ordeal from that day was fundamentally influenced by rage on both sides, Selene wasn’t able to explain to you clearly how she ended up with the current living situation she was in now. To make matters worse, the conversation did not end on a good note, where you left her residence with a vexed expression, and Selene too was left behind with the same look as well.

Both of you knew you had to come clean with all sorts of secrets that you both have been hiding from one another and eventually apologize for causing all of these uproars. But neither of you will be doing that anytime soon because you both were stubborn like that, just like when you were kids.

But Selene knew deep down in her mind, she will have to be the one first to do the deed since she was practically the one who dragged you forcefully into her apartment and vented out on you.

However, that will have to wait, for she will be catching the ripper down red-handed on her own firsthand.

Being an undercover agent for years now has taught Selene so many valuable skills that she never knew she would be needing them for her current self-assigned mission. One of them is being able to find out hidden clues that are basically a naked eye to most individuals, including the detectives themselves.

In all honesty, Selene could very well become a spy as her official profession, if only she was able to afford the expenses to further her studies like you did. At the end of the day, she knew both of you came from very different backgrounds and she couldn’t blame her hardworking mother for any of this.

Shaking off the negative thoughts, she knew exactly where to find where the ripper himself had left off, which was to return back to the previous crime scenes in person.

Your childhood friend isn’t slow-witted and she herself has been keeping up with all of the latest information in regard to the case, and she was well aware of how there were some striking contrasts in comparison to the cases from the first murder spree back in the 1880s and to the current one.

Hence, she knew what exactly to look for and at without spending way too much time on a matter that had no relation to the case.

To start off, she returned back to Buck’s Row, where the ripper’s first-ever victim, Mary Ann Nichols was found decades ago. As she arrived on the scene, Selene immediately began searching high and low for clues, even looking up at the walls and every crook and corner of the scene.

She then took out a vial that contained a chemical solution, which she may or may not have stolen from the forensics lab where she snuck in a few days ago when most of the detectives, including you, were out on patrol.

Luminol. To recover dry patches of blood.

Selene began emptying the solution and scattered them around the scene, and sure enough, traces of blood had then reappeared on the surface. Unfortunately, she had no luck as it was just splatters of blood which indicates how violently the victim was attacked by then, and nothing new was found as written in the archived reports.

With that, it had somewhat given Selene a clear answer, that she no longer needed to go through the remaining 4 of the 5 canonical victims. She might as well skip right to the crime scene of the first victim that happened months prior instead, George Yard Street.

Your friend prayed as she hoped, desperately, that she is somewhat able to get some answers from here. Otherwise, she will have to start all over again from square one.

With a second bottle of vial in hand once again, she emptied its contents and scattered it throughout the scene, just like she did before in Buck’s Row.

This time, however, sure enough, she found a valuable hint, so much so that this was the key to finding out the identity of the killer himself. The hint that the law enforcement had desperately needed and has missed that will give you the breakthrough all of you craved for.

She was ecstatic. And she couldn’t wait to tell you the best news that has happened over the past few months.

There were writings on the wall.

In haste, Selene took each of the letters down word by word, and she quickly rushed off to the next scene, in hopes that she would be able to get the same answers.

True enough, writings in dried-up blood were found once again in the second crime scene, and ultimately in the third, which was the most recent one that Selene was there that night as she recalled the horrors of that day.

Only this time, she wasn’t able to fully get down the full message, for a deep chilling voice stopped her in her tracks.

“I’m afraid you have known too much, young lady.”

Standing behind Selene stood a tall male, wearing a dark cape and a top hat with his facial features being covered by the dimly lit area.

Jack The Ripper.

It was already dark out by then, which Selene failed to notice as she was preoccupied with finding clues throughout the entire day, and how the fog is getting thicker every minute.

Selene was stuck in Miller’s Court, with the killer, all alone.

She was in a life and death situation now, with none of you detectives by her side. Sure, she has been cornered before by criminals in previous cases she has worked on, but not with this madman that the public feared so much about for the past decades. Judging by the aura and tension she was feeling in the air, something had to be done real quick.

Or else there is a high possibility of her becoming the fourth victim.

“Well, sir Jack, it is truly a pleasure to finally be able to make your acquaintance after so long.” Selene tried her best to remain calm as she replied to the madman, but clearly failed to do so as it was obvious both parties could tell by the shakiness of her voice.

“Now now, don’t be scared. I am just here tonight to have a friendly chat with you my darling.”

No. Not happening.

“Well then, let me tell you one thing, Jack. You have ruined the lives of the people I care so much about, and hell even took them away from me. I swear to God you leave my friends alone from now on. Don’t even bother trying any more.”

As she was done, she immediately threw the vial of her hands right towards the ripper, which actually did land on the man himself, earning a slight yelp of pain in return.

With that, Selene immediately made a run for it, dashed through Miller’s Court and out into the streets. She couldn’t look back, fearing that the ripper was right behind her. Selene kept running throughout the night, constantly turning into several different alleyways, in hopes of confusing and losing sight of the ripper.

Once it had been a while and Selene was determined that the killer had lost her, she made a quick return to her residence.

I have to let Y/N and the others know about this information. And fast.

With the chances of the killer still out there, she couldn’t risk going straight to your doorstep, for fear that the ripper would hunt you down as his next victim. She could go to the station, but everyone would either be off work or out on patrol at this late at night.

Instead, the young lady quickly took a spare paper that was left laying on her desk and quickly wrote down a message with her pen dipped in blue ink.

Just as she was about to finish her message, a knock was heard on her front door.

Crap. Did the ripper actually follow me when I thought he had lost sight of me?

Selene contemplated for a moment before deciding to entertain whoever was by her doorstep this late at night. Before heading to the front door, she decided to fold the letter neatly and tuck it away in a secret location, one where she knew it will be found by you or your friends if anything were to happen to her.

With a deep huff, she took in a deep breath and peeked through the peephole of her front door.

Oh? What is he doing here late at night?

Thank heavens it was someone Selene knew. She mentally laughed at herself for being so paranoid and eventually turned the doorknob to open the door to greet the individual standing at her doorstep.

Since she basically couldn’t leave her guest standing out in the cold foggy night, she invited the male in with the thoughts of brewing a hot cup of tea and lighting up the fireplace to have a proper conversation.

Little did she know that this was a fatal mistake that Selene has ever done in her entire life.

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

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Sleepy Sex Part 12 - Liam (Nikita)

A/N: I’ll be honest I had no idea who Liam was and then my darling friend @yespolkadotkitty sent me the link to @dornish-queen video of Liam and I read her story and then like the next day @artemiseamoon wrote a Liam story and I was like ok I can do this now! You should check them out because they are amazing! Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting and liking.

Pairing: Liam x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + NSFW (Oral (language, F! Receiving, P in V sex, angst, major character death, gunshot wound, cauterizing a wound, mentions of blood)

Word Count: 2.2K this is the longest of the Sleepy Sex series I have written

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The dinner was cold, the candles had flickered out, and you sat dejected on the couch working through the second half of the wine bottle. The television flickered across your face, but the sound was muted. Reaching for the remote, you flicked it off and let out a large yawn, downing the remainder of your glass. You should clean up the mess, put away the leftovers, shower, change your clothes, but your energy was depleted. The hours of waiting for him to come only to be disappointed again was heartbreaking.

You knew who and what he was, but it still didn't lessen the blow each time you wound up disappointed and alone. You kick the door closed behind you and approach the bed peeling back the covers and crawling in. You clutch his pillow close to your face and inhale, but no trace of him is there anyone, just the fresh linen and lavender of your detergent. Liam never left any imprint. There were no photos of him in your home, no extra clothes, or a favorite mug. He was a ghost. He had to be for the life he lived.

No one could know about him either. Your friends, family, colleagues, everyone thought you were going to end up alone, even you thought that yourself most of the time. His work was dangerous; he'd admitted that to you one night after you both realized it was becoming more. More than two people who fucked each other's pain away, more than two people who had an occasional meal together. Just more.

Liam wasn't one to put a label on things, but you knew you were his person, just as he was yours. The altogether fact making it more gut-wrenching every time he snuck out in the early morning on your fire escape without waking you. The ghost of a kiss on your forehead before you could even open your eyes.

You feel the tears stream down your cheek, and you bite your knuckles hard to prevent the sobs from overtaking. You loved him. You loved a ghost. Eventually, your tears subside enough for you to enter a restless sleep, continually tossing and turning. You dream of the life you want with Liam, something stable and normal. A life where the man you love is not a cold-blooded murderer. You barely hear the sound of the window opening over your tumultuous thoughts.

You keep your eyes shut tight and reach towards the nightstand where you know the knife is hidden. Liam had gotten it for you after he told you what he did, never wanting anyone to harm you because of his life. He'd taught you how to use it, sharpen, clean, and conceal it. The hilt is light in your hand, and you drag it beneath the pillow.

It could be Liam, you know, but the odds of it being someone else with nefarious intent enters your mind. The bed dips behind you, and you strike quickly. Your arm swinging low to slice open the belly of your possible attacker. Liam's voice ringing in your ears, "aim for an artery or the belly; they will bleed out faster that way."

"Fuck," Liam's voice hisses as he shoots back off the bed and meets your wild gaze. He flicks on the light on the nightstand and looks down at you. Knife poised in your hands the way he taught you and lip between your teeth, hair wild, and panting. "I don't know whether I should be proud or concerned that you almost stabbed me." You put the knife back into the nightstand, and he lowers his hands from the defensive pose.

"You could use the door, you know, like a normal person." He smiles at your annoyed tone and finishes removing his shirt as he had started. You reach forward and place a hand on his torso, "What's this?" Your fingers graze the gauze pad held on with tape, and he sighs.

"I got shot," he says it so casually, like someone telling you about a paper cut at the office.

"What?" Your voice is hollow, and he pulls your hands off him and sits down beside you. "What do you mean you got shot? How could you let someone get that close?"

"Y/N, it's a part of my job. Sometimes people get hurt at work." You feel the rage rise up in your chest, and you pull your hands away from him like a burn.

"You don't have a normal job, Liam. You are an assassin; you kill people. An accident at work for you could be your death. You don't make mistakes, ever. Now tell me what happened?" He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, and scoots back to lay against the headboard.

"It was nothing. Just some old friends who wanted to say hello. Don't worry about it."

You scoff, letting out an unamused chuckle. "Don't worry about it...how can you even say that?" You stand up and pace the floor of your bedroom. "Every single day, all I do is worry about you. You missed dinner again, and you want to know what I thought? That you're dead. You never call, text, hell, I'd be happy with a goddamn smoke signal! Anything to let me know you're okay. That you're alive." You throw your arms up in exasperation, and he watches you with those cold, calculating eyes from the bed.

"Do you want me to leave?" his voice is calm and quiet.

"No. No, I want you to stay with me. Move-in with me, go out to dinner, meet my parents. I want to be with you! Not spend every night wondering where you are. Worried you're being buried in an unmarked grave in the desert with a gunshot wound to the head. I just want you to be with me."

He looks at you, and your hands tremble; he suddenly looks so exhausted. His eyes droop, and his skin becomes pale. "Liam? Baby?" You surge forward and catch him before he falls off the bed, collapsing. You scream for him and lay him on his back, pulling off the bandage soaked with blood. "Shit, shit," you try to think of everything he's taught you, and you notice the knife sticking out of the drawer.

He's bleeding heavily, and you grab the knife and run to the kitchen turning on the flame on the stove. You pull down a bottle of Ever clear and take a quick swig cringing at the burn. You put the knife over the flame and watch it turn red, the flame flickering in your eyes. When it's hotter than hell, you walk quickly back to the bedroom and pour alcohol over the wound.

"I'm so sorry, my love," you whisper and place the knife to his stomach. The smell of burnt flesh fills the room, and he lets out a pained groan as the wound closes. You rush to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit doing your best to give it air before you patch him up.

You pull the chair close to his side of the bed and collapse into it. Holding your head in your hands. His breathing returns to normal, and his face, once scrunched up in pain, softens. You lean forward in the chair and reach for his neck, making sure he still has a pulse, and pull away relieved.

You stay up watching him for hours but eventually fall asleep, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. When you come too, a blanket has been draped over your body. The shadow of a figure is moving beneath it up and down. You clench around the fingers dipped inside you, warmth floods between your legs, and you hear hi sucking as your clit is pulled into Liam's hot mouth.

"Liam," you moan and pull the blanket off, revealing the predator devouring your body. "Baby, what are you doing?"

He doesn't respond, only quickening the pace of his fingers and licking at your pleasure point, making his tongue swirl just the way you like. Who knows how long he's been between your legs but his large hands move your thighs over his shoulders and pulls you closer. The cascade of pleasure erupts, and you're cumming on his tongue as he continues to work you through it. When you're shaking so bad you can barely speak, he lets go and gives you a soft smile from between your thighs.

"I'm thanking you for saving my life," he's quiet, and both of you are lost in one another's eyes. Until he moves up to kiss you softly. "Let me make love to you," he whispers against your lips, and you shake your head no biting on his bottom lip.

"We can't, your stomach," he cuts you off with another kiss before pulling back to your haunches.

"What if you rode me, baby?" You look at him wide-eyed, feeling more awake. Liam was always in control of every aspect of his life, including his sexual one.

You nod slowly as he gets up and lays down on the bed. You carefully straddle his hips taking extra caution not to touch the wound on his stomach. His hands reach forward and line you up with his cock. Guiding you slowly down onto him. You both moan at how well he fills you, the tight warmth of your cunt clenching around him.

He holds on to your hips, and you slowly rise up and almost pulling him out entirely and then impaling yourself down on him. The two of you moving in sync together as you chase down the high of being together. It's impossible to tell where he ends, and you begin both of you connected in such a way beyond the physical.

His eyes bore into yours as you rock faster and move a hand down to rub your clit. The other hand on his chest to brace yourself. "I'm close," he pants, tightening his grip with one hand and slapping away yours as he takes over, rubbing your clit. "I need you to cum with me baby, soak me with those delicious juices."

You feel your high reaching a boiling point, and he takes his hand off your hip and brings it to your chin, forcing you to look at him. The tears in his eyes have you slow down, but he bucks up into you, keeping up the pace. "Hey," he breathes heavy, "I love you." You feel the crash of ecstasy crash into you like the waves upon the sand. Him spilling into you at the same time, painting your walls with his cum.

"Liam," you cry out, "I love you." He smiles so brightly his entire face is illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. You fall to his side, being careful of his wound. His arm curls around you and brings you tight to his side, placing his lips on your forehead.

"Sleep," he whispers, "I love you."

"I love you, Liam," you yawn, "so much." Your eyes grow heavy, and everything darkens as you drift off to sleep.

In the morning, the bed is empty and cold. He's been gone for a while, you surmise, and your heart clenches thinking upon his confession. You knew Liam loved you, but that was the last time he'd ever said it. You get up to shower and clean up the mess from last night, knowing that whatever came next, all would be okay because he loved you and knew you loved him back.

******

Two days. He'd never gone that long without communication before, and those same feelings of fear begin to grow in the pit of your stomach. The doorbell shocks you out of your stupor, and you run to yank it open. A woman stands there, her arms folded behind her back, and you feel the tension in the air. Whatever she was here for, it wasn't good.

"Are you," she pulls out an envelope with your name on it and reads it to you.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I hate to have to tell you this, but Liam is dead." The world stops spinning. Instead, you are now the dizzy one. Nausea rises in your throat, and you fall back into the apartment and land on the floor. A sob ripping from your throat, the woman stands awkwardly in the doorway. "I know this must come as a shock, but he left something for you." You look up at her in confusion, and she hands you the envelope. You take it from her hands and hold it close to your chest. Inhaling the scent of lavender and linen from your own bedding.

"I'll leave you to grieve. I'm sorry for your loss. I left the card for the medical examiner's office in the envelope if you wanted to make arrangements." She backs out of the door and shuts it disappearing down the stairs.

Your hands shake as you rip open the envelope. Liam's handwriting sticks out amongst the page, the slight curl of his letters. The one thing that was always distinctly him.

My love,

You told me last night that if anything happened to me, you would never know. But if you are reading this, then you'll know it has. I'm not one who can spout poetics and write you long letters filled with my undying love. So I will keep it simple.

I love you.

I want you to live your life. Fall in love, get married, buy the house, make babies, and forget me. I'm gone.

But for the moments, I was on this earth. I loved you, and only you.

Goodbye, my love,

Liam

Taglist: @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @mrsparknuts @ghostwiththemostbitch @zannemes @xjaywritesx @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes

#liam nikita #Nikita #Female reader #Liam Nikita x reader #Pedro Pascal #Sleepy sex series #Autumn Writes

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Demons, Canon-Typical Violence, One Night Stands, Getting Together, Drunkenness, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eddie Diaz Is A Good Father

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 3RD EVERYONE and thank you to @eddiesdiaz and @hearteyesforbuck for convincing me to write what started out as a spite fic.

***

“You really love that kid, huh?” Buck murmured against his chest, and Eddie smiled, a soft chuckle making his chest (and Buck’s head) shake. “I do. He deserves everything I can give him and so much more. I’d do anything, give up anything, to make sure Chris is happy and safe.”

“You’d... sell your car for him?” He asked, looking up as Eddie scoffed.

“Please. In a heartbeat.”

Buck rose a brow, fingers circling Eddie’s palm. “You’d sell your house?”

“Without a doubt.” Eddie locked Buck’s fingers in his own, bringing their hands to his lips, kissing each of Buck’s knuckles.

“Would you sell your soul?”

———————————————————————————————————

For the record, Eddie Diaz really and truly thought that he was going to have a good day when he woke up.

He had actually slept that night, which was a great start.

He finished his morning run in time to have breakfast with Chris and Carla, which was embarrassingly infrequent.

He was still smiling, humming some song from one of Chris’ shows under his breath, when he went to check the mail that morning, and that was when everything went to shit.

The simple “Condolences” card would have basically gone unnoticed in the stack of bills and junkmail, had it not been for the Texas zip code on the envelope. He thumbs the edge of the card, a frown across his face as he racks his brain—had anyone died recently? He didn’t think so, hadn’t heard from his aunt or his abuela, they hadn’t had any life or limb threatening calls in almost a month and a half.

He opened the card slowly, eyes scanning over the block of text written on the left side of the card, his heart instantly kicking overdrive as he picked out a few words.

The card was for Shannon.

Shannon, who his parents were not exactly on the best of terms with. Shannon, who had responded to Eddie leaving in turn, who had divorced him less than twenty four hours before her death.

Shannon who had been dead for a year, almost to the day.

