#it's fine and life is awesome but it's still a wee shame | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m3r1m4r5u333 · 5 days

Text

I feel like many people misunderstand us, the unhinged, insufferable people with OTPs so. Here's a quick guide into the mind of an rabid buddie shipper.

I'm not clinging to buddie because I fail to see how awesome Buck's bi growth is. I AM BI!!! You think I don't get how awesome this bi character, this story arc, this bi representation is? Get out. Don't tell me, a bisexual how I should watch and experience a bisexual character. I drive my own brain, thanks.

And I know that it's possible to multi-ship. You don't need to tell me that!!

People need to understand that multi-shipping isn't some grand, epic personality trait that always comes with maturity, that the people who don't multiship are just wee dumb babies.

I may sound like I'm 14. I am not. I am very much not. I'm OLD. So old. And guess what that means? I know myself!!! That's maturity, too. And who I am... Is someone who falls hard, and obsessively.

I know I am just not built to be a multi-shipper. I have tried, sometimes. I have tried so hard. And realised, that's just not me. Multi-shipping is never as fun, and interesting or rewarding to me as focusing on my One True Pair. It just makes me feel suffocated, to attempt to like something I don't really find much joy in.

That doesn't mean that I hate the actors or characters who are "getting in the way" of my ship. Nope. I actually often adore the characters and actors, and the writing. I can also see and appreciate what some other character means for my OTP's growth.

Like in this case... Lou, playing Tommy? Not only do I love his acting choices (so funny, so skilled) but he also, he sounds like a lovely guy. I'm a fan!! Also, damn he's fine, I need a bucket for my drool.

And Tommy, the character...? I think the character is interesting - and don't get me started on "problematic", the shaming is futile. I am all in for fucked up, problematic characters. If you don't get why, you should really read some literary classics. Fucked up, problematic characters are art, they make you think, they broaden world-views. My best educators have been the monsters, and I will take this stand to my grave.

Demand for "unproblematic" is demand for censure, and censure is just another form of oppression. Want characters without flaws? Go watch Teletubbies. Ffs, even moomins have flaws. (Of course they do, Tove Jansson was a freaking amazing writer.)

Anyway. The point here is.

I am a mono-shipper. And I love slowburns, I love the romance of them, I get attached to ships. And I'm queer.

But where are the queer slowburns? I have been waiting for a slow-burn queer romance for so long. I CRAVE IT. Getting that, truly, would be queer history, a revolution.

And I see the potential for it in buddie!! The spark, the history, the journey. It has the potential to be the greatest queer slow-burn I've ever experienced.

You think I'd just abandon a ship like that, a slowburn like that, for some fast food, cooked up in what... Two episodes? Pffft. I invest. I am waiting for my roast to cook.

So yeah. I'm not going anywhere. I will watch, and let my freak flag fly, and I will have the time of my life. If buddie never becomes canon? Well so what. I can deal. It's not my first rodeo. Disappointment isn't actually deathly, you know. Trying to avoid disappointment kills hope, and enthusiasm. So yeah, I refuse to manage my expectations. I'm all in, and enjoying this mad ride.

"Well, I'd still take you."

"You think so?"

"I KNOW."

111 notes · View notes

365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

Text

[ @sasuhinamonth || SasuHina Month 2019 || Day Thirteen: Eyes ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Umino Iruka ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

It’s always a shock for those who see them for the first time. The blank, pupiless stare of the Hyūga is one that typically inspires shock at the least, and horror at the worst. Having been kept in her clan’s compound for most of her childhood, Hinata was unprepared for the reactions she would get upon entering the Academy.

To say she got stared at was an understatement.

Most looked openly, making a mixture of faces as they gaped: surprise, revulsion, a sick kind of intrigue. But no one welcomed her warmly, all too put off by her gaze.

Needless to say...she went home crying that afternoon. She’d been raised around those eyes all her life. She could read the emotions in them, see the way they lit or darkened! Was it really so foreign a thing? So...unwanted?

For a time, she endured the staring silently. Part of wanted to try to explain, but words always failed her. Already withdrawn and shy of strangers, trying to rebuke their impressions of her was all but impossible.

But then it grew to taunting.

“What’s with those eyes, anyway? You some kinda monster?”

A group of students - a bit older, also out for free time with her class - had managed to pin her in a corner. One leaned in, hands on their hips and squinting.

“Yeah, only monsters have eyes like that! Weirdo!”

“N-no, I…!” Retreating half a step, she struggled to find a way to reply, to tell them off! But panic was gripping her chest like a vice - it was hard to breathe, let alone control her breath enough to speak.

“You’re a freak, Hyūga! All you Hyūga are freaks!”

“Hey!”

The trio of aggressors looked over their shoulders, beholding someone behind them that Hinata couldn’t see. “...what?”

“Those eyes are special! They can see through anything!”

The ringleader scoffed. “Tch, so they are weird!”

“They can see your chakra, too! If you’re not careful, she’ll use a special jutsu and make your chakra stop. Then you’ll be sorry!”

“Butt out, Uchiha! Nobody cares what you think!”

“Someday I’ll have special eyes too! Like my aniki!”

“I said, no one cares!” About-facing, the group turned fully to instead pin their gaze on their new target. Finally, Hinata could see who it was: Uchiha Sasuke, one of her classmates.