He almost, almost couldn’t believe it, that his mother and father would be the kind of people who send death-anniversary-condolence cards, but those thoughts were stuck swirling around in his own guilt. Shannon had died a year ago and Eddie hadn’t even realized it. Sure, they had a tumultuous relationship at best, and he still missed her—especially missed her with Chris—but it still felt gross, realizing that he had spaced out what he felt should have been such an important milestone.

He only barely scanned over the words “Chris” and “with us” and “for the best” before he slammed the card against his chest, his eyes wide and wild, only a second away from going full fight-or-flight because of a fucking greeting card. He didn’t want to believe that he was still going to be fighting against this, that he had to continue to fight against his parents for his son. They were doing better. He was doing better. And for anyone to suggest, twelve months after the fact, that Shannon’s death would have been a decent reason for Eddie to give up custody...

Between calling out of work last minute and having to be reminded twice to kiss Chris goodbye when Carla brought him to school, Eddie knew that he wasn’t exactly the image of stability at this point—but he was pretty sure that could all be forgiven, considering his circumstances.

Blindsided by an event that happened a year ago: check.

Still only barely making ends meet and paying for his son’s needs: check.

Regularly feeling like an absolute failure in a personal, professional, and fatherly sense: fucking triple check.

Eddie’s only saving grace was that Chris had already planned on spending the night with Hen and Karen and Denny that evening, so Eddie could do the one thing he did best.

Better than anyone else. Better than anyone, ever.

Finding a random bar to get absolutely plastered in.

“It’s just, when I thought they couldn’t sink any fucking lower, they do. They act like she was no one when she was alive, and now that she’s dead I’m supposed to just hate her alongside them because they hate her cause she divorced me, but spoiler alert! She died anyway!” Eddie was saying, his face resting cheek down on the bar, the straight whiskey he had been sipping swirling around in its glass, the amber liquid refracting light over his face. He was alone in the bar, had been for two hours at least—his words might have been the slightest bit slurred, but the bartender seemed to be ever understanding, nodding his head as he wiped down the spot next to Eddie, what seemed to be the last of his closing duties.

His bartender, who was rapidly going up in Eddie’s opinion—not just because of his impeccable pours, and the fact that he was pretty cute (and yes, that was Eddie’s unbiased opinion), but because he was listening. He was actually listening as Eddie rambled on, more than just that passive grunt-and-nod that so many bartenders thought passed for actually paying attention to their clientele.

“You know,” Bartender started, tapping his fingers on the bar, a steady rhythm that pulsed through Eddie’s cheek in a semi-comforting manner. “It’s okay that you didn’t hate her. Even after the divorce. Just because two people divorce, doesn’t mean they don’t love one another, just that... that they’re better apart than they are together.”

Oooh. That was a good point. It was wrong, but it was still a good point. Eddie rose his hand to counter balance himself, pushing into an upright position so he could take another swallow from the glass in front of him. “I didn’t love her, not at the end, but...” Eddie started, sipping and swallowing. “I loved what she was.”

The bartender leaned forward, raising a brow, and Eddie felt his eyes naturally drift from the small green gem that was hanging off of the chain around his neck to the beauty mark, dancing above his browbone, scrunched up as he scrutinized Eddie that much further. “And what was she?”

“A partner.” Eddie said easily, catching the surprise on the other's face. “She was my partner, even though I was a shitty one. And she was a friend, even though I was a shitty one. And she was such a good parent, and I’m—“

“I swear, if you say you’re a shitty parent I’m going to clock you with this bottle.”

Eddie laughed in spite of himself, his eyes trailing back down, somewhere around the bartender’s chest—Buck, his name tag said. Eddie was pretty sure he had been told that already. “Seriously, man, I’ve heard you talk more kindly about your kid from the time you were half a drink in than most people do when they’re sober.”

Eddie sighed, knocking the rest of his drink back, sliding the glass back to Buck. “Well, isn’t that how dads are supposed to be? Willing to take bubb—bulb—bullets for their kid?”

Buck snorted, swiping Eddie’s glass for a refill—only a finger this time, not three—Eddie was probably going to be cut off soon, much to his dismay. He wasn’t nearly as plastered as he wanted to be, and having to go to another bar was going to be a major fucking inconvenience. “Not mine.” Buck said, putting the bottle back on the shelf. “My dad would probably be more upset about a bullet going through any clothes he bought us than he would be about it actually going through us. Charming bastard, he was.”

Eddie sucked in a deep breath—to offer his condolences or maybe to cry, he wasn’t sure, because Buck waved it off before he could say one thing or the other. “It’s no big deal, it’s all said and done now. All you can do is be there for your kid as best as you can, and Eddie, I can already tell that you are.”

Eddie sighed as he let his head fall into his hand, lips buzzing as he exhaled, face smushing against his palm. “I hope so. I really want to be, I’d... fuck. I’d give anything to help my kid, to make sure he was safe, to... to make sure he would always be protected.”

Had Eddie been a tad more sober, or maybe a tad more attentive, he probably would have noticed the sudden flick of Buck’s eyes, or the way his wrist jerked to a sudden halt while he was cleaning a glass. He might have noticed the way Buck ran his tongue over his lips, and... well, okay, he definitely noticed that, and was pleased to see Buck’s lips turn into a smile.

“Hey, closing time is in about... now. You sober enough to go for a walk with me, or do you want me to call you a cab? Either way, I’m not letting you drive.”

Eddie pouted, reaching for his wallet in his jacket pocket, blinking in surprise as Buck waved him away. “Come on, you’ve had a rough... year, sounds like. I’ll consider it on the house.”

Eddie felt his cheeks pink up, pulling his jacket on, smiling as he looked down to the bar for a moment. “Alright, well, I owe you one then.”

“Counting on that.” Buck said, his smile wide again, just barely on the right side of too-sharp and too-toothy. “Now, come on. Take a walk with me.”

The cold Californian air (well, as cold as it got in California in March) did more to sober Eddie up than any amount of water, and he smiled as he shrugged his jacket a little tighter as Buck locked the door to the little bar he had spent the past few hours in.

His smile grew as Buck finally made eye contact with him again, easily falling into line a half step ahead of Eddie as they started to walk, letting the bartender lead the way to wherever they were going.

“So, Eddie. How did a nice guy like you wind up in a bar like mine?” Given the half conversation they had in the bar, Eddie had no idea what kind of conversation Buck would be expecting—so he was surprised when Buck directed the topic toward himself, asking Eddie about where he grew up, what he did for work, his likes, his dislikes. It was cute, and benign, and Eddie felt his cheeks pink up in a way that wasn’t entirely related to the cold weather every time he caught Buck actually listening to him, actually giving a damn about his interests.

“But, uh, enough about me.” Eddie said, his face bright red as he realized just how long he had been talking. It was unlike him, to say the least—while he wasn’t really a private person, he didn’t have that many opportunities to share himself with people, so now that he had one, he was definitely rambling. “What about you, what’s your story? You’ve already heard all about my parents and my son, any rugrats of your own wandering around?”

No sooner did than the words left Eddie’s mouth did he wish he could take them back—the flash of pain that crossed Buck’s face was only compounded by the way his shoulders hunched, drawing into himself like it was second nature. “Nah, felt like it was kind of selfish, you know? Risking fucking up a little kid just because I wanted one, when I have no idea how to care for one. My parents were... not great. I mean, they weren’t terrible, but they definitely didn’t want to be parents, and they just weren’t... there.” He started, his words slow as they fell back into step with one another. “But I have a sister. She’s so smart, she got out the minute she could and never looked back. She’s the one who gave me this, when I graduated high school.”

Buck’s smile was nothing short of captivating, small and soft as he pulled the small stone Eddie had seen earlier out from his shirt, admiring the gem on the chain before he tucked it away again. “Anyway, she left, and then my dad died, and then my mom kind of lost it, to the point where my options were either move across the country or call an old priest and a young priest. So, don’t walk away thinking you won the award for crazy parent this evening.” Buck said, snorting in a way that was a little too familiar in the “I-make-light-of-my-problems-to-cope” tone that Eddie himself had mastered.

Keeping their pace even, Eddie sighed, looking up at the night sky. It was bright, obnoxiously so—between the city lights and the street lamps above him he couldn’t make out a single star, but he liked to imagine them anyway. The moon was full, at least, and that would do for the time being. “Bobby—err, my boss—says that your family, your real family, is the one you choose, not the one you’re born into. I don’t know if that helps, but… you can always choose something better, Buck. You deserve that much.” he finished with a shrug, raising a brow as he watched Buck shrink into himself, catching the motion out of the corner of his eye.

“You think so?” Buck asked, looking up at Eddie through his lashes (which was a truly impressive feat, considering Eddie was pretty sure Buck was taller than he was). “I do. Or at the very least, I like to believe it.” Eddie said as Buck smiled, bumping his shoulder playfully as they fell back into step, well aware of the way Buck’s eyes trailed over his lips as they curved into a smile of his own.

He wasn’t... stupid, after all. He may have had a busy life and a busy schedule, but Eddie knew when someone was flirting with him. It happened enough while they were out on calls—not that he wanted to toot his own horn—and while he had religiously turned down every single ‘opportunity’ while he was on the clock, that didn’t mean he was a stranger to a one night stand (especially after a few drinks).

And the way that Buck seemed to be looking at him was... delicious, to say the least.

He was caught by surprise when they came to a stop in front of the same bar they had left some half hour ago, his own curious expression met with Buck’s grin. “Well, look at that!” Buck said, looking above the bar toward a set of windows set back behind the neon sign. “Thanks for walking me home.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh as he nodded his head, dramatically waving an arm in front of him. “Well, it was my pleasure. And, um, thank you for talking with me, and for listening to me. It... You’ve turned a really shitty day into a much better night.” Eddie said, feeling a warmth spread through him as Buck flat out blushed.

He blushed. Motherfucker had no right being that cute.

“Well, I’m glad that I could help.” Buck said with a smile, pulling him back into the present, looking up at what Eddie assumed was his apartment. “But, you know... the better night doesn’t have to be over yet. Do you want to come up for some coffee?”

Buck probably had a very nice loft above his bar—but Eddie couldn’t be sure, because the moment the door shut behind him, Buck had him pressed up against it, lips pressed against his own and hands blazingly hot on his body. The only thing he could be sure of was that Buck had a great ass—a perfect ass, even because that was the only thing Eddie was holding on to before Buck picked him up, literally, and carried him up the stairs to bed.

Holy fuck, Eddie thought he was going to cum then and there.

Eddie wasn’t someone who was overwhelmed easily, but he found himself starting to lose himself as Buck’s teeth roamed around his body, leaving love bites on his neck, collar bone, down his stomach, and then oh—oh—Eddie felt his cock sink into warm, wet heat, his eyes rolling back in his head as a guttural noise escaped his throat.

Buck just giggled. That asshole.

Nearly an hour later, Eddie was delightfully sore, body tugged in ways he didn’t think were possible without an aggressive amount of stretching. He struggled to catch his breath as Buck flopped over his chest, looking every bit as content as Eddie felt.

“Eddie, holy, uh,” Buck started, and Eddie was pleased to realize he wasn’t the only one who was panting. “Holy shit, that was amazing. Is there a, uh, round two in the stars, or do you have to go home soon? I don’t know about your kid...” Eddie blushed, feeling a little bit of warmth in his chest, entirely unrelated to the physical presence of the man currently using him as a pillow.

“No, he’s out for the night. But as far as round two goes, you may need to give me a few.” he answered with a laugh, all smiles as Buck pulled himself up to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips, sighing contentedly. His deeper breaths turned into a steady sigh as Buck started to trace patterns up and down his free arm, fingers dancing over the palm of one of his hands while the other wrapped around Buck’s shoulders.

Buck felt, more than he heard Eddie speak, the vibrations traveling through his cheek easily. “You’d... sell your car for him?” He asked, looking up as Eddie scoffed.

“Please. In a heartbeat.”

Buck rose a brow, fingers circling Eddie’s palm. “You’d sell your house?”

“Without a doubt.” Eddie locked Buck’s fingers in his own, bringing their hands to his lips, kissing each of Buck’s knuckles as his naked body moved against him. Eddie let out an entirely undignified noise as Buck rolled suddenly, straddling his hips, one hand supporting his weight beside Eddie’s head, the other still linked with his own as he grinned.

“Would you sell your soul?”

Eddie groaned in response as Buck rolled his hips down, still equally overstimulated and sensitive as he nodded his head quickly. “Course. Like I said, anything.”

Eddie felt his eyes slide half shut as Buck sucked in a breath, the expression on his face nothing short of elated. “Oh, Eddie. You won’t regret this, I promise.” he gushed, his eyes bright. “It’s a deal.”

Even as he felt the confusion grow, Eddie couldn’t help but smile as Buck leaned down into a kiss, his enthusiasm—even if Eddie wasn’t sure what it was about—was positively infectious. He felt another groan get pulled from his lips as his eyes slid shut, the sound drowned in Buck’s mouth, Buck’s body heavy on his own and his hand warm in Eddie’s, and...

...wait, no, not warm. Hot. Really hot.

In fact, his entire body was hot. Every inch where Buck touched him was suddenly burning, like he was a white hot coal pulled straight from the fire.

Eddie gasped and pushed back from the kiss, his lungs burning from the inside out, feeling like he was sucking in smoke, his head starting to spin.

“Eddie, it’s okay, just breathe...”

Buck’s voice was a thousand miles away as Eddie grit his teeth, willing his eyes to focus. The last thing he could see was Buck, still beaming at Eddie like he won the lottery; eyes so bright they were literally glowing, his smile far too sharp to be human, matching the two growths sprouting from his head, and Eddie—

Eddie finally broke, body arching away from the burning heat that was spread out on top of him, letting out what he thought was a scream as everything went black.

#911 #buddie #Eddie diaz #Evan buckley #halloween #demon!Buck #demon!AU #flospeaks #fanfic #hurt/comfort

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naruto-v2 · 4 years

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History of Naruto

Warring Clans era, pre-hidden villages

Huge drop in intermarriages between different clans and a more careful selection of having children. Feudal lords/daimyo ( a large land owner) and other warlords who were not ninja would hire various clans of ninja to fight for them. These clans had no allegiance specifically to any feudal lord or country except what allegiance they might have by way of being hired repeatedly by a lord and having a good relationship. the clan is everything, here’s no national loyalty. In this era, the clan leader is responsible for his (let’s be real, his) kinsmen. He chooses the jobs to take, he chooses who fights, he oversees training, he ensures payment, he invests, he arranges marriages. Older people would train their own children or bring them out to missions with them to gain experience.

The clan and its continuance was the priority over individual lives. In this landscape, some people over time developed the ability to mold chakra better and better. They started out little better than ordinary soldiers in the real world, taking jobs for hire (mercenaries) but by the Founders Era, shinobi had become so much more powerful than civilians (especially with ninjutsu) that even children were able to be effective soldiers. The power breakthroughs started coming faster and faster, amping up the arms race and resulting in unprecedented bloodshed, which led Hashirama and others to seek a better way.

Why Child soldiers?

People are dying at a rapid rate, resources are in high demand, clan wars raid and take all the assests (Land, resources, money, women and children), leaving many clans devastates. Still, there are so many different clans fighting for the limited number of jobs. To survive, the clans need to maximize their workforce and the children need the experience early on.

Village Era

Villages start popping up all over the place to ensure common wealth and propper security. Rather than hundreds and thousands of competing clan loyalties, you now have something like a dozen or two hidden villages–a big drop. As a sort of shinobi union, they have more pull in setting prices and preventing people from skipping payment. Clan leaders have all the power within their clan. Clans own a piece of the village, paying taxes based on its population and size of land, minus how much it contributes to the village. You pay taxes to the clan or to the village.

Year -1: Izuna dies at age 24.

Year 0: Early planning stages of the village. The Uchiha, being poorer than the Senju, having lost so many people, have started to give up hope. The majority of them are children, so many are starting to deflect to the other side. Hashirama, of course, lets them in, with Tobirama’s condition that they are watched closely.

Year 1/Village founded between Uchiha, Senju, Yamanaka, and Akimichi: Hashi is 28, Tobi is 26, Mada is 29, Mito is 24. Hashi is elected hokage later in this year.

Year 2: Hashi takes office at the start of the year, marrying an Uchiha to establish the peace. The Academy is opened and there is a restriction placed that only children above 13 can enter the battlefields. Tobi disagrees with Hashi’s peaceful yet weak methods. He spreads rumors that Uchiha get strong by killing their own members and taking their eyes, as Madara had done, and other terrible lies that poses them in a bad light.

Year 3: Madara warns Hashirama that Tobirama may be up to something but Hashirama dismisses it as Madara is merely overreacting.

Year 4: Hashi organizes the first Five Kage Summit and the they reach the consent that each nation should get at least one Kyuubi to balance the power. Hashi gets an alliance with the Uzumaki and adopts their symbol as part the Konoha symbol in return for one of their members to become a jinjuriki.

Year 5: Madara leaves in a state of despair at age 34 after Hashirama is assasinated at night by Tobi and his followers. (He was too trusting, poor guy.) Tobi kills his Uchiha wife to eliminate any evidence and pins the blame on Madara, stating that he was jealous of the position. Tobi, 31, becomes Hokage. He is extremely cruel to the Uchiha and somehow creates a bitterness with Sand Village. He had an alliance with the Water and the Cloud. Later that year, he marries an Uzumaki, the host of the Kyuubi, a weapon to ensure Konoha’s dominance.

Year 7: Tobi is extremely utilitarian so tons of new jutsu inventions, massive funds towards the military and weapon research. All the other countries are afraid of this development as by the time word gets out, Konoha is rumored to have the strongest army. He starts a war with many other countries to increase Missions for money. Sand and Stone quickly build a pledge of loyalty to Tobi. Communication sucks at this point and Tobi is monitoring any message pigeons. He builds a trade network and decreases the age for shinobi from his brother’s idiotic 15 years old to 12 years old. He increases the fighting classes in academies, thinks if you can’t fight, you are worthless. Racist towards uchihas and chakra cripled people.

Year 8: Hyuuga clan alliance

Year 20: Tobi dies at age 46 after being hokage for 15 years. Shokkou Nara at 25 years old, Tobi’s disciple and supporter, becomes Hokage and continues Tobi’s ideals. He creates a council to help him manage the growing city.

2nd great war due to land disputes, Konoha is trying to take back its fertile land from sand, who in desperation invents the puppet technique. After Tobi, Fire had increased greatly, but not enough. With the massive and powerful army Tobi has created, Konoha wins, putting Sand into a terrible economic status. The nation increases so much that Sokkou creates a council to help direct the nation and grants all the daimyos control over their village as long as they abide by the pledge of loyalty.

Year 41: When Sokkou, a ruthless and land hungry man, kills all of Hinata Hyuuga’s family, Konoha is raided by her and other rebels she gathered. She is a strong headed woman who does not tolerate violence and helps reform Konoha security and defense measures. She rebuilds an alliance with Stone and shinobi are directly financed by the state in order to assist in both common good projects (eg imagine all the infrastructure mud and water (Brick) release can do or Akimichis moving stuff) and helping those who cannot currently afford what they need (especially after constant war which is at least partly your fault, ninja). Non-ninjas are still not represented but are safer in the city so they stay. External affairs are rocky, still tensions with Sand and surrounding Countries for having stolen their land. The era of internal reform.

Year 68: Hinata retires at age 69 and puts Senju Ariko 20 in her place

Year 72: Trade flourishes, chunin is reformed to ban killing and to unite the allied countries, age of prosperity and peace, strong diplomatic ties. The era of Prosperity

Year 78: Senju Arik, 31, falls in love with Daimyo's son.

Year 79: Her actions are discovered and this nearly causes a civil war as the other daimyos feel that she has been favoring him and giving him more benefits/security. She stops seeing him but it's not enough to quell the increasing tensions between the daimyos and the capital city. Shinobi are angry as some Daimyos start giving out less missions to Hidden Leaf Village as a way of protest. When she is assassinated by an enemy, peace returns. The council, made up of her best friends, installed her adviser, Masanori Kazamatsuri as the next Hokage. She enforces rights and protections for the civilians as she had a brother who was born with a failed chakra system. This empowers the civilians to speak their concerns. She accepts their proposal for a separate academy for non ninjas so that there is less discrimination in school and they can focus on academics/skills for a civilian job. Having the insane belief that there will be peace fo a long time, she does not keep up a strong military and defense, causing other countries to take advantage and raid the country. In addition, she is terrible with politics and the economy falls into depression. Daimyo’s are once again directing their missions to more competent villages and swearing alliance to other hidden villages. Many people start moving to other hidden villages.

Year 85: After massive protesting from the citizens, Masanori is taken off the Hokage position. Hiruzen takes the Hokage position at age 25 with Danzo as his adviser. Due to the last Hokage, there is only a fractional population of when Konoha was at its height of prosperity. He rebuilds the military and defense, creating the Anbu to take care of underground missions.

lowers the war age drastically in order to get more soldiers on the front line. He explained that it was good to build bonds early, and difficult missions will be forestalled until 13. His view is extremely nationalistic.

Year 90: Just as he cleaned up all the issues and leveled the economy, rebuilding alliances and trade, they are hit with a drought. With the loss of the economy’s greatest profit, agriculture, Hiruzen drastically lowers the age for graduating academy. He foresees a tumultuous time ahead and gathers three top students, including his son, from the Academy and places them under him. They later become the powerful sannin.

Year 93: The Third Great Shinobi War starts

Year 99: 6 year old Kushina gets the kyuubi from Kiki, who dies due to Suna’s new poisonous techniques. Late into the year, war ends with a treaty between Sand and Fire.

Year 112: Orochimaru is chased out of the village for being discovered experimenting on people.

Year 113: Hiruzen, facing criticism for his own son doing such cruel things, retires at age 53 after being hokage for 28 years. Minato, age 19 becomes the youngest Hokage after performing amazing feats in war.

Year 117: Kyuubi attack. Minato dies at age 24 after being hokage for 5 years. Kushina dies at 24. Naruto is born. Minato’s right hand man and previous teammate Toushirou at age 24 (The black haired guy on Team Jiraiya) takes the position. He believed that the best course of action is to confine Naruto into an apartment that is surrounded by strong genjutsu to hide it from others. He is very trusting of Danzo, an important council member, and allows Danzo to form the root. Due to Itachi’s reports, he believes that the Uchiha will harm Konoha. He allows Danzo to order their massacre for the benefit of peace. He assigns a personal anbu caretaker with her life on the line if she disobeys to take care of Naruto and visits him every month. He saw how Orochimaru had deflected, Kakashi was traumatized, and Gai had attachment issues, connecting to their young age of graduation so he increased genin to 13, chunin to 15 (most pass at 17), and jonin to 18(most pass at 20). Genin had 3 tiers:

Tier 1: D-C- start leaving the village with an older group

Tier 2: D-C-B - out of village with a jonin allowed

Tier 3: mostly B rank missions

He added lesson plans to all the three man teams, revolutionizing the school system.

Year 132: Hiruzen dies by Orochimaru’s hands. Toushirou dies defeating Rasa. As due to a monarchy, Kankuro becomes the next hokage as he had been trained in politics by his father since his childhood. The council realizes that big things are happening, what with Asuma dying earlier that year, kyuubi attacks all over the place. The other viable candidates all seem to have grudges against Naruto, but he is necessary to the village’s military power so the council orders Jiraya to take the position. He declines, stating that he is crucial to gathering information. He takes Naruto to bring Tsunade, Naruto’s grandmother, back as she will protect Naruto. She becomes the next Hokage.

2 year skip: Kankuro works to reform Gaara’s image but many people are still afraid of him.

#history #naruto #naruto uzumaki #headconon #hc #lore #information #konoha #education #reform #naruto headcanons

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kravenergeist · 3 years

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I always hear the argument that there is no helping the way things are; that “it is what it is” and that there’s no use complaining about things; to suck it up and accept that the only way to survive is to be tough enough; that the world doesn’t care if we think it’s unfair or not, and that it will just mow over anyone who doesn’t pick themselves up by their boot straps and get with the program.

NO.

We can MAKE the world better than this.

Our singular purpose - AS A SPECIES - has always been to make the world better for human life to thrive. Look at literally ANY history book and tell me that the slow, tumultuous, admittedly oft-encumbered, but still ultimately progressive trend line has not ALWAYS been in the direction of benefitting humanity as a whole? There’s a REASON we refer to it as the Stone Age, the Dark Age, the Bronze Age, the Iron Age, the Industrial Age, and so on - because each one of these landmarks has been a milestone for human progress, which has almost always lead to our overall benefit!

Look at any metric - rate of illness, childhood mortality, violent crime, GDP, or hell, just population overall - every successful society that has ever existed has done whatever it could to reduce the ails of the majority of their people and improve their lives however they could, and the end result was a slow steady march toward where those metrics are today. This has ALWAYS been our common goal, even if not all of us can see it or agree with it, the majority of history clearly speaks for itself.

So DON’T tell me this is as good as it gets! DON’T tell me we have to suck it up, take our licks, and settle for the worst the world has to give us! We can continue to make things better for everyone! And on the whole, when presented with the option, we basically have ALWAYS done so! And the refusal of ANYONE who fails to accept this must surely be a reflection of shortsightedness, egocentrism, or just simple jadedness. Because I can’t imagine anything more historically out of touch than to say that there is nothing we can do for each other! Because doing for each other is one of the only reasons humanity is still even here!

#Writer

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omgitskpop · 5 years

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X1 Yohan College AU (Part 1)

It is your freshman year of college and after two months you are finally feeling like you are getting the hang of things

You are a psychology major, and while you are not too sure what you want to do with the degree, you are super interested in the classes

Even though you are kind of shy, you have made few friends and honestly things are going pretty well

While walking to get dinner, your friends are deciding whether or not to go to an upcoming Taekwondo match

“I didn’t know you followed Taekwondo,” you said, a little surprised since you had never heard them mention it before

Your friend laughed, saying that it wasn’t taekwondo she was interested in, but one of the guys on the team

She took out her phone and pulled up an instagram page, showing you a picture of a guy who looked more like a model than an athlete

“His name is Yohan, he’s a freshman this year and got a full ride on a taekwondo scholarship,” she explained

To you that was impressive, you were only able to get half of your college paid for with the academic scholarship you received, maybe you should take up taekwondo…

The three of you agreed to watch his match next week; you had never seen a taekwondo match before so you thought it might be fun, also, it didn’t hurt that there was a cute guy competing in it

A week later, the three of you arrived at the match, and were shocked to see how many people there were, well, mostly how many girls there were

It seemed that you and your friends weren’t the only ones interested in the new athlete

When the team walked out, it didn’t take long to spot Yohan

He was tall, pale, lean, and ten times more attractive in real life

You noticed the loud cheering coming from the crowd, and you looked around to see some of the girls holding up signs with his name on it

Yohan got a lot of nudges from his teammate and he looked down sheepishly, embarrassed by the attention

However, once his match began the embarrassment was gone; it was like a totally new person had taken control of his body and his expression became serious, his eyes focused on his opponent

On the other hand, you struggled to figure out what was going on over the kicks, cheers, and constant start and stop of the fights

It wasn’t until some horn sound blew and the referee held out his hand that you realized the match was over

You looked around frantically trying to figure out who won, but with the tumultuous amount of yelling and shouting, you assumed it must have been Yohan

You applauded as well and smiled at your friends who were cheering along with the crowd

After the competition ended, the three of you walked back toward your dorms, chatting about the match

Your friends asked if you wanted to go with them to the next one, but you decided that one match was enough, you enjoyed it, but you weren’t a big enough taekwondo fan to keep going

A few weeks passes, and the attractive taekwondo player had escaped your thoughts

While you heard his name in passing, you were more concerned with the exams coming up in two weeks

Today you would be meeting some people for a group study, so you could get ready for a calculus midterm coming up

You weren't too worried, though calculus was one of your required courses, you did enjoy math and thought you were pretty decent at it

You entered the study area, waving to a few of your friends you had met in your calculus class

As you scanned the room, you noticed that there were about ten people, and one of them was strangely familiar

Sitting across from you was a very handsome guy with bunny like features

You didn’t have time to figure out where you had seen him because you were soon asked to introduce yourself

“Hey, I’m Yohan," The attractive boy introduced once his turn arose.“Sorry if I seem a little lost and confused, math isn’t my strong suit.”

A light bulb went off in your head and you remembered the taekwondo athlete you had watched a few weeks ago

You looked around to see the other girls in the group smiling at him and batting their eyes at him, but he was completely oblivious to it

You chuckled to yourself

“What?” Yohan asked, taken aback. He must of thought you were laughing at him....

“Oh, nothing! I was just remembering something funny” You insisted as everyone turned to look at you. Your cheeks turned red at the sudden attention and you looked down.

Yohan continued to stare at you with a confused expression as the group began, and the leader passed out problems

Immediately you dove into the worksheet, trying to distract yourself from Yohan’s unyielding gaze

As the group continued, you periodically glanced up to see that Yohan was getting more and more stressed as time went by, running his hand through his hair

It had been two hours now, and he was still stuck on the second page of the packet, you were now on the last

Finally, the compassion in you took over, and you couldn’t watch him suffer any longer

“Everything okay” You whispered, leaning across the table towards Yohan

Yohan looked up at you, his hair sticking out in all directions, his expression somber

“Oh, uh” He began, surprised that you had talked to him all of a sudden

“I’m fine, just a little confused.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck

“What problem? Maybe I can help.” You offered, pulling his paper towards you

He looked down embarrassed, avoiding eye contact with you

“I think I need help on all of them" he mumbled. You tried your best to hold it back, but you couldn’t help but snicker

The rest of the group looked towards the two of you, and you smiled apologetically

“Here,” you whispered, scribbling down steps to answer the problem on his paper. If you follow this formula, you should be able to solve most of the problems on the first three pages.

He looked up at you as if you had just saved his life, and for second you thought you saw tears had formed in his eyes

“Thank you so much” He whispered, and the two of you went back to work

Once three hours had passed, your study group agreed to call it a day

As you were walking out, someone caught your shoulder causing you to jump

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You turned to see Yohan standing behind you, only a foot away. You blushed and took a step back

He really was tall

“Don’t worry about it” You reassured, giving him a soft smile

“Well uhm…” He began, running his had through his hair, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink

“If you don’t mind, would you be willing to help me out some time. With the calculus I mean, and don’t worry if you don’t want to. Actually, you really shouldn’t worry about it, I’m being sel-”

“Sure” You interjected, giggling a little. You never knew the star taekwondo athlete could be so clumsy with words.

You pulled out you phone and handed it to him

“Put your number in and let me know when you are free.” You smiled, trying your best to sound clam. You could feel your heart beat in your throat and your thoughts became giddy. Who knew that being good at math would help you get to know a really cute guy.

Yohan texted you the next day, and the two of you decided to meet at a coffee shop

As your meeting dre closer, you couldn’t stop thinking about Yohan. You’d giggle each time you thought of his hair sticking up every which way as he struggled with the calculus problems. It was hard to imagine he was the same guy who was so focused and strong during the taekwondo match.

After spending an hour picking out an outfit, you walked to the cafe, arriving there fifteen minutes early. You prepared to order something and wait at a table, but suddenly stopped in your tracks.

Yohan sat by the window, resting his chin on his hand. He wore a striped button down shirt tucked into black slacks that showed-off his long legs. His hair was parted in the middle showing revealing his forehead, which somehow made him look so much more attractive than he already was

Now he really looked like a model

You started to panic as you looked at the surrounding customers who were watching him with heart eyes

What would they think when they saw you sitting with him? Wouldn’t they ridicule you, wondering how someone so boring could hang out with a guy like him.

Before you could turn tail and run, you heard Yohan call your name.

You looked to see him waving at you, a bright smile flashing across his face.

Whatever worries that were filling your mind before were gone now, you couldn’t help but smile back as you walked towards him, taking the seat across from his.

“You’re here early,” You mused and began to unpack your things

“All good students arrive to class early.” Yohan stated with confidence

You laughed at his determined face and he cocked your head at you

“Why do you keep laughing at me?” He asked, his lips forming into a pout.

“Is it because I suck at math? You probably think I’m stupid and am wondering how I even got into college in the first place.” He looked down, and you began to panic.

“No! It’s not that at all, I just thinks it’s cute how serious you are about this-” You clapped your hands over your mouth, realizing what you had just said.

Yohan snapped his head up, his cheeks flushing.

“Oh, thanks, I mean…” He trailed off. The two of you had no idea what to say.

“I’m gonna go order drinks” He offered and you nodded

Yohan rose and walked towards the counter. Once he turned away, you dropped your head onto the table, cursing yourself for being so careless. What would he think of you now? He probably thought you were some weird fan girl or something.

As you panicked by yourself, Yohan looked back at you smiling. He watched as you laid your head on the table, your hair sprawling around you.

“She’s cute,” He whispered to himself.

Once Yohan returned with drinks the two of you got started on the math problems

You worked for two hours, and you couldn’t help but giggle when Yohan finally solved a problem. Each time he would do a little victory dance in his seat as if he had just won the lottery.

Sometimes he would get a little excited when doing the problem and wouldn’t take his time to think through everything.

“Slow down Yohan, you’re skipping some of the steps,” you would nag, pulling the pencil from his hand as he scribbled fiercely.

“Hey!” He would protest, trying to hold back the smile playing on his lips.

“I almost had it.”

“No you didn’t,” you would argue, working out the problem on his paper. He would grin sheepishly before taking back his pencil and starting over again.

Once you finished, Yohan had made it through the whole packet. You couldn’t help but feel a little sad when he solved the last problem, wishing that you could spend more time with each other.

“Well I guess that’s it for today.” You announced, giving Yohan a half hearted smile.

“Yeah, thank you so much.” He responded, looking down at the table.

After an awkward pause, you rose from you seat, waving goodbye

“I’ll see you at the next study group,” you said and began to walk towards the door

“Wait!” Yohan called after you. His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you towards him. You turned to face Yohan, your cheeks on fire. He was practically holding your hand!!!

“It’s pretty late now, I’ll walk you back.” He offered, and you nodded in agreement unable speak. You glanced down at his hand that was still holding your wrist,

“Oh, sorry!” He apologized, letting go of your wrist and taking a step back.

“Let’s go” he smiled and the two of you began to walk towards the dorm.

“So…” Yohan began, after a few seconds of silence.

“I never heard what your major was.”

“Psychology,” You answered.

“Wow, that’s really interesting, do you know what you want to do with it?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I am really interested in developmental psychology. My younger brother grew up with anxiety and panic disorder. My parents didn’t really know much about mental health so they never knew what to do. I tried my best to help him, but he still had a really hard time. That's why I'm studying psychology, I want to figure out how I can help kids like him and spread awareness about mental health disorders in children- Oh sorry, did I lose you? I get excited when talking about that kind of stuff.”

Yohan looked at you, his eyes locked with yours. You had no idea what he was thinking, and you couldn’t help but notice how fast your heart was beating.

“Yohan?”

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked away, his cheeks flushing red

“Oh sorry, I was just thinking about how cool you are, I mean, how cool your aspirations are. You seem to be really passionate about it.”

You looked up at him surprised. This was one of the first times someone had said something like that to you. Most people just told you that you talked too much, or that the job market for psychologists was way to small.

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, your heart warm.

“Don’t mention it,”

“What about you?” You asked after a brief pause.

“Oh, me? I’m not really sure yet, I’m undecided right now. Lame right?” Yohan admitted, his voice small.

“What, no it’s not!” You defended, hating the defeated look on his face.

Yohan looked at you shocked.

“You are only 20, how are you supposed to know what to do with your life!? If anything, I think being undecided is even cooler. There are so many things you can do, so many opportunities. If anything it means you have no limits!”

...... “Oh, sorry, I guess I got a little fired up,” you apologized, embarrassed

Yohan began to laugh, and soon you were laughing with him, and before you knew it, the two of you were infront of your dorm.

“Thanks, that really meant a lot.” He smiled, two two of you just starred at each other. Then, without warning, Yohan wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

You stood there in shock, praying that he couldn't feel how fast your heart was beating

After a second or two, Yohan jumped back, his face the color of a tomato

“I am so sorry about that! I don’t know why I just did that, it’s just that I was really grateful for today and everything you have done for me and-”

“It’s okay.” You interrupted, smiling.

“I’m glad I could help.” You waved at him and walked to your dorm, your legs like jello. You didn’t look back at him, worried he would see how red you were.

What the heck just happened?

#Yohan au #Yohan college au #Yohan college imagine #Yohan scenario #Yohan fluff #Yohan cute #X1 au #x1 college au #x1 scenario #x1 fluff #x1 cute #x1 college imagine #x1 imagine

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eternalnight8806-3 · 5 years

Note

60 :3

OMG LOOK I’M BACK!!!!!! IT ONLY TOOK ALMOST 9 MONTHS BUT I’M HERE WITH SOMETHING NEW FOR YOU GUYS!

I’m just gonna call this Dya’s Prompt because I suck at coming up with titles so there ya go.

Note: The baby’s name roughly translates to “dark snow”.