“So, leave her alone! The Hyūga are super strong, y’know. And so are the Uchiha!” Drawing a pair of kunai, he scowled at them. “Don’t underestimate us!”

“Get ‘em! Don’t let him -!”

Cutting off with a grunt, the middle kid staggered...and then collapsed.

Behind him, palm raised and panting, was Hinata.

The other two gaped, taking half steps back.

“L...l-leave him alone!” she demanded, trying to look determined. After all...if he was going to help her, then she’ll help him!

“All right, all right! What’s going on out here?” Finding the squabble, Iruka gave a sharp frown. “Hinata! What did you do?”

“...I-I…!”

“They were making fun of her!” Sasuke piped up, stepping up and still holding his kunai. “They were gonna fight us, they said so!”

Giving the other three a glance, Iruka recognized the three troublemakers, able to put two and two together. “...well, there’s no fighting during free time. I’ll let it slide this time. You two, carry your friend into the infirmary so he can rest through that Jūken strike. He’ll be fine in a bit. And no more bothering underclassmen! Shame on you!”

Ducking sheepishly, the two remaining bullies took up their friend by the arms, half-carrying and half-dragging him into the building.

Iruka sighed, folding his arms. “...are you two all right?”

Sasuke just nodded, Hinata looking ashamed. “I...I-I’m sorry, Iruka-sensei…”

“It’s okay to defend yourself, Hinata.”

“They were making fun of her eyes! I told ‘em to stop, and they got mad, and said they were gonna beat us up!”

“Those three are always stirring up trouble,” the chūnin muttered. “I’m sorry they did that to you, Hinata...are you sure you’re okay?”

A pause, and then a tiny nod.

Considering her, Iruka then offered, “...I think...we’ll have a special lesson this afternoon. A little something about some kekkei genkai, and why we shouldn’t be afraid of them. Shino was being harassed the other day about his kikaichu...maybe we just need to clear the air, hm?”

At once, both students perk up. “You...you would really…?”

Softly, Iruka smiled. “I can’t have my students being made to feel bad about themselves…! Your eyes are special, Hinata. Just like Shino’s bugs, or, Sasuke’s Sharingan. It’s nothing to be made fun of for, hm?”

Blinking wide eyes, Hinata then smiled to herself, head ducking shyly. “M...mhm…!”

“Well, we still have some free time left. I’ll see you two when we go back to class!”

Waving, the pair watched him go before turning to each other.

“T...thank you for, um...f-for standing up for me, Sasuke-kun.”

“They were just being jerks,” Sasuke affirmed, folding his arms with a nod and a grim face. “I couldn’t let them do that to you! My dad says the Byakugan is strong! Well...not as strong as the Sharingan, but...pretty close!”

Before she could stop it, Hinata giggled into a hand at the comparison. The little rivalry between the clans was one she already knew of. “Well...e-either way, I...I’m glad you did.”

“You coulda handled them, though! The way you knocked that guy over, it was awesome! Can all Hyūga do that?”

“M...most of us, yeah.”

At that, the bell rang, and they both startled. “...well, better go back to class, huh?”

“Yeah…”

Walking beside her, Sasuke folded hands behind his head, still peppering her with questions. In a way, it made her a little nervous...but there was also a warmth in her chest at the attention. Maybe...she was finally making a friend.

.oOo.

For some reason this prompt gave me trouble! I wasn't quite sure how to take it, so...here's some smols being friends and bonding over kekkei genkai! Sasuke and Hinata being childhood friends is just so...*chef's kiss* I love it. So any time I write them as wee ones I have to have them be friends, lol Anywho, that's all for now! Thanks for reading n_n

#sasuhina #sasuhinamonth #sasuhinamonth2019 #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #umino iruka #a light amongst shadows [ canon verse ]

29 notes · View notes

aj-the-satyr · 5 years

Text

All the Questions......

So Tag games...... Used to do ‘em a lot then kinda fell off writing for a while and then it got quiet. Well now I got tagged in 3 of those 11/11/11 things. You know the ones answer 11 questions, ask 11 more to the 11 people you tag. Well I’m not going to tag anyone other than the 3 people asking @writersblockandapotoftea @carrotgirl-1 and @rosewinterborn and say thankyou for doing so. So here goes..... the goat tries to get through all 33 questions.

1) Do you hide any secrets in your books that only a few people will find?

Hmm.... I suppose that I have a habit of making the names of both things and characters have deeper meanings. Like Grigory Zmeya, his last name means snake and he is a snake shifter type person. So stuff like that.

2) If you could ask one successful author three questions about their writing, writing process or books what would they be?

Not sure about this. I’ve read interviews with many authors where they have dispensed their advice and advice is not a one size fits all thing but I would lie to ask more personal things like favorite characters, Least favorite scene to write and most surprising side character. Stuff like that.

3) Do you have a library membership?

Nope.

4) Ebooks, yay or nay?

Used them and they are fine but I am the old school like to have the physical book in my hands kinda goat.

5) What feeling do you want your readers to get from what you write?

Wow, deep question. Enjoyment? Other than that I’d like them to have feelings for different characters, to pick favorites, to hate some and love some. I suppose I’d like my characters to be memorable but I will settle for the “That was Good” feeling after reading, even if nothing gets carried with them.

6) What time of day are you most productive?

Considering how many times I’ve written my snippets after 10pm and into the wee hours of the morning, I’d say then.

7) What is your writing Kryptonite?

Myself really. There are times I just get conflicted about my writing and rather than just let it flow and let the characters lead I will find myself deleting things and starting over many times. I’m trying to do that less but it’s hard sometimes to just let go and see what happens at the keyboard.

8) Which scenes are your favorite to write?

Huh....... I’m a dialogue heavy writer trying to get more description into my scenes so I favor just talking but am trying to change that a little.

9) What comes first in your development/outlining process plot or characters?

Well considering I don’t outline anymore (Used to waaaaay back) It would have to be characters. Make the characters and pop them in a setting. Plot will happen, hopefully.

10) What is your favorite novel to film/TV adaptadion?

Comic books count right? I love the Constantine TV show. Shame it got cancelled, love the fact they brought the character back for Legends of Tomorrow and the fact he might be getting his own show again is awesome. Love Constantine.

11) Do you think yourself as more of an artist or entertainer?

Neither really. Not something I’ve ever thought about, since you are asking me to think about it...... entertainer??

Right onto the second set of questions gonna add a read more break here to avoid taking up huge chunks of Tumblr real estate and for those people that don’t really care what this old goat has to say

12) Play fuck, marry, kill with Gandalf, Aragon and Arwen.

Er........ Kill Gandalf.... no wait he’ll come back for revenge..... Kill Aragon..... man that would be hard to do..... Kill Arwen then? But I wanted to marry her.......... Man...... Kill Aragon with Gandalf’s help, fuck Gandalf as payment and then go off to marry Arwen. Problem solved.

13) If you had to set fire to a famous building, which one would you set alight?

The Vatican?

14) If you could bring someone back from the dead who would it be?

It would be Sandra, a friend I made for a brief time on the internet who I RP’d with and had a good rapport with. She died of cancer at 20 I think, it’s hard to think about. I do always remember that I talked to her through her brother in her final days and managed to make her smile, something her brother told me she hadn’t done for weeks. Crying typing this. Yeah. Fuck yeah I’d bring her back and let her live her life. Fuck Cancer.

15) Which fictional Universe would you go into?

Star Trek. No need for money, could sit at a cafe and write all day. Great.

16) Where would you go if the world ended?

Hell. Oh wait that’s not what you were asking. Er...... nowhere. No point if it’s all gone is there? I’d stay here and still be a loner. Wow..... fun goat answers.

17) What’s you alignment?

Chaotic Neutral.

18) Lovecraft or Shelly?

Er....... as much as I love Cosmic Horror Mary Shelly was one of the most badass goths there has been. Plus the whole creating the sci-fi genre as a fuck you to Lord Byron. She is amazing and doesn’t get enough respect.

19) What’s the weirdest food you have eaten?

Sea Urchin or deep fried shrimp heads not sure which I think was weirder.

20) How do you want to die?

Die? I’m immortal. Or is that immoral? One of those.

21) Who is your least favorite character to write?

Probably The Professor since he’s a homophobic bigot who killed his own son’s boyfriend (Though he claims that was merely an accidental oversight of his grander plan) since he is not a very nice character at all. Makes my skin crawl.

22) What’s your favourite fairy tale?

Can’t say that I really have one. None of them resonate anymore, neither the grimdark originals or the fluffed up modern takes. I do however enjoy the book Dragon’s Bait by VIvian Vande Velde which is about a 15yr old girl who is put out as a sacrifice to a Dragon and ends up allying with the dragon and seeking revenge.

One more set. Almost there with the goat interrogation.

23) When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

Probably in University where I started writing a little something called “Space Gerbils” and was sending it out via email to about a dozen internet friends. They were hooked, I thought it was garbage but voila! The spark ignited. Heavily got into tabletop RPGs at the same time so that probably helped my desire for storytelling.

24) What book/Book series have you always meant to read but have not yet?

The Long Earth series by Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter. I have a boxed set of them all but I just haven’t cracked the cover yet.

25) Who’s you favourite writer?

Published? Either Sir Terry Pratchett or Eoin Colfer. But a special shoutout goes to @yuutfa for Caster. They are a wonderful storyteller and got many an emotion from me while I was reading an early draft.

26) What was your favourite book as a child?

It is one that sits on my shelf this very moment. It is called “Science Fantasy Stories” and is a collection of short stories that I read many times over as a child, back when I would consume a book a day almost.

27) Favorite music to work to?

Soundcloud generally has my back but it does sometimes throw up the odd track that makes me question if its algorithm has developed some sort of twisted intelligence Black Mirror style.

28) Hogwarts House?

Ah..... this question. I’ve read the books, saw a couple of the movies (Did not like the movies) and enjoyed every step of the way. I bought my first Harry Potter books when they were selling the first 3 as a set so I jumped in to see what the fuss was about. Never once have I thought about what House I would be in. Never. So Imma gonna say Slytherin.

29) Hobbies?

Writing?? Generally I play vidja games. Current faves being Monster Hunter World (PC), Endless Legend (PC) and Crash team racing nitro fueled (PS4) and I also daydream scenes with my characters in them. Trying to get back into reading regularly again.

30) Where do you draw Inspiration from?