Category: SFW, One shot, canon continuation, fluff

Word Count: 2,013

Pairing: InuKag

Rating: T for language

I’d like to thank @cstorm86 for pushing me and helping me to finish this. It’s not my best, but it’s here and right now that’s what’s important.

Also tagging: @keichanz @noviceotakus-blog @hinezumi @morikothehalfangel

If you want to be added to my tag list, please let me know.

I hope you all enjoy!

Dya’s Prompt

(You’d be a great dad)

The

time since returning to the feudal era had seemed like nothing to

Kagome. Before she knew what was happening, two whole years had passed.

She and InuYasha had married soon after her return, this being the

happiest day of both of their lives. Until now.

she looked down at the face of her newborn daughter, Miyukiyoru, Kagome

couldn’t help but smile. She was exhausted beyond anything she’d ever

felt before, having had an intense 18 hour labor to deliver the treasure

she held in her arms, but the happiness she felt was the strongest in

her memory. Claw tipped hands came into her view, stroking back the

wispy silver hairs from their daughter’s face and tentatively touching

one of the tiny triangular ears atop her head. The resemblance to her

father was uncanny, with one major difference. Her ears were jet black, a

stark contrast from her pure white hair. InuYasha leaned in and kissed

the foreheads of both of his girls, the smile on his face telling Kagome

all she needed to know.

The

first few weeks after Miyukiyoru’s birth were a whirlwind of activity.

InuYasha always made sure to get up with her at night whenever possible,

knowing he could get by with less sleep than his wife. When Kagome had

told him about bottle feeding and pumping breast milk from her time, he

and some of the village women had fashioned a few makeshift bottles from

animal hide, complete with removable nipples for the baby to suckle

from. Kagome always purified these before filling them with milk

throughout the day to ensure her baby’s health.

She

was able to pump using these same bottles and a wonderful contraption

Miroku had somehow managed to scrape together, though she had no idea

how the thing actually accomplished what it did. She was grateful for

the respite and she loved that InuYasha could experience the bond of

feeding his child like she could.

This

particular night, about 4 weeks after her birth, was a tumultuous night

for the new parents, however. Miyukiyoru would not stop crying no

matter what the couple tried. She wailed deep into the night, frazzling

the nerves of even the ever patient Kagome. She was nearly in tears

herself when a miracle happened as she stood a helpless onlooker,

listening to her beloved speak softly to their daughter.

“…

didn’t like eachother very much at first, you know. She was this spit

ball of fiery energy that stood in the way of me getting the Jewel of

Four Souls. This was gonna make me a full fledged demon, ya know.

Something your daddy thought he always wanted,” he looked up at Kagome

then, “until your momma showed me I didn’t need to change who I am to be

worthy of love.”

Kagome stood, astonished, as slowly Miyukiyoru slowly stopped crying and started listening intently to her father’s story.

“…I

woke up on that tree after 50 years with your momma pressed against me,

smelling like the sweetest flower to ever grace the Earth, though I

wouldn’t tell her that for a long time. She looked a lot like the woman

who pinned me to that tree, so I was angry and bitter at her for a long

time, until she beat some sense into me.”

Kagome

smiled as she listened. She no longer minded being reminded that she

looked like her previous life, Kikyo. She had long ago let go of those

feelings of jealousy and regret. InuYasha had more than proven to her

that she was his choice, not someone who was thrust upon him by chance

or simply second best to his former love.

“…So

your momma took that claw and attached it to the arrow, she’s so

clever, isn’t she?” InuYasha winked at his wife, making Kagome barely

stifle a giggle. “But when the arrow hit that damn bird it shattered the

Jewel into a whole bunch of teeny tiny shards and scattered them all

across the country. And thus began our year long journey to find them,

and defeat Naraku,”

Miyukiyoru’s

eyes lit up when he spoke Naraku’s name and she cooed happily. Kagome

rolled her eyes. She’s going to be a little reckless fighter, just like

her daddy, and Kagome wouldn’t have had it any other way. She slowly

lowered herself down onto the futon and curled up to listen to her

husband tell the story of their adventure to their baby girl. It was

around the point that Kagome met Sesshomaru for the first time that

Miyukiyoru finally closed her eyes and slept.

Slowly,

InuYasha placed the tiny bundle down in her makeshift bassinet and

backed away from her tentatively, almost expecting her to begin howling

again. He slumped down next to Kagome and sighed.

“Geez,

when a little brat can even wear out a half demon it makes me wonder

how you damn humans do this,” he teased as he wrapped his arms around

her and pulled her to his chest. Kagome chuckled softly.

“Patience, young padawan. You will learn the secrets in time.”

InuYasha’s eyebrow quirked. “Padawan?”

Smiling,

Kagome shook her head. “Nevermind. Go to sleep, while you still can,”

she retorted before curling up against him and closing her eyes for that

much needed sleep.

The

next night was more of the same. Miyukiyoru just would not go to sleep

no matter what they did. So finally, InuYasha decided to continue his

story from the previous night, if only to test his theory.

“Alright

babygirl, wanna hear about your asshole uncle Sesshomaru?” In response,

she giggled and raised her arms out towards her father’s face. Smiling,

he began his tale again. “So, there we all were, your momma,

Sesshomaru, the toad Jaken, and me, all inside my dad’s, your

grandpapa’s, bones in this huge demon graveyard.” InuYasha laid her down

in her bassinet but didn’t stop talking. If anything, he became more

excited, using his hands to express his excitement. Miyukiyoru never

took her eyes from him as he walked around her telling the tale.

“He

wanted Tetsusaiga, see. He’d wanted it ever since dad had died all

those years ago. But see, your grandpapa was much smarter than your

uncle and wanted your daddy to have it because he knew that Uncle Stick

In The Mud would never be able to use it properly, atleast not until he

learned some compassion. So, he went through all that just to get this,”

InuYasha pulled Tetsusaiga from it’s sheath, revealing it to his

daughter for the first time in all it’s glory. Her eyes widened and she

cooed as she watched him lightly swing it around.

“But

Uncle Sessy couldn’t even touch the sword, babygirl. Full demons can’t

touch it because of a special barrier your grandpapa put on it to

protect it. He was so mad when he discovered that, he attacked your

papa, because we didn’t really get along real good back then. Amidst all

our fighting we didn’t even hardly notice your momma and when she

pulled the sword from it’s spot in that rock your Uncle Sessy nearly had

a heart attack I think.” Miyukiyoru giggled at that.

“He

went after momma then, attacking her with his poison claws. If not for

Tetsusaiga she would’ve died right then. But this sword protected her,

because that’s what it’s meant for babygirl. Protecting the ones we

love, so long as we have compassion. Your uncle and I had a big fight

after that, and I transformed Tetsusaiga for the first time that day,

though it would be a while before I figured out how I’d done it. Your

momma knew though, because she’s always been smarter than me.”

Kagome

smiled to herself. She loved hearing him talk to their daughter, even

about battles and swords. She couldn’t help but sit quietly herself and

listen to him tell the familiar tale. The way he told it had her

riveted. She’d never known he was such a good storyteller.

“…sliced

him right through his arm, cutting it right off!” InuYasha sliced the

air with his sword to emphasis his point, pulling a loud ‘ooooo’ from

his baby. “Uncle Sessy ran away with his tail between his legs. I don’t

think he ever expected your daddy to actually be able to injure him like

that. But I did, babygirl. And that’s how I ended up with Tetsusaiga.”

He looked down after that to find she had finally drifted off to sleep.

He sheathed his sword and stuck it in its usual place by the door.

“You know, she’s gonna be so spoiled with you talking to her like that,” Kagome teased quietly.

“Keh.

She’s my daughter. She can be as spoiled as she wants to be, so long as

she can hold a sword,” he quipped back as he settled down next to her.

“With you as her father, how could she not?”

InuYasha

looked seriously into his wife’s chocolate eyes. “I want to be there

for her, always. I never want her to have the life I had. She’s too

precious for that.”

Kagome

took his face in her hands. “She won’t. Nothing is going to happen to

us, InuYasha. Our village is relatively safe, considering. Besides, with

a demon slayer and a trained monk as her godparents, nothing is getting

near her even if something did, which it won’t.”

InuYasha

grabbed her hands and smiled at her tentatively. “Yeah. I know. I just

worry s'all. The thought of her growing up the way I did makes my

stomach churn. I know I ain’t gonna be the best dad, but I still want to

be here, ya know?”

Kagome’s

lips pursed in an angry scowl. “Listen here, InuYasha. I don’t ever

want you to say that again, you hear me? You are the best goddamn father

that baby girl could ever hope for. And anyone who says different will

have me to deal with. You understand me?”

Smiling,

InuYasha simply nodded before settling down and pulling her down with

him. “Go to sleep, wife. Or else you won’t have the energy to fight all

these naysayers.”

From

that night on, InuYasha told his daughter the tale of the Jewel of Four

Souls, it becoming their nightly ritual. Whenever she refused to quiet,

the story would always hush her, but only if daddy told it. Every time

Kagome tried, she just cried harder. Kagome didn’t mind, however. She

thoroughly enjoyed seeing InuYasha spend time with their baby. The story

was theirs and theirs alone, and she respected that.

Every

night InuYasha became more brazen with his story telling, including

Tetsusaiga more and more, much to the delight of his daughter and the

chagrin of his wife. Kagome made him promise never to actually use any

of his attacks while telling the story, only using the sword as a prop.

She often had to remind him of this mid-swing of his sword. He loved to

get carried away, if it made his babygirl smile.

Three

months passed before he concluded the story for the first time, ending

it with his marriage to Kagome. As he settled her down into the crib he

had just finished making for her, Kagome wrapped her arms around his

waist and pressed her cheek against his back. He squeezed her hands

before turning around in her arms and wrapping her up in his own.

“You know what?” She whispered to him.

“Hmmm?” He mumbled back to her.

Kagome

looked up into his golden eyes, “Even when you were trying to take the

jewel from me and acting recklessly all those years ago, I always knew

you’d be a great father. And I’ll tell you everyday until the day I die

if I have to to get you to believe it.”

Smiling, InuYasha dipped his head and brushed her lips with his own. “I believe you, wench.”

#asks #dyaz stories #my writing #inuyasha #kagome #one shot #inukag #inukag one shot #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction #dyas prompt #fluff

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andrewdburton · 3 years

Text

My 2020 in review: Steps in the right direction

Are you all ready for this? It's one of my favorite days of the year! I just spent an hour entering data in Quicken, then another thirty minutes analyzing it. It's time to run some numbers.

How well did I do with my financial goals last year? Was I able to cut back on dining out? (Hint: There was a global pandemic. What do you think?) Did my net worth rise or fall? Let's take a look.

First, let's review where I was at the end of 2019.

Quite simply, I was a mess. Objectively, my life was good, but subjectively it was a disaster. My mental health was in shambles. Depression and anxiety were crippling me and truly affecting my relationships with other people. I felt like I was in the middle of a prolonged car crash.

The good news is that, for the most part, 2020 was much better from a personal perspective. Yes, I understand that 2020 sucked for a lot of people. And it was the most tumultuous year our country has seen in a generation. But for me, personally, the year was mostly good. I'll explain why this is in a bit, but first lets look at the Big Picture.

My Net Worth

Here's my end-of-year net worth from each of the past three years. (These numbers do not include the value of my business or this website.)

At the end of 2018, my net worth was $1,334,227 — a 15.2% decrease from 2017.

At the end of 2019, my net worth was $1,437,543 — a 7.7% increase from 2018.

At the end of 2020, my net worth was $1,373,233 — a 4.5% decrease from 2019.

Now, on paper a decrease of net worth amounting to $64,310 might seem scary. Maybe it's because I'm in a better mental space than last year, but it doesn't bother me. This may also be due to the fact that I realize most of that drop comes from Zillow's valuation of our home.

At the end of 2019, Zillow said our country cottage was worth $495,749. At the end of 2020, the home was valued at $437,127, which is a drop of $58,622.

Yes, I realize using Zillow to track our home value is…erratic. And it leads to fluctuations like this. Still, I feel like it's a solid enough source for home values, and it gives me some sort of number to go on.

That's one way of looking at it. But looked at another way, things are a little dicier. You see, I currently live off of my investments. Most of those investments are in retirement accounts, which I can't touch (unless I want a tax penalty) for another eight years. At the start of 2019, my regular taxable investment accounts contained $269,264. Today, they have $197,117. That there could also be my drop in net worth.

One thing is certain, though. That $197,117 isn't enough to get me to age 59-1/2 at my current level of spending. I need to spend less, earn more, or (preferably) both.

Now, let's look at some of the numbers in greater detail.

Note I'm still tracking my money in Quicken 2007. I continue to try new money apps but none of them is as good as this clunky old program.

Having said that, I didn't track my spending from May 12th to October 1st last year. I wasn't spending anything, so I thought the process was pointless. (In retrospect, I wish I had continue to track the numbers because they would have made a good baseline.) Because of this break, I have no way to know exactly what I spent over the course of the entire year. But I do have complete numbers for the first quarter (mostly pre-COVID) and the last quarter.

Food Spending

A year ago, I declared that my financial goal for 2020 was to spend less on food. I'm pleased to report that I achieved this goal although I had some help from a global pandemic. The COVID crisis kept me (and most people) at home. Yes, we did eat out now and then, but it was rare. And it was outside, when possible.

Here's my food spending from 2020.

From January to March, I spent $1700.91 on food (or about $566.97 per month). Of this, $1189.28 ($396.42 per month) was on groceries and $498 ($166 per month) was on dining out.

From October to December, I spent $1751.26 on food (or about $583.75 per month). Of this, $1427.81 ($475.94 per month) was on groceries and $323.45 (107.82 per month) was on dinging out.) I should also note that the bulk of this food spending was in December ($663.32 on groceries, $92.00 on our only restaurant meal, and $755.62 total).

So, yay! I met my goal! My monthly food spending dropped from $1053.28 in 2019 to $575.36 in 2020. If I had tracked the stats during the middle of the year, that number would be even lower.

To put things into perspective, here's a tiny spreadsheet comparing my monthly food spending over the last four years. Numbers from 2019 are incomplete. And numbers from last year are for the first quarter and laster quarter combined. (Again, data is missing for the middle of the year.)

That looks like some solid progress to me.

And you know what? I'm willing to bet that a big part of that drop in spending is because I drank less alcohol in 2020. Technically, I don't want my alcohol spending to appear as “food”. I have a separate category for booze. In reality, I'm lazy and I rarely separate beer and wine purchases from other grocery purchases. So, I think some of that drop in food spending is because I was drinking less.

Let's talk a little more about that.

Booze Spending

Perhaps the biggest win for me in 2020 — financially and otherwise — was my decreased dependence on alcohol.

I had two stints last year during which I was alcohol free: January 1st to mid-February, then Independence Day to Halloween. And since I “fell off the wagon” at the end of October, I've done fairly good about minimizing my alcohol intake. (I refuse to keep whiskey or wine in the house. If I'm truly craving a beer, I drive to the store to buy one. Or two. This policy has really helped me cut down on how much I consume.)

In 2019, I was spending roughly $200 each month on alcohol. In 2018, this was closer to $300 per month. Holy cats! In 2020, I spent zero on alcohol for half the year. During the six months I tracked my expenses last year, I spent a total of $227.07 on booze — $37.85 per month.

My marijuana expense was also down. Pot is cheaper than alcohol in the first place, but I was also trying to reduce my use of weed while I was trying to cut out alcohol. I spent maybe $20 a month on the stuff in 2020.

As an added benefit, by cutting out alcohol I was better able to lose weight. I'm currently down more than 25 pounds since July. (I want to lose another five or ten pounds, then turn my attention to building strength once more.)

Best of all? My mental health improved! In September and October, after being alcohol-free for a few months, I was enjoying peak performance. I was happier and more productive than I have been in years. This benefit to reduced alcohol use is the best benefit of all and the one most likely to keep me away from the stuff.

Now, as I mentioned, I've resumed drinking some. I've had four beers in the past week, for instance (including New Year's). For now, I'm okay with this. My mental and physical health seem great at this level of consumption. But there's still a chance I'll opt to give up the stuff completely for an extended period of time. (I have a sticky note on my work computer with a question that Tom asked me in October: “What's the postive for you in using alcohol and pot?” Great question.)

Big Spending

The sorest spot in my budget over the past few years has been big expenses. In 2015, I spent $35,000 on an RV. In 2017, we sold the condo and bought this country cottage, then poured money into repairs and upgrades. In 2018, we spent more on remodeling.

Well, last year didn't have any major home expenses but I did replace my Mini Cooper, at long last.

At the end of June, I spent $40,000 on a 2019 Mini Countryman SE All4. This seemed like a good idea at the time. In retrospect, the purchase wasn't the smartest move. The car is fine — it's not great but it's not bad — and I enjoy driving it. I especially like that most of my driving is now electric (and that I'm averaging 53 miles per gallon.) But I don't drive often enough or value vehicles enough to justify having spent this much on a car.

I don't want to say this was a dumb move…but I think it was probably a dumb move.

Time will tell.

Looking ahead, 2021 should have zero large expenses. I hope. We've performed all of the repairs and upgrades we need to do on the house. (I say that, yet I'm worried about the foundation settling.) I just bought a car. My health is good. We have no big trips planned. Our food spending seems to be under control. I have high hopes that 2021 will, at long last, be a year without major outlays. Fingers crossed!

Final Thoughts

Honestly, nothing else about my spending worries me. There were a couple of categories that saw increases last year — books and movies — but this doesn't bother me. COVID has led me to read more and to watch more shows. These forms of entertainment are relatively inexpensive. All the same, I'll keep an eye out to be sure my book and movie spending doesn't become problematic.

Here are a couple of final thoughts after crunching the numbers.

My new electric hybrid is amazing when it comes to fuel costs. It has an electric range of roughly 16 miles. That doesn't seem like much, but it coveres 90% of my driving. I'm getting 53 miles per gallon overall. I last put gas in the tank on November 8th and it's still half full. (The downside is that it only gets about 23 mpg when using the combustion engine.) My fuel expense has dropped from $100/month to $20/month.

My spending on streaming services boomed at the end of 2020, but part of that is because I'm researching and writing a GRS article on the subject. Three TV-replacement services totals $200/month! But I only had those for one month. (And, in retrospect, I should have made them a business expense.)

The bottom line? Last year was pretty good for me. I'm certainly starting 2021 in a much better mental state than I started 2020. Things aren't perfect but are they ever? I have a good life, an amazing partner in Kim, and I'm currently enjoying the work I'm doing here at Get Rich Slowly and at my newly-revived personal site.

Looking ahead, I don't have any specific personal financial goals. I guess that I want to increase my income. To that end, I'll continue channeling my renewed focus on this website.

2020 was a mixed bag for the business side of Get Rich Slowly. The initial expenses in re-acquiring the site have been paid, so my costs were a lot lower last year. That said, so was revenue. The site earned something like $72,000 (before expenses) in 2019. In 2020, that fell to about $30,000.

Some of my colleagues make big bucks from their blogs. I don't. I'm okay with that, though, because I recognize that many of the decisions I make are deliberately reader-centric, which means I'm foregoing easy money. Still, it would be nice to boost revenue so that I could draw income from the work I do here. Let's see what that looks like going forward…

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/my-2020-in-review/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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inkbucket · 4 years

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On Civil Disobedience

A good friend of mine sent me this article the other day as a summary of what he believed about civil disobedience, and I disagreed with that position strongly enough to write a fairly lengthy (ok, an absurdly long) response. This is not an abstract philosophical question in my particular community right now because many Christians are actively protesting the mask and social distancing orders, which they believe to be unconstitutional and un-American, by intentionally breaking the law right in front of police officers. When the officers attempted to cite them, they refused to show ID and/or argued with the police long enough to apparently count as resisting and obstructing justice and were led away in handcuffs, which caused a bit of a national media scene. So here we go:

If I had to summarize the article, it would be “Romans 13 No Longer Applies Because ‘Murica.” The first thing this article does is create a straw man and knock it around a bit - as far as I’m aware, no major Christian thinker has ever taught that obeying the magistrate is absolute and extends even to the point where Christians must commit murder or other sins when commanded by the magistrate. The position of the church has always been that when asked to sin by a magistrate, Christians must obey God rather than man. I can’t think of anyone who has ever taught that the fact that Christians are supposed to obey the magistrate morally justifies the magistrate’s actions, either (e.g. Joseph Stalin’s purges). The author is a historian, so it’s a bit surprising that he apparently doesn’t know the historic position of the church.

His next point is to argue that because America was founded as a constitutional republic, if the powers that be violate that constitution then Christians have no moral obligation to obey them. This is interesting because Paul wrote Romans under Nero, and the gradual failure of the roman republic was recent enough that the conspiracy that would later “trigger” Nero and start all the craziness had members who wanted to get rid of emperors and restore the republic. Augustus and Tiberius went to great lengths to keep up the fiction that Rome was still a republic, though that had tapered off by the time of Nero. So the emperors had gradually swallowed all the power and destroyed Rome’s historic form of republican government. But the Christians Paul and Peter wrote to were still supposed to obey and even honor them:

The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, whoever rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves. (Romans 13)

Submit yourselves for the Lord's sake to every human authority: whether to the emperor, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right. For it is God's will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish people. Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as God's slaves. Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor. (1 Peter 2)

So if Trump were to fulfill the liberals’ worst nightmares and declare himself Emperor Trump and an American Emperor eventually became the status quo, at some point we’d be called to believe that the Trump dynasty was established by God and submit to their authority. And a Christian who tried to assassinate emperor Trumpius IV and restore the constitution would be in the wrong. Right now, however, the constitution is the highest law of the land and receives at least lip service from the powers that be, so I agree with the author that it’s a fine way to call authorities to account - but it’s not a magic document and if it ever becomes clear that the constitution has been overthrown, our duty of civil obedience would eventually transfer to whoever did the overthrowing.

But in the messy period OF the overthrowing, who would we owe obedience to? That’s a good segway to his next argument, which is that because in America the power has been distributed between three branches of government, there will be conflicting commands and hence Romans 13 doesn’t apply. His opinion seems to be that America is special, as if never before in the history of the world have there been different magistrates stepping on each others’ toes. This argument can be disproved by pretty much any history book you pick up - communication was expensive in the ancient world and governors of far-flung provinces often had lots of leeway and not a lot of oversight and sometimes rebelled against the central government. Even in the trial of Jesus (and later of Paul) we see the tension and power balance between the judeo-hellenistic heredity kings (the Herods) and the roman-appointed governor (Pilate). Then you have tribunes and centurions carrying out their orders more-or-less accurately on the ground, with the result that, even though there was a single Emperor far away, I’m betting actual enforcement of law was far more arbitrary and less monolithic than today.

So choosing which magistrate to obey has always been necessary, and the apostles’ audience would have had to try to make wise decisions in the messy, tumultuous age they lived in (just as we do now). This article’s argument that it’s impossible to obey Romans 13 at all if you have more than one legitimate authority is ridiculous. As far as choosing which to obey, Peter is careful to rank civic authority so in general I think we should seek the highest authority in the sphere under question to obey.

In the case of a successful Chinese invasion or coup, etc, I think God would allow us the benefit of the doubt in the messy transition period until a clear winner emerged, and until then I certainly hope we’d be shooting invaders/coupers with AR-15s.

But who’s in charge isn’t the issue right now - I think we’d all agree that we have legitimate local, state and federal governments. As far as the “problem of federalism” argument: choosing whether to obey Trump’s tweets or legitimately passed state and local legislation doesn’t require much wisdom, I think. And in cases like Kootenai where the sheriff says you don’t have to mask up even if your city tells you that you to, it’s also pretty obvious (given that he outranks city law enforcement and there’s no state-wide mask law above him to consider).

Now his next claim “Michigan courts needed private citizens and businesses to challenge Whitmer’s orders before they could act. Citizens had to go first.” requires a bit of research: here and here.

Unless I’m missing something, none of the plaintiffs in that document actually broke the law. There was a man who wanted a knee surgery and some doctors who wanted to do it for him but couldn’t legally. So they sued and won, and I 100% support their action. Christians aren’t supposed to sue one another, but our government allows lawsuits against the government as a form of redress and there’s nothing wrong with taking advantage of that right that comes along with our citizenship.

So, given that the lawsuit that actually broke the governor’s seizure of power didn’t actually require civil disobedience, his claim about it being absolutely necessary seems pretty hollow.

Civil disobedience shows up in scripture as the nuclear option - like the people of Israel refusing to let a deranged Saul kill Jonathan for no good reason. If someone is about to be murdered in front of you, then that’s an excellent time to consider civil disobedience.

But that’s not happening yet, and in our case we have multiple avenues of recourse - lawsuits, referendums, recalls, state laws, etc - we have many ways to seek justice while working within the law and without rebelling against any authority that God’s set over us. By using the term “right to protest”, the article attempts to conflate “right to peacefully assemble” with “right to ignore laws we believe are illegal based on higher laws”, but the latter is never guaranteed by the constitution or anywhere else. If a law is really illegal, then prove it in the courts! Sometimes we’ll be right (like Michigan), and sometimes (as in the very disappointing Supreme Court decision against the church in Nevada) we’ll be wrong, and something that sure seems like it should be illegal is ruled legal.

At that point, do we decide that our private interpretation of the constitution outranks that of the Supreme Court and disobey anyway? Or do we take the injustice as Christ calling us to suffer, and do our best to suck it up and suffer joyfully? “But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.” (1 Peter 2:18)

That’s the end of the article, but since this has turned into a novel anyway, I’d like to throw in seven additional random musings about this situation:

First, we expect a child to obey their parents when said parents ask them to do something dumb but not immoral. We expect a wife to obey her husband when he asks her to do something dumb but not immoral. So why is it that when as citizens we’re asked to do something dumb but not immoral, we fly off the handle and start getting pretty theatrical? It’s like submission is all well and good as long as it’s someone else who’s being called to do the submitting.

Second, in the case of Daniel refusing to obey the blatantly immoral command of Nebuchadnezzar to pray to no one else, how does he go about it? Daniel 6 gives quite a bit of detail - he went to his upstairs room where the windows faced Jerusalem and continued to do exactly what he did before. Presumably the windows were still open, so he wasn’t embarrassed about what he was doing. But he did exactly what he had done before… he didn’t march into the throne room and start praying in public right before the king to make a statement, and then get very offended when he was led away in handcuffs. So if a swat team enters through an open church door on Sunday and arrests us all singing psalms, that seems like the proper way to get arrested.

Third, and on that note, we are commanded to meet together with other Christians outside our immediate household, so if the government really prevents that for an extended period then we’re required to disobey. And I believe that if they did sneaky things like requiring us to file a Request to Worship form with a 6-month waiting period before we’re allowed to interact with another Christian face-to-face, that would count as preventing worship. But I don’t believe that the existing fire codes which regulate a church building’s maximum occupancy are preventing worship, even though they are examples of the government controlling how many of us can worship together under one roof. So somewhere between those extremes is the point where we start disobeying, and that’s a question for careful thought and prayer. If we need to split up and worship in groups of 20 for a few years in individual houses, might not God use that for good? Under persecution Christians have done that sort of thing for thousands of years and the Church has often thrived in those circumstances.

Fourth, I’m pretty sure the devil giggles every time he hears the phrase “flexing my muscles” or “tip of the spear” being used. Those catchphrases seem an awful lot like excuses to not believe the best about other folks as loving your neighbor requires (since magistrates are people too). As long as there’s a reasonable chance that they’re going to leave us alone (like if the police get called to our churches multiple times but refuse to enter, for example), that seems like a great opportunity to believe the best about them… that maybe they’ll continue to leave us alone. Arguments supporting aggressive red-pill Christianity are mostly pragmatic - the bad things that will happen if we don’t do such-and-such RIGHT NOW and get the jump on the bad guys… but it’s important to remember that we’re responsible for our actions and not the the outcome of our actions: our job is just to obey God, and let Him worry about the outcome.

Fifth, because of our actions, the reputation of our local police department has been unjustly savaged in the national media. I ran into the wife of a police officer the other day and asked her how her husband was doing - she said he’d spent the week after the protest getting yelled at by angry people calling in from all over the country. As far as I can tell, though, the police didn’t actually do anything wrong - they calmly and professionally enforced a law on the books. I certainly hope that this particular law will get shut down soon through lawsuit or referendum, etc - but it hasn’t yet, and whether it will be eventually ruled unjust and nullified is an open question. If we allow misconceptions about what actually happened to exist unchallenged, then we’re complicit in the damage done to our police department’s reputation.

Sixth, the current arguments in favor of civil disobedience go against the teaching of Augustine, Luther and Calvin, and whenever those three guys agree on anything, we’d best pay attention. The Lutheran position is the best developed and makes allowances for lesser magistrates to interpose themselves against higher magistrates and then for individual Christians to choose to follow the lesser magistrate instead of the greater (but all this only justified in pretty extreme cases). But the Lutheran position never allows people as individuals to judge the law and refuse to obey it (unless, of course, the law requires them to sin).

Seventh, civil disobedience in the current circumstances has been framed as being a disagreement over whether a particular tactic was used wisely or not, and thus subject to Christian liberty. To me, it’s more akin to the issue of whether we should have female pastors or allow homosexuality in the church - it’s a question of “do you believe the plain reading of the Scriptures, or do you play the not-culturally-relevant card and nullify the commandment of God with the tradition of men?” So I think it’s important we work through this together and sort this stuff out.

On that note, I firmly believe that every time you unfriend another Christian on Facebook, the devil wins. Cutting people out of your life entirely is the world’s current therapy for dealing with disagreement, but it’s diametrically opposed to the Christian “love your enemy”, which treats even your enemy as another person, made in the image of God, and desires their good. And if we’re supposed to love our enemies, how much more our brothers and sisters in Christ! However, loving someone sometimes means speaking hard words to them - to use an extreme case, loving a meth addict or an alcoholic will often be offensive (to them) and a messy business for everyone. But that’s the sort of good mess we’re called to.

When other Christians are believing and teaching things that are clearly in error when held up to the word of God, being silent sometimes isn’t loving them (e.g. Paul rebuking Peter). Though sometimes, being silent in the face of error is exactly what we’re called to (e.g. the Christian wife with an unbelieving husband). So your relationship to the other person does matter and define what is and isn’t appropriate. But remember, changing people’s hearts is a job for the Holy Spirt and the Scriptures, not dependent on our arguments or cleverness. Doing our best to please God in the way we interact with other people (whether speaking out or staying silent), and trusting Him for the outcome, lets us avoid the strident, angry tone that’s so common out there right now.

I’ll leave you with another passage from 1 Peter - this is what we’re shooting for in our interaction with the world. We need to conform to the examples we’ve been given in order to be able to say with a clean conscience “I have shown you many good works from the Father. For which of these do you stone me?” (John 10:32) and “I have done nothing wrong against the Jewish law or against the temple or against Caesar.” (Acts 25:8).

And who is he who will harm you if you become followers of what is good? But even if you should suffer for righteousness' sake, you are blessed. "And do not be afraid of their threats, nor be troubled." But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts, and always be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks you a reason for the hope that is in you, with meekness and fear; having a good conscience, that when they defame you as evildoers, those who revile your good conduct in Christ may be ashamed. For it is better, if it is the will of God, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil. (1 Peter 3)

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lowat-golden-tower · 7 years

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Embracing Darkness

I just wanna take a moment and thank you guys for all the kind words, be they in tags, asks or comments on AO3. You can ask @alcordraws, I was hella nervous about this fic when I started writing it. I wasn’t confident in the writing or characterization at all.

But now those fears are gone and I’ve gotten completely sucked into the thick of it! We’re not getting off this ride just yet, my friends. It’s all downhill from here... buckle up, buttercups. We’re going in.

AO3 Mirror

Chapter 3: Analyzing

Dark would admit, he'd been a little reckless.

After the first outburst during the meeting, he should have known simply flooding Yandere with his aura would result in uncontrollable chaos. His aura was a powerful, ancient thing. There was a reason it had attached itself to him and never leeched onto another ego. A majority of them wouldn't be able to handle it. Just a smidgen of Dark's influence, and they crumbled.

The more powerful egos, the reality benders like himself, could possibly wrangle the beast. Dark wouldn't know. He'd never give any of them the opportunity to try. The darkness was his to master, his to control, and his to utilize as he saw fit.

Yandere was different.

Dark could feel it. Something about the ego called to his aura. Something dark and demented and utterly twisted. Perhaps it was the part of himself Dark often saw in Yandere. The schemer, the conniver, the manipulator. Determined to accomplish his goals no matter the cost. That kind of hunger was precisely what called the aura to him in the first place.

Yet Dark's resolve remained. His determination and willpower were stronger; his cause greater. He was not afraid of Yandere stealing his aura away. The ego didn't even understand what was happening. He was just another pawn on the chess board before Dark. A pawn which had been elevated to something more valuable.

If Dark could simply harness this potential Yandere had, the possibilities would truly be endless. A puppet with powers similar to his own but trapped firmly beneath his thumb. Someone powerful he could direct without backtalk or questioning. He could still remember that surge of energy that nearly bowled him over during the meeting.

It was... thrilling. Enticing. Dark wanted more of it. He wanted it as his own.

He just had to be a little smarter about it. He'd gotten impatient and excited and paid the consequences. Hopefully, Yandere's nature would incite the same naivety it always did. No more looming or oppressive stunts. Dark was going to pull himself back, draw himself up and wield the persona Mark had laid the groundwork for. Yandere, while complex in personality, was simple in motivation and mind. A few key words and the ego would be putty in his hands.

Thus, throughout the week that followed, Dark put into motion his latest plans. Rather than confronting Yandere while he was alone or sending the full force of his aura crashing over the young ego like some ocean wave, he kept his influence minimal.

In the hallways, Dark would brush past Yandere as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all. He'd allow a bit of his energy to seep into Yandere as he passed, but otherwise go about his merry way. Yandere never reacted in an extreme, though Dark noticed the longer he did it, the more tense Yandere seemed to become. By the end of the week, he would twitch the moment Dark entered the vicinity.

That wasn't all, though.

Dark crossed paths with Yandere in the break room several more times. Occasionally by pure accident, but mostly on purpose. He would hunt Yandere down and wiggle a bit of his aura into Yandere's personal space. Only he was aware of it, so even if other egos were present (which was rare), no one had a clue he was up to anything. If Yandere proceeded to jerk about or breathe heavier or grasp tightly at whatever he was holding, well, it was just Yandere being his usual, unstable self.

It wasn't just the break room. After the first day or two, Dark had taken to hunting Yandere down everywhere. Sometimes, he wouldn't even reveal himself. He would track Yandere to his room, or a lounge, or one of the board rooms. He would follow him outside and to the roof and the basement, lurking in the shadows.

Wherever he went, whenever he found Yandere, he would push forth another sliver of his power. It almost became a sort of game. One Yandere was completely unaware of. The only egos who seemed to notice the shift in Dark's behavior were Wilford, who was always the first to notice if Dark was off; Google, who had eyes everywhere; Host, being Dark's right hand man and wisened by his visions and narrations; and Artie, simply because he was the only other person who willingly interacted with Yandere.

Dark had no idea what the extent of their relationship was. It appeared to be a tumultuous, tremulous thing. A weakly held together friendship supplemented with arts and crafts and gossip and whispers of the influences in their lives: senpai, and Red Man. (Dark was still trying to figure out who the latter was, much to his chagrin.)

However, none of them confronted him about his strange behavior. Either they were too frightened, or they didn't see any harm in it. There were always perks to being subtle; to taking the slow and steady route. It took time, and patience, but Dark was seeing more significant results than mere twitching and muttering by the week's halfway point.

Once, at the beginning of a meeting, Dark had drifted past Yandere as the ego was walking into the room. One little push and he seemed to tip over an edge; far smaller than the first two instances, but still a sign Dark's manipulations were having an effect. Yandere had turned to Artie, who'd been walking beside him, and thrown him into the nearest wall with absolutely no warning at all. He'd screamed, rambling about how Artie "wasn't his senpai," and then ran from the room after bursting into violent tears.

Artie had been alright besides a few bruises. He looked shaken and upset but that was merely a bonus for Dark. He'd ignored the way Host's face followed him through the room for the duration of the meeting and decided he wanted to see if he could make it happen again.

He'd succeeded. The very next day, Dark had found Yandere out in the lot behind the building. He was picking dandelions and humming to himself; the picture of peace and serenity. To any unknowing onlooker, Yandere could have passed for just an innocent schoolgirl- er, boy. It was instances like these Dark admired Yandere's ability to pose as nothing more than an angel. Were it not for Yandere's inability to maintain the charade once he'd snapped, Dark might actually have felt intimidated.

It was more difficult to breeze by Yandere outside, where there was less cover and more light. Thankfully, Yandere was prone to drifting into his own little world. Dark was certain the ego wouldn't have reacted to anything less than a touch.

Dark didn't need to touch Yandere to evoke his influence. In a sudden burst of rage, the young ego had screamed and pulled a knife from some inexplicable pocket within his garments. Like the reality benders, Yandere rarely seemed to follow the laws of physics. The only difference was the fact he couldn't quite manipulate them. With knife in hand but no targets in sight, Yandere had proceeded to slash and stab at the grass beneath his feet.