Everywhere I guess. From random conversations to ideas had after playing games, watching TV or reading books. Sometimes I’m not sure where the inspiration comes from but I am just trying to let myself go at those moments, run with it. Who cares if The Simpsons already did it? Truly new ideas aren’t new anyway. (Except maybe for theoretical physics, that shit is bananas) I mean one of my characters basically declared themselves to be a God (At least in my head) after I read an article on Retrocausality. Inspiration can come from anywhere. Use it!

31) What do you consider your aesthetic to be?

Look I can barely spell that word you want me to have one as well?

32) Favorite mythology?

Favorite mythology of AJ the Satyr................

33) What do you think influences your work the most?

My co author?? But seriously working things out with them has been very helpful but also there’s this little writing discord that I’m part of that is really welcoming and a great source of inspiration and ideas. But all in all I think Neil Gaiman influences me the most when he answered a question about how he does it. He told the person asking that you just write everything down that happens in the first draft and then when you go back and rewrite you make it look like you knew what you were doing all along.

Right. One Goat, 33 Questions. And I won! Not tagging anyone else but I want this to get me going on these tag games. I can’t just hide in the dark corners of Tumblr anymore. I must face the light! Has @notanotherhour done this yet??

#Tag game I guess #Not tagging anyone else in this nightmare #Writeblr #About Me #I answered the questions #Yay writing!

7 notes · View notes

shewasanamericangirl · 5 years

Text

screamin bout zi-o 36

i had fun doing this last week, so let’s make another screencap post! of course, i said that, and then it took several days to upload all the pictures because tumblr just stops fucking working sometimes. anyhoo! it’s yuko kitajima roast hour. image-heavy and spoiler-heavy, naturally.

so ginga blew everyone up and they ran away to a sewer it seems.

honestly that theory makes as much sense as anything else on this booty ass fuckin’ kamen rider show

i was just like...he isn’t

but then he was

swartz: she could step on me in those red pumps and i’d say Thank You

hora: i regret so much right now

uhr: *shonen anime character walking down the street pose*

then over quartzer plays and im starting to feel a little lost because i don’t get to hear about the episode according to woz’s book? hello??

yuko’s still out gettin her spa treatments and shit, god only knows how she got the money for all that, and somehow she never crosses paths with the cops or anyone who recognizes her from the news?? uh

honestly yeah?? a queen deserves to look GOOD. her theme music is eerily sexy, i need an mp3 of it right now

don’t get me wrong, im well aware that swartz is being a suck-up to try and get yuko to help with his plan to seize ginga’s power, but damn im kinda shipping swartz with yuko now too...i mean, he WAS looking at her while doing the sexy ice cream thing last week. what flavor ice cream would yuko be? black cherry chip maybe?

(headcanon: woz tries apple pie ice cream and declares it a crime against both apple pie and ice cream alike--but he still eats the whole coneful)

hora and uhr get ZA WARUDO’D down the stairs by swartz

we were all uhr right here

yeaaaaaah she just doesn’t want to fight ginga

tsukuyomi’s a mood. someone put a band-aid on geiz’s forehead pls

ok woz i get that if you’re looking for a despotic ruler to follow that yuko is likely a better bet than sougo, but you’re missing an important detail: if yuko actually had a shot at becoming queen of everything, she’d already have one of you in tow, and you would most likely hate each other.

...majou means “demon queen” in this case, not “witch”, right?

aaaaaand this...is the moment when yuko started making me very uncomfortable. the way she responds: “yes...i do remember. it’s you.”

and sougo’s face just lights up--my guy, she could so easily be lying. she didn’t say one thing about the band-aid or the playground or anything that’d indicate she’s actually sougo’s crush.

like...if not for the fact that sougo had such a crush on the seifuku girl, it wouldn’t be all that major a memory. it likely wasn’t for the girl in question--just a happy sunny day cheering up a lonely little boy. a beautiful memory, yes...but memories fade.

can someone please explain to me why woz’s characterization is all over the place in kiva arc? are you pro-yuko or anti-yuko, woz? i don’t understand what’s going through his pretty head at all honestly. he gets pretty taciturn in the scenes he’s not inhaling pie, but then at times he seems to think yuko’s cool aaaaaagh i don’t know

junichiro: meowing, just wanted an excuse to cook lots of food

sougo: “yay, uncle’s cooking!”

woz: [deadpan monotone] “yaaaaaaay uncle’s cooking...”

ive had enough of this evil bitch honestly but when she points it’s still Good Shit

ridiculous move name, but also an awesome move name

and turning to stone to heal up while the sun’s clouded over? very cool

denied

i noped so hard at this part. like...i really do feel protective of sougo. yuko doesn’t give a damn about him, she just doesn’t want him to get in her way.

nope. no. nuh uh. you two step away from each other right now.

YOU CANNOT MAKE BABIES WITH AN IDIOT FETUS

ok but in all seriousness, do you want time jackers? because, im calling it now, letting oma zi-o go in raw is how you get time jackers.

yeah im pretty sure miho would’ve kept at it if she’d lived, and yuko...shes not gonna listen to sougo

thank you for the much needed reality check furry man

so she’s a...fu-joshi? 👀

☝☝☝

yuko wears such fabulous shoes

was anyone surprised at this point that yuko was the real killer? i sure wasn’t. not after all the obvious lies.

i love her leitmotif. i need it. where do i download

SHE DIDN’T PROMISE SHIT

hey kids! it’s time for *mashes play button* la-la-la lies! yeah, tell me that you love me! la-la-la-lies! look deep into my eyes! la-la-la-lies! say there’s no one else above me! i’m the king of fools, cuz baby, you’re the queen of actually very hurtful and manipulative lies!

that’s such bullshit

now im the last person to be like “don’t play the dead mommy card”--i practically keep that card in the hello kitty wallet my dead mommy gave me. but i bet you yuko’s mom is just fine (aside from living with the trauma of knowing her daughter’s a murderer and pathological liar).

sougo,,,,,pls

thank you tsukuyomi. god sougo really needs a chaperone with yuko around, he’s way too dumb and thirsty.