He'd screamed and snarled and hissed, spitting insults and threats at some invisible enemy while his blade dug into the dirt. Over and over he stabbed at the ground, falling to his knees and spilling tears onto the carnage. Dark watched the entire time, not deigning to leave until Yandere had crumpled into a heaving mess of tears, snot and saliva on the ground.

One of his personal favorite incidents had happened in the break room. Rather than whirl on Dark with murderous intent, Yandere had simply gripped the edge of the table and flipped it with a guttural cry of frustration. Like poking a lion trapped in a cage with a stick until it was driven to the brink of insanity. Dr. Iplier had been present and spilled his coffee all over himself. Bim, too, had very nearly been flattened by the table, as he'd been in the middle of breakfast at the time. Neither ego confronted Yandere about it before he stormed from the room in a rage.

Dark had followed, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips, hands clasped behind his back. Yes, this was the way to go about it. Continue pushing and pushing the other ego until his mind weakened enough to be manipulated. Until his aura could slip in and grasp onto the shell he had created without being sapped away into Yandere's own reserves.

By week's end, Yandere was doing his best to avoid Dark like the plague, but it wasn't so easy. Egos, Inc. belonged to Dark. He knew every nook and cranny of his blood, sweat and tears and there was nowhere Yandere could hide.

Dark would find him. Dark would push him. And soon, Dark would control him.

Paranoia was a dish best served slow.

#markiplier #egoplier #markiplier egos #yandereplier #darkiplier #egos inc #embracing darkness #pay attention to the egos mentioned here ;)#manipulation #emotional manipulation #psychological manipulation #psychological abuse #violence

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theartofbeinganerd · 7 years

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I am so pumped that you said you're writing a bunch this summer!! could you write fs slowly falling for each other, in whatever universe you like? thanks so much!!

Awww yay! I’m really excited about it too!! Thanks for the prompt! :D

Okay, I’m super late posting tonight because apparently, the words ‘slowly falling in love’ were a signal to my brain to write 5k words of Academy AU so um...oops??

(Ao3)

“Was there a particular station you wanted, or…?” Fitztrailed off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably as he gestured towardthe pair of desks in the lab Agent Weaver had given them permission to use.

“Oh, um…” Jemma glanced at the two desks, but found nothingparticularly special about either of them. “No, you choose first.”

Fitz hesitated, then asked once more, “Are you sure? Becauseif you wanted a certain one –”

“It’s a desk,Fitz,” Jemma reminded him, a touch of fond exasperation in her tone, but shetried to tone down on the frustration she’d normally be feeling in thissituation – after all, it was only a week ago that Fitz had decided to stopcompeting with her and instead work withher. She still worried sometimes that if she said the wrong thing, it wouldcause his dislike of her to return with a vengeance, and Jemma wasn’t sure shecould handle that; Fitz was the only other student at SHIELD Academy that washer age, not to mention on her intellectual level, and none of the otherstudents had seemed too keen on befriending the seventeen-year-old prodigies.“Just go ahead and sit down at one, and I promise you that I won’t care whichit is.”

He studied her a moment longer, clearly gauging the honestyof her statement, then he nodded and plopped his backpack and stack of booksdown at the nearest desk, allowing Jemma to set her things down on the one oppositehis. They spent a few minutes getting things settled, but then as she wasshrugging into her lab coat, she turned to face Fitz.

“What do you want to do first?” she asked curiously,absently tying her hair up in a ponytail and tugging her safety goggles down ontoher face.

Fitz paused in the process of pulling on his own lab coat,then smiled a bit shyly and admitted, “Well, I’ve actually jotted down a coupleof ideas for projects.”

Jemma’s eyebrows rose in interest, and she walked around theside of their desks to stand beside Fitz at his. As he slowly pushed an opennotebook toward her, she noticed his cheeks turning a bit pink, and it had herlips quirking up at the corners. When he began to turn to her, however, shehastily dropped her eyes, scanning the list in his cramped, messy handwriting.

“Fitz,” shegasped, glancing up at him with wide eyes that were surely shining withdelight. “These are brilliant!”

“They are?” Fitz asked in pleasant surprise.

Jemma nodded, tapping the first item on the list. “Especiallythese drones – calibrated specially for forensics; it’s genius, really! I can’twait to get started.”

A grin spread across Fitz’s face, making his eyes light upin a way that Jemma hadn’t yet been witness to. He had a very nice smile, she decided; she was goingto do whatever she could to see it as often as possible. “Yeah, me too,” heagreed quickly, hurriedly pulling his safety goggles down over his eyes.

Over the next few hours, they worked tirelessly on figuringout a starting point and mapping out their plans for the drones, of which therewould be seven, and by the time they left the lab that night, Jemma wasabsolutely stunned. She’d known, ofcourse, that they’d get on if they’d just stop competing with one another, andthat he was likely the only one on the entire campus that would be able to keepup with her.

However, she hadn’t had a clue that they’d work so well together. In fact, the way theyautomatically seemed to be having the same thoughts in the same exact moments,allowing them to finish each other’s sentences, the harmonious way that theyworked together and around each other was something she’d never experiencedbefore.

It was then that Jemma knew, whatever it was she and Fitzhad, it was special.

“Alright, we’ve got blankets, popcorn, and plenty of othersnacks to tide you over; I think we’re all set,” Jemma listed as she set thebag she was carrying down. Darting a quick glance at her watch to check thetime, she began to spread the blankets out across the little section of theroof of her dorm they’d chosen as Fitz knelt down and began digging through herbag for said snacks.

“What did you bring?” he asked curiously, but Jemma slappedhis hand away, throwing him a reprimanding look as she sat down beside him.

“They’ve got to last you all night, and we just had dinner!You can have a snack in a little bit, alright?” Fitz frowned petulantly, butwordlessly complied (though not without a little huff as he crossed his armsover his chest). After the past month and a half of their friendship, she’dcome to realize rather quickly that, if allowed, Fitz would spend an entire dayjust absently snacking on whatever was available if left unchecked.

Fortunately, Jemma was alwayschecking.

“D’you think it’llstart soon?” Fitz asked, tilting his head back to squint up at the sky, wherethere would soon be meteors streaking past the stars.

Jemma checked the time again, then admitted, “Not foranother hour or so.”

He turned to her, gaping in disbelief. “Well then why did you insist on rushing up hereright after dinner? You barely allowed me the time to grab an extra jumper!”

“I wanted to make sure we were ready on time!” she defendedherself. “You can never be too early, only too late.”

Fitz grumbled under his breath, hunching in on himself a bitas he rolled his eyes. “Okay, so we’ve got an hour to the meteor shower, youwon’t let me have a snack; what are we supposed to do to pass the time?”

Jemma mulled over his admittedly very good question, butafter a moment she let out an excited gasp. “Oh! Do you see that there?” sheasked, pointing up above them.

He tilted his head back once more, peering up at the sky inconcentration. “What? You mean the Big Dipper?”

“Or Ursa Major, yes.” She folded her legs up against herbody, wrapping her arms around them. “Do you know the story of Ursa Major?”

Fitz thought a moment, pursing his lips, but then he shookhis head and admitted, “No, actually, I don’t think I do.”

A slow smile curved Jemma’s lips as she began reciting thestory her father had told her many years ago to Fitz, followed by the storiesof Perseus and Andromeda, Cassiopeia, and Orion. After awhile though, sheabruptly cut herself off, feeling her cool cheeks sting a bit as heat filledthem. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Wincing as she uncomfortably hooked her handsaround her neck, she told him, “You could’ve told me to stop at any time, Ididn’t mean to ramble on…”

“No!” Startled by Fitz’s sudden shout, Jemma whirled aroundto look at him, and found him staring at her with wide, worried eyes. “I’mlistening. I want to hear more, please?”

Somehow, Jemma’s blush only grew in intensity at his words,and she could feel the warmth spreading all the way down to her toes, even inthe chilly autumn night air. “Okay,” she said slowly, hesitating another momentbefore she went on, pointing out constellations to him and reciting theirstories.

It continued on long into the night, even as meteors burnedtrails across the sky above them, and Jemma had never felt more overwhelminglyas though she was safe being truly herself around another person before – itwas like she could be completely open and honest, and connect with Fitz in away she couldn’t even with her parents, no matter how much they’d always tried.

She didn’t quite know what it was about Fitz, but somehow,she was beginning to find that she couldn’t remember what her life had beenlike before he was it in, nor did she really want to remember.

“Oh quit beingsuch a child about this, Fitz!” Jemma groaned in exasperation, dropping herhead back against the headboard of his bed, where she sat beside him with herbiology text in her lap.

“I’m not being childish;I just don’t see why it’s necessary to take a class about something as gross asbiology when I’m engineering major!”Fitz cried defensively, making a face and pointedly looking away from thefull-color, detailed illustrations on the pages of the text.

“Look, I don’t make the rules, Fitz! All I’m trying to do ishelp you to pass the class, squeamishness or no.” Jemma heaved a tired sigh,tilting the book back to face Fitz. “Just…suck it up for a few hours every now andthen, take the tests, and then you’ll never have to deal with ‘gross biology’again.”

Fitz heaved a put-upon sigh, taking the book back from her,though his disgusted expression only grew in intensity as he laid eyes on thepictures once more. “Alright, fine, but I betternot have to, or I’m holding you personally responsible, Simmons.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Rolling her eyes, she beganattempting to break down the chapters they were being tested on the followingday to him once more, hopefully without interruption this time.

They spent the next couple of hours going back overeverything, and Jemma even went as far as to make flash cards, quizzing him onevery possible bit of information that may show up on the exam. By the time thesun was dipping low in the sky, causing shadows to creep along the floor of hisdorm room, they’d ended up stretched out side-by-side on his bed.

“Alright, what’s…” Jemma lifted her gaze as she raised thenext flashcard between them, but the remaining sunlight was hitting him justright and she couldn’t remember if he’d been that close this whole time and wow how had she never noticed how bluehis eyes were?

All of a sudden, the room felt at least ten degrees warmer,and Jemma’s stomach gave an odd little roll, making her feel as though she wasabout to throw up. Strange, shethought to herself, quickly dropping her gaze once more and taking deep, evenbreaths to try and calm her tumultuous stomach. Was she sick? Had she caught abug somewhere?

“Jemma?” Fitz prompted worriedly. “Are you alright?”

Her palms were clammy and her heart was racing and Jemma really didn’t want to vomit on her onlyfriend, so without meeting his searching gaze, she scrambled up from the bedand hastily collected her things. “I’m sorry Fitz, I have to go now. Lots ofum…things to do, and…all that, so…” With an awkward little wave, she left poor,confused Fitz alone in his room and rushed down the hall to the nearestbathroom.

However, almost as soon as she was alone, Jemma’s symptomsdisappeared almost as quickly as she had from Fitz’s room, as though they’dnever been there in the first place.

What was going onwith her?

“I’m not so sure about this, Simmons,” Fitz admitted,grimacing down at his feet, looking quite concerned.

“Nonsense, it’ll be fun once you get the hang of it,” Jemmapromised as she finished securing the rollerblades she’d rented from theskating rink not far from the Academy campus. She’d been meaning to take Fitzall year, but now that it was the final day before they both returned home forthe summer, she’d insisted on spending it teaching Fitz how to rollerblade.

Fitz inhaled, then released a deep breath before he noddedonce firmly. “Alright, I’m trusting you, then.” Using the table they weresitting at for help, he shakily got to his feet. Almost immediately, however,he began slipping on the wheels of his skates, and Jemma hurried to lend himsome support.

Together, they managed to get him actually out onto the floor, but for the firsthalf-hour he would only cling desperately to the bar along the wall. “See?You’re doing great,” Jemma encouraged as he made another pass around the rink.“Now, why don’t you try to next step and come away from the wall?”

Fitz shot a glance out at the others skating past them, theflashing lights and the pounding music, and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Jemma released a frustrated groan, gesturing widely to thegroup of elementary school children currently breezing past them. “Fitz! There are children who are bigger risk-takers than you! In order to develop askill, you actually have to put in some effort.”

“I am putting ineffort; it’s the effort not to fall flat on my ass like an idiot,” he repliedtightly, focusing on slowly inching his way forward with the help of the bar.

“C’mon Fitz, please?I promise you it’ll be fun, even if you’re falling flat on your ass – that’sjust something that comes hand-in-hand with learning to rollerblade.” When Fitzglanced up, she put on her best pout, clasping her hands together beneath herchin.

It was another moment before his expression collapsed and helet out a low groan. “Oh fine, youget your way, as always. But, if atany point I fall, you’re buying dinner.”

“Deal!” With that, Jemma grasped Fitz’s hand, helping him toslowly come away from the wall so that she could take his other as well,skating slowly backwards as she helped him forward. They only made it a shortdistance away before his feet began to stumble beneath him and he couldn’tregain his balance – and when he went down, he took Jemma with him.

For a beat, neither of them moved or said a word, simplylaid there in a tangle of aching limbs. Then, suddenly, Jemma couldn’t help thegiggles building up in her chest and tickling at her throat. It wasn’t longbefore Fitz had joined in, and it took a bit of time before they could gettheir laughter under control enough to struggle back to their feet.

The rest of the day ended up going much the same, with Fitzconsistently tripping and falling, almost always managing to take Jemmastraight down with him. She still held up her end of the bargain, though, andbought their dinner before they headed back to the campus.

Even though they were both sore beyond belief and werelikely to be absolutely covered in bruises within the next few days, Jemmacouldn’t remember a day where she’d laughed more since she was very young. And,as they were parting ways to return to their dorms for one more night, and Fitzwas playfully griping about his aching muscles, an overpowering warmth washedover Jemma, making her feel almost lightheaded. All of a sudden, she didn’t want to say goodbye to him; she wantedto stay with him and spend more time just laughing and having fun and being theteenager she’d never had the chance to be.

But, with a bit of effort, she managed to shake off thestrange feeling, said her goodnights to him, and returned to her dorm.

Unfortunately, saying goodbye to Fitz the next day for a wholesummer was, in fact, much harder than saying goodnight after the lovely daythey’d had together. As she got settled on her plane back home, Jemma had theoddest feeling that she’d forgotten something at the Academy, something important, like a limb or one of herorgans – but that couldn’t possibly be right.

The feeling only seemed to stronger the more the summermonths dragged on, until Jemma could barely concentrate on anything, and shecould see the worried looks herparents were constantly exchanging, but she had no idea what was wrong with her.

It was only once she’d returned to the Academy in the fall,and laid eyes on Fitz for the first time in months, all curly hair and pastyskin and blue eyes, that she felt she was complete again, that she couldfinally breathe without difficulty once more.

Jemma simply chalked it up to being back at the Academy, thefirst place she’d ever felt she truly belonged.

“Can you believe it? Perfect scores! Well, I mean, as ifthere was any doubt in my mind,” Jemma added, turning to throw a brilliant grinover her shoulder at Fitz. “And they say mid-terms are supposed to be challenging.”

“Well Simmons, they are for the normal folk, remember. Don’twanna get too high and mighty,” Fitz reminded her teasingly, and she pointedlyrolled her eyes at him.

“Oh hush, Fitz; as if the gathering of the most brilliantminds could possibly be called ‘normal folk’.” As she pushed open the door ofthe building and stepped out into the daylight, Jemma let out a surprised gasp.“Oh Fitz! It must’ve snowed while we were taking our exams!”

The whole campus was covered in a layer of fluffy whitesnow, sparkling in the mid-day sun. It was so fresh, it was even still clingingto the bare trees, painting a rather beautiful picture. “Oh, would you look atthat,” Fitz commented a bit disinterestedly. “Hey, you wanna go get lunch?”

“In a minute; first, I want to make snow angels,” Jemma saidabruptly, eyeing a patch of undisturbed snow not far away. When Fitz made adisbelieving noise, she turned to him and insisted, “It hasn’t snowed at allyet this year and we’ve had such goodday; please Fitz?”

He stayed firm for only another moment, then he heaved asigh of surrender, allowing Jemma to tug him down beside her into the freezingcold snow. It wasn’t long before they’d finished their respective snow angels,and as her limbs slowed to a stop, she turned her head to face him and teasedthrough her grin, “See Fitz, wasn’t that fun?”

Fitz didn’t respond at first, simply staring at her withwide eyes, blinking owlishly as though he was taken aback by something, thoughshe hadn’t the faintest clue what that could be. When she opened her mouth toprompt him once more, he cleared his throat and said simply, “Uh, yeah.”

Frowning, Jemma sat up and cautiously stood up and away fromher snow angel, holding out her hands to help a shivering Fitz up as well. Shesqueezed his hands with her own numb fingers, and concerned that he was actingstrange because she’d made him do something he hadn’t wanted to do, sheoffered, “For being such a good sport, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.”

“You better,” he replied, but his voice sounded slightly offto her, and she frowned, glancing worriedly at him. But, then he gave her asmall smile and added, “And there had better be extra marshmellows,” and Jemmaquickly forgot about it completely.

“Fitz?”

Jemma waited a moment, but there was no response to herprompt.

“Fitz?” she triedagain, but once more, there was no response.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Jemma craned her head to glance atwhere Fitz’s weight was resting heavily against her side. Sure enough, he wasfast asleep, his head lolled to the side and lying right on her shoulder.

Of course.

Before they’d started their customary Friday night DoctorWho marathon, she’d made him promisethat he wasn’t going to fall asleep this time. She believed, actually, that hisexact words had been ‘I won’t fall asleep on you Simmons, I swear!’.

Unable to help herself, Jemma had to let out a soft snort atthe irony. Of course, she couldn’t really be too upset with him this time; he’dbeen keeping odd hours lately, up late into the night trying to complete hisfinal project for his engineering course, which was due in just a few weeks.

Jemma figured that she’d let it pass just this once, sincehe undoubtedly needed the sleep.

However, that didn’t solve the problem of how exactly shewas going to free herself without waking him up, so that she could return toher own room to get some much-needed sleep as well.

Carefully, she shifted until she could glance down at him,sleeping so soundly against her shoulder, even though it no doubt wasuncomfortable – he made it lookpretty darn comfortable, though.

Well, Jemma supposed, she could wait a little while longerand watch a couple more episodes, see if he ended up shifting away to find anew position on his own.

But, even though she was trying her level best to payattention to what was happening on the screen in front of her, Jemma keptfinding herself glancing down at Fitz (who hadn’t moved an inch, of course). Hejust looked so peaceful and innocent, and his adorable little snores keptbringing fond smiles to her lips. As she dropped her gaze once more, studyingthe way his eyelashes fanned out beneath his closed eyelids and the slight partof his lips as he released a quiet breath, Jemma felt her fingers shift againsther leg.