GUESS WHO’S BACK. BACK AGAIN. fortunately, it seems swartz and woz have been just standing there watching him for the duration of the rain shower.

lest we forget (because i didn’t screencap it), when zi-o took the brunt of ginga’s attack earlier, it sent him flying. now, that’s a human body, which has some ability to absorb force because it’s mostly pretty soft and fluid. yuko’s manhole cover almost completely absorbed this blast--she barely shifted her weight on impact. is it just that she’s THAT ripped?

then The Boys rider kick ginga to oblivion. rip ginga, you didn’t have a personality or a character arc, we never even saw you un-transformed--you were just a cool looking plot device with pretty attacks. but for that much, we appreciate you!

swartz looks so pleased with himself. he must not have watched the preview for this episode.

YOINK! gotta love how swartz doesn’t look surprised so much as puzzled.

sure am glad kurowoz took his other self’s advice and kept an eye on swartz

i love it so much how woz just has these magic scarf powers and it needs no explanation? hell, he can fly and time travel and make people fall asleep and he’s super strong too, with no explanation? and he’s the comic relief? ALSO HE’S REALLY HOT? woz is a being to behold honestly

speaking of super strong and really hot, yuko is KILLING IT in that gown. i mean...i guess that’s the intention. killing it. cuz she’s a homicidal maniac. haha.

she’s so good at pointing. yuko could be a prosecutor in shuichi kitaoka: ace attorney. (FUND IT)

yuko throws her manhole cover at the boys (rude!) and next we see geiz holding it. a shame we don’t get to see him snatch it out of midair. or did woz catch it and just hand it to him? we may never know.

zi-o. listen to geiz, zi-o. use the fucking watch. just use the watch, zi-o. you seriously plan on just letting another kiva go on a killing spree? do you not get by now what she’s capable of?

thank goodness zi-o has his retainers to make wise decisions so he doesn’t have to.

please note the placement of mars on ginga woz’s suit. very important.

I Love You

lmao

WHERE IS YOUR MANHOLE COVER NOW

my favorite character gets a beautiful rainbow final attack. i feel so blessed.

i mean...protecting all mankind would probably include protecting them from people like yuko. just sayin.

is it bad of me that my immediate thought right then was “at least woz’s attack wasn’t what did her in.”

this shot, especially in the context of the church, definitely gave me pieta vibes--albeit reversed somewhat.

weirdly enough, woz does an outro instead of an intro this episode.

at this point while watching, i said to shylax “you know what this calls for? pie!” but before i could finish--

--PIE! cmon sougo, it’s time to gobble up your feelings!

fucking woz, i swear, you have pie in your mouth and pie in your right hand and pie on your FACE and when your overlord expresses how miserable he is you just go for his uneaten pie with your empty hand.

...is it normal to eat pie like this in japan? because the only times i’ve seen americans make this much of a mess eating pie is when they’re toddlers.

oh hey, what do you know? looks like sougo’s first love wasn’t a violent crazy person after all. she also wasn’t yuko.

sougo’s just an idiot who will mistake any older woman who rubs him on the chin and calls him cute for his sailor girl.

previews!

i blame joshua kiryu

how eloquently this one line sums up not only kamen rider zi-o but kamen rider decade as well. that’s it, that’s the show. that’s the clusterfuck we will inevitably get whenever toei decides to make a kamen rider crossover.

LOOK AT THIS! TSUKUYOMI REMEMBERED SOMETHING! who is she smiling at? is it her dad? is that swartz behind her?! omg baby tsukuyomi is so CUTE!

“a team”. uh huh. is that what the youth are calling it these days? cuz when i was a wee lass, i believe they called it “fucking”.

so what have we learned this week?

very little about ginga

sougo does not remember faces all that well

before sougo dates ANYONE that person should be fully vetted by junichiro, geiz, tsukuyomi, and woz because CLEARLY HE CANNOT SAFELY CHOOSE A PARTNER FOR HIMSELF

i still really like yuko as a character, if not as a person. same as i enjoy junji ito manga, but would be very upset if most of it happened in real life.

swartz loves a woman who can kick his ass

what the fuck are manhole covers in this world

i can’t wait for baby tsukuyomi flashbacks! that, and more tsukasa.

#kamen rider zi o #drag yuko 2k19

9 notes · View notes

cuppatealove · 3 years

Text

I'm sad because I only have room in my soul for one or two obsessions at a time, and despite my best efforts, writing is just not winning at the moment. Which would be fine, except that, unlike all my other little hobbies and obsessions, this one has an audience. And while I'm rational enough to realise that I'm not the Worst Person for having been stuck on my current WIP chapter for a disgraceful amount of time, I can't help but picture my readers as expectant little puppies with eager eyes and wagging tails, and that sucks, and I want to be better, and I fail, and that sucks.

#feeling morose #and missing carefree days of yore where I had more time #it's fine and life is awesome but it's still a wee shame #writing #not fishing for compliments I promise

4 notes · View notes

illuminating-dragons · 7 years

Text

By Any Name (3/11): Brussels

Chapter Summary: In which there are waffles, knives and odd statues.

Read it on AO3

He might have had to get up at half four to pull it off, but the result was worth it. John grinned up at his ‘father’ and received a hearty scowl under salt and pepper hair that was mostly salt. Sherlock looked at least sixty, which was saying something considering the detective still looked twelve in the wrong light.

Standing near the palace, Sherlock was peering at his notebook.

“Give it a rest!” John groaned. “The answer’s not going to just appear because you looked long enough!” His accent was getting much better. Several people had talked down to him today, mistaking him for American, and he was already getting tired of directing them to his maple leaf pin.

“It has to be here!” Sherlock insisted in a gravelly voice. “This is the last bunch of code.”

One of Sherlock’s Belgian informants had passed them the string of coded messages yesterday, detailing the movements of a drug ring running through Brussels out to France on one end and the Netherlands on the other.

Drug rings were always interesting cases, but the leader of this ring sold more than drugs. Lars Bernard was born to a Dutch prostitute and a Lille-Europe shopkeeper, and in sixty years of life had sold more than both his parents combined, everything from women to human eyes to fake paintings. And yes, the clients knew they were faked.

Every authority with half a brain knew that Bernard was involved up to his neck, but there was no way to touch him. A few knew that Bernard had weak spots, but the dangers involved made them hesitant to move.

Only Sherlock, and presumably Mycroft, knew that Bernard was a perfectionist, a sportsman and was a major player in the Western Europe section of the ‘Web’ (that was John’s word, ‘network’ sounded dull). If one of his projects were to go wrong, and he were beaten by a worthy opponent, he would concede the game with good grace. At that moment, he might be amenable to giving up his contacts, putting a halt to several major trafficking rings.

And sure enough, when Sherlock approached him through Mycroft, threatening to expose him, Bernard obliged by supplying Sherlock’s informant with the first clue to locating the drops for his group of Brusselois drug-runners. Each drop site would provide a scrap of incriminating information, a clue to the next spot and, patronizingly, some candy.

John refused to eat it.

Simple enough in theory, damn near impossible to do when their only lead to one of the man’s projects was a bunch of chicken-scratch code.

The informant might get good information, but his handwriting was atrocious. This complicated what Sherlock was sure was a simple code. John couldn’t help him. Doctors were supposed to have bad handwriting, but he’d never seen anything like this.

In the last twenty-four hours they had found three of the drop-points for information outlined in the code, each time collecting another piece of information about the boss. They were very close, but without the last piece—his address—Bernard was as far away as ever.

“What does it say?” John asked.

“That we need to look below the wee child,” Sherlock growled. “That is demonstrably unhelpful. We’ll have to start looking for midgets, I suppose.”

“Isn’t it dwarfs?”

“Whatever.”

John frowned. Brussels was somewhat familiar territory for him, having spent a weekend there with friends partway through his undergraduate degree. Thanks to the city’s famed abundance of bars, he didn’t remember much, but there was something about that description…

“Is the man we got this from Scottish?”

“No, he’s from Bruges.” Sherlock glanced at him. “Why?”

“Well, why would he say wee, then? Gran barely said that, and she was pure Scot. Could it mean something else?”

“The only other definition of that word is weird to apply to a child, don’t you think?”

John snapped his fingers. “Manneken Pis.”

“Little Man Pee?” Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

“It’s this really old fountain with a little peeing child in the city centre. People love it.”

Sherlock kept staring at him.

“Haven’t you noticed all the pictures of it? All the souvenir shops have them, Dad, come on.”

Another pause.

“Whyyyy?”

“I’m not sure,” John replied, grinning as Sherlock’s face drooped with confusion. “There’s lots of stories about who the kid is and why he’s important, but everyone really likes him.”

Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. “If everyone likes this…Manneken Pis, then I’m assuming it’ll be crowded.”

John thought back fifteen years, but couldn’t remember much more than a blur of beer and fries. “I think so. I mean, it’s a tourist spot, right?”

“Well, we’d better go scope it out,” Sherlock said. He began to walk, his cane banging the ground every other step.

It wasn’t a long walk to the statue as the crow flies, but John’s memories of Brussels were coming back more strongly, aided by cold fall air and the thrill of the chase. He remembered these streets, getting lost, getting way too many chips—no, fries—and having beer and waffles for breakfast with one of the girls from Neuroscience.

Sherlock didn’t chivy him as much as usual, partly because he was walking slowly, hampered by his old man image, and partly because John was, for the most part, still moving. Finally, though, John stopped and stared in surprise, and Sherlock hobbled back.

“Jake, hurry up! We haven’t got all day!”

“Sorry,” John gestured to the small mall. “I just didn’t think this place would still be here!”

Sherlock peered at it through ridiculous glasses. “What’s in there?”

“It’s this awesome waffle place, best place in Brussels for them,” John answered. “I ate here when I was here with…Sonia.”

Sonia was Jake’s fiancée, and this was the city they met. Jake and his dad were doing a tour to plan a scavenger hunt for his proposal, which explained why two Canadians were looking for very specific places in Brussels.