They twitched closer and closer to Fitz, and she had tofight the sudden, desperate urge to stroke them over his cheek and brush themthrough his hair. It was then, with a sudden burst of clarity, that Jemma knew that whatever it was she felt forFitz, it was far more than friendship.

The weeks following Jemma’s late night revelation weresimultaneously the best and worst of her life. It was absolutely freeing toknow, quite abruptly, that she had feelings for her best friend, to haveeverything that had never made much sense suddenly crystal clear to her. Sheunderstood now the strange, warm, almost tingly feeling that washed over herwhenever Fitz smiled at her, or she found herself getting lost in his beautifulblue eyes or he said something so utterly thoughtful and Fitz that she was caught off-guard by it.

But, it was also tortuousto be able to put a name to the depth of pure, unadulterated feeling inside ofher, to have it begin to grow and grow once she’d acknowledged its existence.Each day, she only seemed to fall deeper and deeper for Fitz, and she knew itwas nothing but trouble for her; after all, there was only one of two ways lifewould go after they graduated.

Either they would continue on as partners, as Agent Weaverhad told them was highly likely, due to their effortless ability to worktogether and create revolutionary projects, and she’d have to struggle with herfeelings in silence for many years to come; or, they’d be separated and sent todifferent SHIELD locations, and she’d never see Fitz again.

But, of course, no matter how much it hurt, Jemma wouldspend every single day for the rest of her life struggling to keep her feelingshidden and under control – as long as she had Fitz in her life. Even if itwasn’t exactly ideal for her, sheknew that any situation that kept them together was one she wanted to be in.

It wasn’t until the day of graduation, actually, that AgentWeaver pulled them aside, and finally informed them that they were beingassigned to a Sci-Ops facility – together,as partners.

Consumed by relief as she was, Jemma barely noticed as AgentWeaver left them to prepare for the ceremony. She turned to Fitz, giving him awide, breathless smile. “Oh Fitz, this is wonderful.I was so worried!” She wasn’t going to have to live without Fitz, and dealing withhiding her feelings for him truly was a small price to pay for such a gift.

“Yeah, me too,” Fitz admitted, giving her a smile in return,though it was rather dim in comparison to hers. “Look, Jemma, I…I told myselfthat I’d be honest with you if we ended up being assigned together.”

Jemma frowned at the rare use of her first name; somethingwas very wrong with Fitz. “What isit?” she asked in concern, reaching out to place a comforting hand on hisshoulder. “Fitz, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

He released a harsh breath, nodding. “I know, I know. I’mjust…I’m scared that it’s going to ruin our friendship or change things, andyou know I don’t do well with change.”

For a brief moment, Jemma had the sudden, horrifying thoughtthat he’d somehow figured out how she felt about him, that he was about to tellher that he didn’t feel the same and he was worried that the rejection wouldruin their friendship. “Fitz, nothingyou could say would ever hurt our friendship, alright? I promise you that.”

The promise seemed to calm him just enough, and he took asteadying breath, then stumbled out the confession, “Lately I’ve been… I don’tknow where… I didn’t mean for…it’sjust that you…and I… What I mean is…” Obviously seeing Jemma’s bewilderedexpression, he rolled his eyes at himself and finally just blurted out, “I’m inlove with you, Jemma. And you don’t have to say anything, I just –”

That was as far as he got before Jemma surged forward towrap her arms around his neck, finding his lips with hers as they met in themiddle. She felt more than heard the startled noise he let out against hermouth, but within moments his fumbling hands had found her waist to pull hercloser, and she couldn’t even begin to stop the ridiculous smile currentlytugging at her lips.

Eventually, they were both smiling so much that they had topull away from the kiss, and Jemma found Fitz watching her in the same awe thatshe knew must’ve been written in her own eyes. “I had no idea you felt this waytoo,” she admitted, absently sliding her fingers through his hair and strokingthe back of his neck; now that she was allowed to touch him freely, she wasn’tsure she’d ever be able to stop. “How long have you…?”

“I’m not really sure how long,” Fitz admitted, giving alittle shrug and blushing lightly. “But I realized it the day of our mid-terms,when you made me lay down in a snow pileand make a bloody snow angel.”

“Really?” Jemmaasked in utter disbelief. Nothing about that moment stood out to her as overly romantic– though, now that she thought about it, she could remember his strangebehavior immediately following said event.

“Yeah.” He gave her a shy little smile, idly tracing theshape of her waist and the curve of her spine with his fingertips as he explained,“You had turned to smile at me, with snowflakes clinging to your hair and yourcheeks all rosy and it just took my breath away and I well…I dunno, I just knewthat I’d do anything to make you smile like that.”

Jemma bit her lip to hold back on the giddy little grin thatwas currently trying to break across her face. “Oh,” she said simply.

“And…um…what about you?” he asked, seeming a bituncomfortable as he dropped his gaze from hers. “Was it just now, or…are younot really sure…?”

“Oh no, I’m sure,” she promised, leaning in to rest herforehead against his so that she could find his gaze with hers once more; she refusedto let him think for even a moment that she didn’t truly feel the same. “It wasa couple of weeks ago, during that Doctor Who marathon; you know, when youpromised not to fall asleep.” He smiled a bit sheepishly at the reminder. “You,of course, did end up falling asleep,only it was right on my shoulder and I just…couldn’t seem to look away – youwere adorable, of course – and I wanted to sit there all night long watchingyou sleep and it just…became clear, I suppose.”

“Because I fell asleepon you?” Fitz asked incredulously. “That’s it?”

“Well you realized it because I smiled at you!” Jemma reminded him indignantly.

He made a face, then gave her waist a little squeeze. “Ohalright, I suppose they’re both rather simple. But the important thing is, theyhappened, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “and now I get to do this.” She tiltedher head, closing her eyes as her lips found his once more and her armstightened around his neck. As he gave a surprised moan, she deepened the kiss,burying her fingers in his hair to keep him right where she wanted him.

It was a long, wonderfully dizzying moment before theyparted this time, and Fitz had to blink a couple of times to focus as hemurmured, “A very important benefit, yes.”

Just then, Jemma heard a call of, “Fitzsimmons!” and sheleaned back from Fitz to find one of their classmates a ways away, waving atthem. “Ceremony’s about to start!”

“We’ll be right there!” Jemma called, but as she turned backto Fitz, something of great importance suddenly occurred to her. Urgently, shetold him, “Fitz, we have to promise that no matter what happens, we won’t letSHIELD split us up – Section Seventeen be damned.”

“Of course,” he promised immediately, his grip on her hipstightening just slightly. “We’re better together, and SHIELD knows that. Ifthey’re as smart as they claim to be, they won’t split us up over something assimple as…y’know…being in love.”

Jemma released a shaky breath, nodding in agreement.“Right.” Still, she tugged Fitz back into her embrace, burying her face in hisshoulder and soaking up his warm, breathing in his familiar scent. “Becausethat’s where we belong; together.”

“Always,” Fitz agreed softly, the words whispered againsther temple as he placed a kiss there.

Jemma knew then that, no matter where life took them fromthere, whether it was with SHIELD or otherwise, she and Fitz would be togetherthrough it all. Together truly was where they belonged –even when they hadn’tbe able to see it for what it was, together was where they’d always belonged.

#shayna writes #fsfic #fitzsimmons #prompts #academy au #friends to lovers #this one's a beast omg #it never wanted to end i swear #poursuislesetolies

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interiorstarweb · 6 years

Text

Here! There! Everywhere!

OH HELLO! It’s June! How did that happen?! There’s so much going on. Let’s run it down in no particular order because my brain’s all over the place.

The gang is back together! Edwin, Edgar and I are in the midst of building a large-and-in-charge wraparound front porch on a circa-1900 house in Kingston! Perhaps I should say rebuilding, since the porch was demolished long ago. So we’re constructing a close resemblance of the original porch, based on the bits of information we have—a few photos, dimensions from old tax assessment records, and the few pieces of the original porch that remained. It’s a big huge project that’s been in the works for a couple of YEARS now, so it’s super exciting that it’s finally happening. It’s also daunting! Partially because it’s HUGE at almost 800 square feet, and partially because it’s a significant addition that will completely change the appearance of this old house and I have to make it look right and like it’s always been there! Part of my job is keeping everyone occupied and PAID, so aside from this big project I’ve also been hustling my ass around town on a bunch of smaller projects that the guys can hit when it rains, or a product order is late, or whatever. It’s kinda a lot to manage.

Let me tell you a story! Last summer, I reluctantly dove into the waters of Instagram Stories while we were working on a different house just outside of Kingston. Admittedly, I’m an extremely rare story-watcher, but evidently I’m a semi-prolific story-maker. It’s fun! It’s easy! As we know by now, as much as I like to write, I frequently struggle with actually having the time to dedicate entire blog posts to stuff that I plan to dedicate entire blog posts to while they’re happening, so Instagram Stories have been a nice alternate way to document things in real time. If you’re not following me already, first of all get your life together, and second of all go find me @DanielKanter. Then just keep an eye out for new posts, I guess! I try to archive the more relevant bits into the Highlights feature at the top of my profile, if you need to catch up a little on the aforementioned porch project.

What’s that you say? A different house outside of Kingston? Yeah! I guess if you don’t follow me on Instagram, you wouldn’t have a way of knowing about the cool quirky old farmhouse the guys and I renovated last summer/fall/winter! Honestly it was another doozy—not quite Olivebridge proportions, but still managed to go from a couple changes and a bunch of sprucing up to a top-to-bottom overhaul of…everything? 2 bathrooms! Kitchen! Laundry! All the rooms! The whole outside! Mechanicals! The bulk of the work ended in February but I just did a final install last week. I have to go back and photograph it but it’s nice to have this 8-week-turned-8-month project off my plate a bit.

Speaking of Olivebridge. If you read even one of those tumultuous posts about the Olivebridge house, I owe you some resolution. We don’t have to get into all the mostly-stupid reasons that hasn’t yet come to pass, but I haven’t forgotten. Honestly the fact that I haven’t blogged about it makes me feel like the book is still open on that project—in spite of the house’s successful completion!—and that feeling sucks so it’s high time to get my shit together on that front. MAYBE IT COULD ACTUALLY BE FUN! At the very least I think it will really and truly feel finished in terms of big life events I’d never want to repeat. Ha!

5 years! So I didn’t even think about it until the day after, but Friday marked the five year anniversary of owning my house! What a journey we’ve been on, this house and I. I still love it. I’m still overwhelmed by it. There are still parts of it I haven’t tackled and a lot of other parts in some stage of progress, but (knock on ALL the wood) I think the worst of the renovation is pretty much over and that feels GOOD. The past 2 years or so were particularly rocky, but it’s finally started to feel like a real home again—my home—and I’m more grateful than ever that I get to call this special house mine.

Laundry! Kitchen! Anticipating that this summer would be exactly as crazy as it’s shaping up to be, I set some concrete goals for myself and my renovation for the first four months of the year. We can talk about this more later, but experience is a valuable thing—and it’s taught me that working on multiple major renovation projects at different properties at the same time is a recipe for inefficiency and frazzled-ness and general misery, but I also obviously can’t just work on my own house all the time. So, I try to give myself a little time between client projects to re-focus on my own stuff and get as much done as I can. May 1st became the goal for having a functioning laundry room, a functioning kitchen, and doing some MAJOR clean-up and space-reclamation everywhere else once the first two items were accomplished and there’d be a bit more room to spread out. I DID IT! Having laundry again is amazing and having it on the second floor lights up my life. The kitchen is FAR from complete, but IT HAS WALLS and electric and plumbing—enough to hook up a sink, move in a few of my old cabinets, and start using the space again AS A KITCHEN for the first time in almost 2 years. And now that my dining room isn’t also a kitchen, and my living room isn’t also an enormous glorified dog kennel, I spent a weekend just rearranging my own shit for hours and now those two rooms look and feel so much better than they have in a LONG TIME. I even had two friends over for dinner! Like I said—still a ton to do, but getting to this point of basic usability feels huge.

So interior progress at my house will slow, but hopefully exterior work will continue. There’s a lot to do on the outside of my house—between gardening on the street-facing sides (and just maintaining what I have!), finally putting the finishing touches on the major exterior work that started last summer and the one before, and trying to get SOMETHING good going on in the backyard, I hope I can bang it out in my “free time” before fall/winter hits again. I’ve already decided that this summer I’m going to skip tearing off more vinyl siding in favor of just polishing off what’s already started—I can’t stand all the loose ends out there right now.

I have a major itch to landscape. Or hardscape maybe, more specifically? Getting the backyard just to square one was so labor-intensive and expensive that gathering the motivation (or setting aside the time, with the house itself needing so much attention!) to do much else with it has been tough. I’ve done two things that helped get my ass in gear, though: first, I asked a friend with a great garden to help me prioritize and plan and make a few decisions. FRIENDS! THEY’RE SO HELPFUL! Second, the Brinson’s invited me last minute to the Trade Secrets garden show in Connecticut, where we toured 3 amazing gardens including living legend Bunny Williams’ property, which I really just need to do a photo-dump kind of blog post about because it was so insanely good. Going to see this stuff IN MY CLIMATE (“omg, I can actually grow that too!!!”) was really valuable and the whole thing was for-real inspiring. Like I literally got home and began construction on a dry-stacked bluestone wall because I just had to get my inspo-overload ya-yas out somehow.

But don’t get carried away about my house, because there’s still Bluestone Cottage. I feel I owe a longer explanation about this than I want to get into right this instant, but long and short of it is—I MUST finish that house. Personally, professionally, emotionally, physically, financially—it needs to happen. I think I successfully enlisted an electrician last week, and the plumber has finally (sort of) reemerged after beginning the rough-in a YEAR ago, and my own living situation is finally back out of complete shambles, and life will go on and the house will get done and then I can stop feeling shitty about bad decisions I made when I was younger and dumber. Well, at least one of them.

Mekko is the best dog. We’ve also been dealing with some health stuff over the past few months, requiring visits to vet offices in 3 different states and a whole lotta money. It’s certainly not good but seems to be surmountable (yay!), and it’s been stressful and expensive and basically I’m trying to not freak out. I lost one dog 7 months ago. I refuse to entertain that this could resolve any way other than completely fine and she’ll go on to be the longest-living dog on record and then I’ll clone her. So anyway. That’s been awful, no lie, but could be way worse. Surgery, again, this Friday. Sigh.

I’ve bought some stuff. You know, since the last time I showed you some stuff I bought. I like pretty old stuff.

So that’s basically what’s up in my little corner of the world. What’s up in your little corner of the world? Do we want to hear about any of the above items in particular more than others? Watched any good TV lately?

Here! There! Everywhere! published first on https://novaformmattressreview.tumblr.com/

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carygarman980 · 6 years

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Here! There! Everywhere!

OH HELLO! It’s June! How did that happen?! There’s so much going on. Let’s run it down in no particular order because my brain’s all over the place.

I’ve bought some stuff. You know, since the last time I showed you some stuff I bought. I like pretty old stuff.

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untilthefoglifts-blog · 6 years

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Marvelous Mrs. Maisel' Creators Talk Long-Term Plan, Amazon Turnover and More 'Gilmore Girls'

Almost a year after the launch of Netflix's Gilmore Girls revival, series creators-writers-directors-producers Amy Sherman-Palladino and Daniel Palladino are back with a new original series. Like Gilmore (and the beloved Bunheads), the husband-and-wife team have again crafted a light, quick-witted hourlong show centered on a fast-talking, whip-smart female protagonist. However, that's where the comparisons end.

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, premiering Nov. 29 on Amazon, is set in 1958 in New York City, a few hundred miles from the confines of Stars Hollow. The series centers on Miriam "Midge" Maisel (House of Cards' Rachel Brosnahan), a married mother of two whose life is turned upside down when her husband leaves her and she suddenly discovers a hidden talent for stand-up comedy. As she navigates her suddenly tumultuous personal life, Midge also navigates her way through the stand-up comedy world, a path that will ultimately take her to Johnny Carson's couch.

Maisel marks just the beginning of the Palladinos' relationship with Amazon. The series earned a rare two-season pickup in April and the duo signed an overall deal there in September. The latter comes in the midst of major turnover at Amazon, which saw top-level execs, including studio chief Roy Price and head of comedy and drama Joe Lewis, exit under less-than-ideal circumstances as the studio sets its sights on finding the next Game of Thrones.

Ahead of the series premiere, THR spoke with the braintrusts behind Maisel about going back in time, their experience thus far at Amazon, the "tough" process to find their lead and, of course, the prospect of more Gilmore Girls.

How did the idea for the show come about?

Amy Sherman-Palladino: My father was a stand-up comic so I grew up with a lot of comics sitting around our backyard eating deli and talking about the Catskills and talking about Greenwich Village and touring and sharing anecdotes and trying to make each other laugh. So that premise just stuck in my weird DNA.

Dan Palladino: And all those guys of her father's age were all starting out in the late '50s.

Sherman-Palladino: I think it scared me perhaps in an advantageous way. When I was talking to Amazon about doing something with them, I thought that would be a good venue to do on Amazon: a woman in the late '50s who gets sucked into that world and suddenly finds a voice and a talent and ambition that she had never known was there. And we could shoot it in New York so I could live in New York and wake up in New York and live in New York and work in New York.

This is your first period project. Most of the other things you've worked on are set in the present so what were the biggest challenges that came with that?

Palladino: It seemed like the perfect time to place her because there was a real sea change coming in comedy with Lenny Bruce and people like that that were not telling pre-written stand-up jokes. They were sometimes discussing things just off the tops of their heads.

Sherman-Palladino: A lot of stream of consciousness.

Palladino: Or they were talking about current events, which was edgier at the time. Those guys, Lenny Bruce especially, led to George Carlin and Joan Rivers and they led to Sarah Silverman and Jerry Seinfeld and all of that crew so it just seemed like an interesting time for her to dive in. She doesn't look like a woman who would go into comedy. We explore how people react to how she looks and her pursuing comedy at that time in other episodes. It just felt like the perfect year to start following a woman just boldly going into this really, really impossible business.

Sherman-Palladino: Plus, we wanted to do something with some scope. We wanted to do something that had a lot of visual places to explore and 1958 New York, especially re-creating that in modern New York, is both tragically impossible and hard, and very rewarding and exciting. We have this unbelievable crew of people working with us who have made it possible so it just felt like let's go for something that has a great visual theme to it also.

What drew you to Amazon? How did those conversations begin about working with them on something?