In reality, Sonia was the Neuroscience girl, now happily married to a very rich, kind man and the mother of six children. They still sent Christmas cards to each other.

Sherlock’s eyes softened. “Why don’t we go there for supper? We’ll see if they’d be willing to do something for when Sonia comes over.”

John grinned, trying to look bashful. “Sounds great. But you’re right, we need to get going. One last place on the list!”

“This is impossible.”

Sherlock’s tone matched John’s frustration.

An enormous crowd of tourists were jammed together in a tiny alley, trying to find the right angle to snap pictures of the fence-encased fountain. No one was fighting—yet—but John couldn’t help but notice the pickpockets poised for action. In a crowd this size, a riot might be useful to them.

“There’s no way this is the right place,” Sherlock muttered. “Nobody in their right mind would use this as a dropping place, it’s too crowded.”

John tried to be hopeful. “Maybe it’s only this bad during the day?” He knew that was wrong, though—Brussels nightlife was huge and went on for hours, especially in this neighbourhood.

“Let’s come back later,” Sherlock decided. He started shuffling away, and John followed closely. “There’s plenty to see, we can have waffles for supper and then we can have an early night.”

“Sounds good, Dad.” So they would come back later, about three or four. That sounded like a good idea.

After John goaded Sherlock into a waffle eating contest—which Sherlock won, to his annoyance, saying “I guess you inherited your mother’s stomach,”—they went back to their hotel. There was no point waiting around the Manneken Pis for their things to be stolen or for someone to get suspicious, and Sherlock wanted to do something about his wig. He failed, which was excellent.

What was not excellent was walking back to the Manneken Pis at half three in the morning. There were still a fair amount of people around, but they weren’t all the friendly sort. John knew he could defend himself, and obviously Sherlock would be fine, fake hobble and all, but they didn’t look that way. They probably looked like easy pickings, a young man and an aging father (ha), clearly tourists. They even had a map for God’s sake, clutching it in the dark.

Sherlock seemed to stumble, and John reached out to catch him without thinking. Sherlock leaned on his arm heavily.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

John nearly startled, but controlled himself as they turned a corner.

“I’ve got a few tricks in this cane,” Sherlock continued, in his normal voice. “Shame you don’t limp anymore, I could have made you one when we got home.”

John stifled a laugh. Was this a test? “That was your fault,” he whispered in his Canadian accent. “Still, sorry.”

“Very Canadian of you.”

John did laugh that time.

A few minutes later they were in front of Manneken Pis, mercifully alone. The fence wasn’t terribly high, but John knew he couldn’t get over it on his own. He turned to Sherlock and found him already bent, extending his hands, cane lying on the ground.

“Shut up, eh?” he growled. Sherlock boosted him without saying anything, but in the dim moonlight John caught his smirk.

Once Sherlock joined him on the other side they both looked up at the smiling, urinating child. It looked really bizarre in the moonlight, and John wondered briefly about their opponent’s sense of humour.

“Where would it be?” John whispered.

“It said below,” Sherlock whispered back, “so it must be below.” He stepped forward and ran his hand along the wall beneath the statue, just above the fountain. John watched him, a niggling feeling of doubt in his mind. Was this really it? This was a giant landmark in Brussels, something it was known for. Why would this be a drug drop? It was taking ‘hiding in plain sight’ a bit far.

Something was wrong.

He figured that out just as the knife whizzed past his shoulder.

“Look out!” he shouted.

Sherlock pushed him to the ground as a second knife sailed through the bars, narrowly missing the detective. John was shaken from the fall, but he managed to glance up and look for their attackers. Four figures in casual street clothes, standing about twenty feet away. They looked like teenagers, but John felt a chill. Neither he nor Sherlock had heard them on the cobblestone street, and that didn’t make sense unless these kids were trained.

Teenage assassins. Lovely.

One of them shouted something in Dutch, which John still didn’t know. Sherlock kept silent, his arm still in front of John.

“Venez-ici!”

They couldn’t be serious. Come here? Yes, that was the intelligent thing to do. Climb over the fence and present a better target, that was clearly the optimal solution. To John’s horror, Sherlock stood up, motioning for John to do the same. “What do you want?” he asked, Canadian accent back in place.

“Both of you, climb over the fence, now!” the apparently trilingual assassin replied.

John followed Sherlock’s lead, scrambling over the fence. They stood in front of the protection of the fence, weaponless.

“Now what?” John snapped, now on his feet.

A knife in his calf was his answer.

John cried out, more in shock than pain, and crumpled to the ground. The knife was stuck in his leg, and he had to bend at an extremely awkward angle to keep from driving it in any further.

Sherlock stepped in front of him. “That was a mistake,” he said coldly.

John tried to get up, leaning against the fence, but Sherlock waved his hand at him. “Stay down, I’ll handle these children.”

“And how will you do that?” the leader asked politely.

Sherlock bent down and picked up his cane. “Like this.”

Shooting pains were going up and down John’s leg. He hadn’t been hurt like this in ages, and it was hard to concentrate.

Even in that condition, he could tell that Sherlock was fantastic.

In a matter of seconds the assassins were out cold on the ground, and Sherlock was kneeling next to him. He pulled the knife out with one swift movement, wrapping his scarf around his calf and tying it tightly before John had a chance to cry out. “Are you alright? Can you walk?”