Sherman-Palladino: We had a really great relationship with Netflix on the Gilmore movies and we were pretty decided at that moment that the streaming world was our new permanent home forever if we ever worked again. Just because they were people that spoke our language. I sat down with [Amazon Studios head of current hour] Marc Resteghini, and he just was a guy who listened and understood and they felt like a company that was looking to do different stories. When I first was at Warner Bros. when dinosaurs were on the Earth and pitched Gilmore, The WB [the network that evolved into The CW] prided themselves as being the network that encouraged voices because they had Joss Whedon and J.J. Abrams. Sitting with the Amazon guys felt like even a broader version of that. They want those different experiences and those different characters and those different voices out there and they felt like people that would not be terrified of us and find us annoying problem children, but actually find our independent style a little delightful. So far, they are either lying or they actually do find us delightful. Either way, I'll take it. I don't need honesty, I just need to do my thing.

What were the specific points that made streaming so compelling as compared to cable or pay cable or broadcast?

Palladino: The main thing is once you got away from, especially the four-network model and even the cable model, there's just room for a lot of different kinds of characters, a lot of different kinds of voices. We've been in this business a long time. When we started at broadcast networks, you pitch a strong woman character and you see men in the room get very nervous about a strong woman character because often they worry that if the woman is strong, she's not going to be likable. Now you pitch a Midge Maisel, there's no nervousness, there's no question about that. That's actually a pretty big sea change. It's fantastic that that's happened. That's a result of having so many outlets that there's a less uniform business model sort of guiding everybody in their choices. Because that's how you end up with the same cop show, the same medical show over and over and over and over again.

Sherman-Palladino: The other thing about Amazon and Netflix and streaming services is because they want everybody there, they want everybody at the table, they are going to be open to a lot more. You go to some places and they say, "This is what we do. We are this so it has to fit it into our tiny little hole." There is no tiny little hole at Amazon or Netflix, the sky's the limit. That's really important when you're people like us who have very strong opinions about your work and what you want to do and aren't interested in having to explain why you made those music choices. There's a trust level in terms of who you are and your body of work that you don't get at a network. They simply don't have the trust that you're not going to completely screw 'em over and waste their money. For some reason, there's no trust. It doesn't matter who you are or what your background is. You're all the same, you're all failures until you've proved differently as far as they're concerned.

Amazon had so much trust in you they gave the show a rare two-season pickup. How did that impact you in terms of writing and planning for the show's long-term future?

Palladino: It really helped us because we could tell specific crew because we were trying to get the best crew available.

Sherman-Palladino: You got a job next year, kid!

Palladino: It didn't affect the longer-term plan because if you go into any series, we're big believers that you should be able to see years down the line and a lot of writers actually don't do that. They come up with thoughts and they actually don't know what's coming.

Given how the serialized the show is and you actually put in the series descriptor, this show is going to show her from discovering her talent to Johnny Carson's couch, how long do you see the show running?

Sherman-Palladino: Thirty-five years.

Palladino: And when we say Johnny Carson's couch, we mean the couch on set. With everything going on right now, we have to be clear.

Sherman-Palladino: In this day and age, it can mean something else completely.

Palladino: It's the one on his set that's on camera. We're not hiding the fact that this is going to be a journey of success. It's the journey that we think is going to be interesting for the audience.

Sherman-Palladino: But her personal journey is really what the show is about and so it's not really a spoiler to say, "Oh, by the way she's going to be famous or she's going to be successful." This show is really about how her shifting dynamic affects her family, her husband. It's really about all of those personal dynamics.

Do you have a number of seasons plotted out?

Sherman-Palladino: I think we know what our trajectory is for the first four to five seasons. And then I just want to see if I’m still breathing at that point. If I am, then we’ll continue or Dan and his new wife will continue!

So much of this series hinges on the title role. How did you find your Mrs. Maisel? How long was that search and what did that entail?

Sherman-Palladino: It entailed a lot of really good actresses coming in and reading for it, which we are very grateful for. It was tough. It was a lot. It's a tough part. And the toughest thing was we knew we were probably going to have to get an actress who was not a comic, which is what we got, and whose comedy had to be story so that they would have something to latch onto because comedy is its own animal. Great comics, they take years and years and years to hone that persona and those jokes and the timing and we wanted to be able to show the audience in the pilot when Midge goes up on stage that she has the potential of being something really great. We didn't want to just tell the audience that, we wanted them to see it. We needed to find that one-in-a-million girl. Rachel came in and we had been told by our L.A. casting director, Jeanie Bacharach, there's nothing on paper that says that she could remotely do that because she was mostly drama but she just felt like Rachel was special enough that she would be able to be our girl. She came in and she read and we worked with her and we talked and by the time that she left, it was very apparent that she was it. She came, she saw, she conquered.

When you were meeting with these actresses, did you actually have them read jokes or do stand-up to see how they would be in that context?

Sherman-Palladino: We had them do the stand-up scene.

Palladino: Every actress came in and every actress was off-book. They had memorized the scene and they came in to do the stand-up and it was me yelling, like the audience would, back to them and kind of applauding and trying to give them energy. It was really tough.

Sherman-Palladino: It was very grueling for Dan. It was exhausting.

Palladino: It was terrible. You should do a whole separate article on how grueling the process was for me. But really, they just came in and did it and it's a high-wire act to do that in a casting session. Rachel knew how to approach it from a character's point even though she was never dumb enough to try stand-up.

You signed an overall deal with Amazon, but before that there was speculation about more installments of Gilmore Girls given its success on Netflix. Right now, where do you stand on the future of Gilmore Girls and your interest in doing more episodes?

Sherman-Palladino: We've got the Gilmore clause, we've carved it out. (Laughs.) The thing about Gilmore Girls is, it's an amorphous thing. The reason that it happened the first time is because we all went to that Austin [ATX] Festival and we all sat together and there was an open bar and we were all sitting there saying, "It feels good now, let's do it now." I think it would have to be a similar situation. There would have to be an open bar and we would have to have the right story and the right format and it would have to be a time where the girls and us all felt like, 'Yeah, let's dive in again.' There's nothing being planned right now but it's open if the muse strikes.

There's recently been a lot of executive changes at Amazon. Now that you have an overall deal, how concerned are you about going forward at the studio? How are you feeling about Amazon given those recent exits?

Sherman-Palladino: Our guys at Amazon are Marc Resteghini and Ken Lipman, and they're still there. They're good guys. Our people have been very constant.

Palladino: What’s kind of cool about how our brief time so far has been at Amazon is, at this point, we're kind of like independent filmmakers or independent TV makers on our own. They know that the deal is: here's what we're going to try to do. Let us do it to the best of our ability, meaning like don't throw a lot of different things at us. Take it or leave it as is, and let us do our thing and they were amazing on that with Maisel. We gave them what we promised…

Sherman-Palladino: …And they did what they promised.

Palladino: We're still independent producers within the Amazon realm and we're happy there because we need cameras, we need financing, we need an office, we need a home, and they're happily providing all of that. It's been good and we're looking forward to a really great relationship with them. Learn To Ask Questions For Girls.

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flauntpage · 7 years

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DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy

Three stars of comedy

The third star: Taylor Crosby. She's a goaltender at St. Cloud State University. You may have also heard of her big brother, but just in case you hadn't, she was nice enough to drop a mention of him into her official bio.

The second star: Justin Williams. As a diehard Leafs fan, I recognize Maple Leaf Gardens on top of that trophy. No idea what that cup-shaped thing behind it is, though.

The first star: Predators fan Andrew Fudge. OK, admittedly this one is only funny if you're not Andrew Fudge. Are you Andrew Fudge? No? OK, keep reading.

Yes, that's a diehard Predators fan who won tickets to a Stanley Cup Final game—and only realized it two months later. You can read the whole heartbreaking story here.

The Nashville Predators, sliding into your DMs like:

(Where Andrew is the linesman.)

Epilogue: This one has a happy ending.

Be It Resolved

This week, Gary Bettman appeared at a panel with the commissioners of the NFL, MLB, and NBA to discuss a variety of issues. As always seems to be the case whenever he gets near a live microphone, he said some things that annoyed hockey fans.

We've covered this sort of thing before, because it happens every few months. But this time, I'm not here to complain. No, this time, I'm bringing a solution. I've figured out one simple trick that will transform any random Gary Bettman soundbite from something that infuriates you into something that makes you nod and go "Yeah, that's fair."

I'm calling it The Bettman Sentence.

Here's all you need to do. Whenever Bettman says something about the state of the game, just recall that he's been NHL commissioner for 24 years and counting. That's already longer than three of the five men who'd held the previous title of President. He's going to pass Frank Calder within a few years. There's a decent change he'll even do what once seemed unthinkable and outlast Clarence Campbell.

Even that might be underselling it. While Calder and Campbell each led the league through tumultuous periods of major change, things just move faster these days. You could make a good case that 24 years in today's hyper-speed world should count for a lot more than 26 years back before most people had a television.

Everything about today's NHL, both good and bad, traces back to Bettman in one way or another. I know it. You know it. Every player, coach, GM, owner, and media member knows it. And it's a pretty safe assumption that Bettman knows it, too.

So whenever you hear Bettman complaining about state of the modern NHL, all you need to do is mentally append one more sentence: "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's it. Just imagine that sentence, in Bettman's trademark voice, and everything will be OK again.

Here, let's try it out. Take this quote from earlier this week, which probably had you bouncing your forehead off the nearest desk.

Bettman is basically complaining that the league doesn't get enough media coverage. But that's outrageous, because he's the one who bailed on ESPN and he lets the league be so boring and he's always picking fights with reporters and…

Calm down. Breathe deeply. And then, add the magic sentence.

"Historically, we have been underserved by traditional media. And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that."

That's a perfectly rational thing to say, right? If you heard those words come out of Bettman's mouth, you wouldn't be mad at all. You'd actually think he was being downright perceptive. It's not like we're changing reality around here by making stuff up. Bettman really has been around since 1993. He absolutely knows that he's the most influential person in the modern history of the league, and probably the most influential ever, period. He knows that everything about today's game has his fingerprints all over it.

Would he say that out loud? Probably not. But he's thinking it, or at least he should be. So you should feel free to do him a favor and tack that extra sentence on for him.

Here, let's try another one:

"… and since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Boom. Suddenly, a comment that's transparently antagonistic at the worst possible time is transformed into a completely reasonable observation.

So be it resolved: From now on, every Gary Bettman quote where he's complaining about the state of the game gets The Bettman Sentence automatically appended to the end of it. "And since I've been running this league since 1993, I take full responsibility for that." Do that, and everything else starts to make a lot more sense. It will probably be good for your blood pressure, too.

Obscure former player of the week

This week, a Russian magazine unveiled its list of the country's 50 best NHL players of all-time. As always with these sort of projects, the end result made for some fun debate. They had Evgeni Malkin as the best ever, but you could make a case for Alexander Ovechkin, Pavel Bure, Sergei Fedorov, Pavel Datsyuk, Alexander Mogilny… the list goes on and on.

This week's obscure player didn't quite make the cut, but he is the subject of one of my favorite draft day stories, and that's worth something. He's defenseman Sergei Bautin.

Bautin was a big blueliner who played a physical style that earned him the nickname Bam Bam. He made his name with Dynamo Moscow, and won gold as part of the Unified Team at the 1992 Olympics alongside Sergei Zubov, Nikolai Khabibulin, Darius Kasparaitis and the subject of this week's YouTube clip.

By the time the 1992 entry draft rolled around, Bautin was 25 years old, but with the NHL opening up to European players and his international experience drawing attention, he had an outside shot at getting drafted. Hey, you could do worse with a late-round flyer, right?

Then the Winnipeg Jets picked him 17th overall.

To give you an idea of how off-the-board the pick was, consider this: Even Bob McKenzie didn't know who Bautin was, sending him into a live-TV scramble to figure out who the Jets had just used their first round pick on. It was a bizarre choice, but you know, that's what happens when your GM is Mike Smith, am I right, folks?

Bautin came over to North America and had a pretty decent rookie season, playing 71 games for Winnipeg and just narrowly missing out on team rookie-of-the-year honors. But he struggled in Year 2, and was traded at the 1994 deadline as part of the deal that saw the Wings and Jets swap goaltenders, flipping Bob Essensa for Tim Chevaldae. Bautin's stint in Detroit didn't go well; he lasted exactly one game before Scotty Bowman and the Wings sent him to the minors for being out of shape, reportedly after discovering he was a two-pack-a-day smoker.

Bautin would sign with San Jose in 1995, but once again played just a single game before the team moved on. From there, it was back to Europe, where he finished off his career, and presumably a few more packs of smokes.

Outrage of the week

The issue: The NBA off-season has been way more fun than the NHL's.

The outrage: [Folds arms and pouts.] It's not fair. Is it justified: It's been a rough summer for hockey fans, especially if you know anyone who's into basketball. It's like being a kid on Christmas morning, and watching your friend tear open a ton of cool presents. Blockbuster trades! Free agency intrigue! Front-office shenanigans! Crazy rumors! Look, he even got a traded first overall pick and a big-money offer sheet. You didn't even know those still existed.

Meanwhile, you're sitting there sadly unwrapping your discount Kevin Shattenkirk signing and trying to get excited about an Artemi Panarin trade. At some point, you just want to give up and trudge on back to bed.

It hasn't been all bad. We did get expansion, and that was kind of fun. And we might still get a Matt Duchene deal, if Joe Sakic's foot ever gets sore from continually kicking that can down the road. But yeah, let's not sugarcoat it: Compared to the NBA, our off-season sucks.

And it's nobody's fault, and there's really nothing we can do about it. This is just how the NHL has evolved in the salary cap era. Most GMs are too timid to make big trades. Offer sheets are mysteriously off the table. Teams go all out to make sure they sign all of their top players to long-term deals at the first opportunity, so nobody good ever gets to free agency. And then everyone bolts for the cottage midway through July.

Every now and then we'll get an exciting day, but that's the exception. It's not good or bad. It just is. We may as well accept it.

And sure, it's hard not to feel a little jealous of that NBA fan passed out from sheer excitement in a sea of wrapping paper and major headlines. And now he even gets to care about exhibition games? How spoiled can one kid be?

Ah well. If you're a hockey fan, this is your fate. We may as well make our peace with it.

(And then wait until the playoffs, when you're tearing into a big helping of "anything can happen" and basketball kid is stuck with "this is all pointless because everyone knows Golden State is winning again.")

Classic YouTube clip breakdown

Last week, we used this space to break down the unparalleled genius of Alexei Kovalev, as he shrugged off a vengeful Mike Keenan and labored through the greatest shift in NHL history. At times, Kovalev was the absolute best.

But other times, well, it's safe to say that the Alexei Kovalev Experience had its share of ups and downs. So today, let's balance out the scales with a look back at one of the downs.

youtube

It's April 13, 2004, and Kovalev and the Canadiens are hosting the Bruins in Game 4 of the Eastern Conference quarterfinals. The Bruins are leading the series 2-1, and just scored in the dying seconds of regulation to tie the game. Now we're midway through the second overtime, and it's safe to say that it feels like a must-win for Montreal.

Luckily, Kovalev has the puck in his own zone. I'm sure this will turn out great for Montreal.

Our hero decides to cut along his own blueline, which is a reasonable move given the Bruins forwards are heading off on a line change. But Travis Green reaches out and lightly taps him in the hands on the way by, and tragically this causes Kovalev to immediately die.

Well, OK, not quite die—but it's close enough. Kovalev bails on the play, selling the tap for all its worth in an attempt to draw a penalty. This being playoff overtime, the ref immediately checks to make sure Kovalev's arm is still attached and then puts his whistle away.

Realizing that there's no penalty coming, Kovalev jumps back in the play and delivers a textbook open ice check on the puck carrier. Unfortunately, that puck carrier is teammate Sheldon Souray, and that springs Glenn Murray on a breakaway. Anyone who has every watched hockey knows exactly what's about to happen.

Sure enough, Murray beats Jose Theodore to end the game, and the Bruins pile onto the ice to celebrate.

My favorite part of this clip is the crowd reaction. You can actually isolate the Kubler-Ross five stages of Montreal Canadiens fans watching this play unfold:

1. Ho hum, nothing is happening

2. Oh was kind of a slash

3. Umm guys…

4. UMM GUYS

5. NOOOOOOOOOOO!

(Stage 6, as always, is rioting.)

The celebration pile includes the usual fun sightings. There's Joe Thornton, in the middle of the pointless playoff run that convinced the Bruins they couldn't win with him. There's former Canadian Olympian Rob Zamuner. There's Michael "Father of William and Also That Other One" Nylander.

And there's the Bruins' rookie head coach, who looks vaguely familiar. Yes, it's good old Mike Sullivan, fresh off an impressive 104-point debut. He'd be fired by the end of the following season, and wouldn't get another shot in the NHL until Pittsburgh hired him a decade later, midway through the 2015-16 campaign. Don't tell me how that turns out, I'm going to binge watch the last few seasons over the weekend.

"This is your goal scor-rah…" I love Boston announcers.

We see the Canadiens leaving the ice, and they don't look happy. And they weren't, with Souray and coach Claude Julien both ripping Kovalev after the game for quitting on the play. They're not wrong, but I mean, Souray doesn't look great on this one either, does he? I know he's caught by surprise, but he's standing flat-footed at center ice while a forward breaks out of the zone, and he basically makes the worst possible play with the puck. Are we really going to pretend this is 100 percent Kovalev's fault?

[Thinks about the comedic implications.]

Yeah, this is all Kovalev. Motion carried.

At this point I have to address an issue I'm sure some of you are wondering about: Are we sure Kovalev was really faking here? I know I called it a tap, but Green really does give him a decent hack. Isn't is possible that he's actually hurt, and we're all pointing and laughing at an innocent (and injured) man?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to present Exhibit A, which you may recognize from the case of the murder of the Quebec Nordiques. The prosecution rests.

By the way, that waved-off Sakic goal was so bad that it remains just about the only known instance of the NHL ever coming right out and saying one of its officials screwed up. That play doesn't get anywhere near enough run in the "worst call ever" conversation. Brett Hull and Kerry Fraser and Martin Gelinas were all bad, but none of them ended an entire team.

"Ya gotta suck it up in ovah-time, boys." I really love Boston announcers.

Anyways, the Bruins win to head back home with a 3-1 series lead, the Canadiens are in disarray over Kovalev's boneheaded play, and Boston sportswriters are writing about how this play will live in infamy as the counter to the 1979 too-many-men debacle. Anyone want to guess how the series ends?

Yes, of course, the Canadiens come back to win three straight, and Kovalev had assists on both goals in their 2-0 Game 7 win. As Mike Keenan could tell you, you do not mess with Alexei Kovalev, because he always wins in the end.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at [email protected].

DGB Grab Bag: The Bettman Sentence, Russia's List, and NBA Off-Season Jealousy published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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