Nodding, John tried once more to get up and failed. Sherlock caught him before he fell, helping him to rise with an arm around his waist.

“Let’s go back to the hotel and have a look at that,” he said. “We’ll get a cab, they won’t ask questions if you’re quiet. We’ll be safe soon, don’t worry.”

John took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to keep from moaning. When he was sure he could talk, all that came out was, “I’m sorry I was wrong.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sherlock insisted, dialling for a cab as he kept a firm hold on John. “It’s alright, we’ll be fine soon.”

Twenty minutes later, John was in bed, leg bandaged expertly and with a mug of hot tea and a plate of biscuits. He felt unreasonably cold, even for October, and the sugar was to help with shock.

But was he really in shock? Yes, the knife was a surprise, but he knew he was in a dangerous situation. He hadn’t gone into shock in Afghanistan once while wounded, not even when he got shot in the shoulder.

Sherlock was sitting on his bed, watching John intently.

“Can you stop staring at me please?” John asked, exhausted. “Take a photo or something.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Sherlock asked for the eighty-fifth time.

“I’m fine, honestly. It’s not going to be pleasant walking for a while, but I’ll keep up.”

Sherlock still looked worried.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right? I got it wrong, remember?”

“You didn’t get it wrong,” Sherlock corrected him. “Clearly that place is significant, otherwise the Assassin’s Minor League wouldn’t have found us. It was probably just a trap.”

That didn’t really help. Even if he’d gotten it right, John had still led them into a trap.

“Anyways,” Sherlock said, and now there was a glint of humour in his eyes, “might want to leave that off the Sonia-trip.”

John chuckled. Then he sat bolt upright, nearly upsetting both tea and biscuit-plate.

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked sharply.

“Sonia,” John said dazedly.

“Yes…your fiancée, remember?”

“No, the Sonia from uni. We were here together, that trip. She was really upset about the Manneken Pis…”

“Not surprisingly, that statue borders on the pornographic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. And that’s not the point! The point is that Sonia was angry because the little girl statue didn’t get near as much attention.”

There was a pause. Sherlock’s eyes widened.

“A little girl?”

“Yes!” John nearly punched the air. “Jenny, I think. Sonia was feminist enough that it bothered her that the boy statue was super crowded and hardly anyone knew that the little girl even existed.”

Sherlock whipped out his mobile. In thirty seconds he had it. “She’s right near the Delirium Café! That’s not far from here.” He got up quickly, and then stopped. “Will you be alright by yourself?”

John smiled tolerantly. “Are you mad? I’m not bleeding or infected, I’ve got tea and biscuits and a nice bed for a cheap hotel. I’ll be fine, you go and find the last piece. Just be careful, alright?”

Sherlock hesitated. “You’ll call straight away if you need me?”

“Scout’s honour,” John promised. “Go on!”

Sherlock went for the door, tucking his cane under his arm.

“Dad?” John asked.

Sherlock turned abruptly.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

Sherlock smiled quickly. “I told you I could.” Then he was out the door.

Fighting a yawn, John drained his mug and sleepily ate one last biscuit before setting mug and plate on the nightstand. He switched out the light before easing himself down so he was reclining, propped up by Sherlock’s pillows.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, hoping that Sherlock would be back to wake him up soon with good news. Even with his leg hurt, he wanted to help arrest this bastard.

He still felt sort of shocky though, and didn’t know why. What was so odd about this evening?

Will you be all right by yourself?

Ah, that was it.

No one had ever asked John that, either in word or deed. He’d spent a lot of his life alone, the people around him from family to teachers to colleagues not bothering about him because he was so good, so quiet, he didn’t need supervision. No one bothered to ask if he needed care, companionship…attention of any kind. He learned not to ask for it.

So it wasn’t the first time someone had taken care of him, nor even the first time someone fought for him. It was just the first time someone checked on him to see that he was alright, and was willing to stay with him if not.

Not a big deal, just new.

With that sorted, John fell asleep.

He woke several hours later to “Look who’s here!”

John sat bolt upright in bed, cursing as he reached for his leg. Sherlock was grinning at him in the morning light. Next to him was a tall, balding man with a long face and square glasses, who was handcuffed and looked rather sheepish.

“Good morning, Jake,” the man said. Sherlock gestured to the table and the man sat down in the far chai. “I apologize for my assistants, I’m afraid they got a bit carried away last night.”

John was trying to wake up, but this didn’t seem quite right. “You’re Lars Bernard?” The man looked more like a schoolteacher, for Christ’s sake, not the head of a black market Tesco.

“You don’t look very formidable yourself, but your father assures me you had an instrumental part in bringing me down.” Bernard peered at him calmly.

“That’s right,” Sherlock confirmed. He sat across from Bernard. “Now, what we need to know is every single detail of your organization, as well as your contacts.”

“Well,” Bernard said slowly, “you certainly beat me, but my colleagues are another matter.”

“But that’s not right,” John replied, feeling more awake by the second. He sat up all the way. “If you had won this…challenge, your colleagues would have been safe. You lost, so shouldn’t they have consequences too?”

Sherlock flashed him a proud smile, and Bernard laughed. “He takes after his father, I see.”

“He’ll be a better man than me someday,” Sherlock corrected. “Now, about those names…”

#sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #john and sherlock #sherlock season 2 AU #acme146 fanfiction #crosspost #brussels #friendship fic #by any name

0 notes