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sneezemonster15 · 2 years

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I have written a little about how Sakura is written to be irrelevant throughout the narrative by Kishi, and as a result, demeaning her character through the literary tool of subversion. Here's another example of how Kishimoto makes Sakura's character redundant and very intently makes her the laughingstock of the manga. Like I have mentioned before, he gets some kind of perverse pleasure out of showing both Hinata and Sakura down and he would go a painstakingly intricate and at times, long way to do it too.

I will be publishing a longer write up about this subversion that Kishi uses for Sakura as an answer to an ask but I am writing this particular post separately because this bunch of chapters portray a series of incidents where Kishi really does it without any subtlety and is pretty in your face about it too, like you can viscerally feel his disdain towards Sakura's character just wafting over and it has made her a huge target for ridicule, it has become a ubiquitous topic for very popular jokes and memes even outside the fandom, lol.

Okay, so the chapter I am talking about is chapter 675 where Sakura has just been kamui'd out by Obito from his space time dimension to protect her from Madara's attack after she fails to stab his rinnegan eye. But she never had much determination to speak of unless it had to do with showing off to Sasuke and Naruto, mostly Sasuke. What is interesting to notice is that it also pointedly harks back to something else that she did (or didn't do lol) with her kunai which resulted in a frustrated and (greatly) annoyed audience, courtesy Kishi.

Her nervous expression, the trembling kunai just centimetres away from its target but unable to reach it, failure to do it anyway, giving an opening to her opponent that could have easily been avoided had she been a little more resolute (no one really asked her to take on Sasuke though, that was her own decision given her poor sense of judgment, fighting strategy and skills), getting attacked by the opponent and then getting rescued by someone. Mostly Naruto.

#Redundant

Anyway. She couldn't do anything, having failed to stab Obito's eye so she is transported back by Obito and she joins Kakashi and Sasuke who are waiting for Madara to return. She sees Kakashi's condition and starts to heal him. Naruto leaves his clone to hold Madara's shadow captive with his sage of six paths staff and returns to Sasuke's side, his better half of the 'main act' of the war which has already been established at this point.

So seeing Sakura healing Kakashi, he takes over from a resisting Sakura and heals him. The ONE thing that she could do and not feel redundant in the trio is taken away from her, lolol.

He not only heals him, he gives him a brand new eye, something that is beyond the reach of prevailing medical jutsu itself. How can Sakura even hope to compete with this? Lolol. Kishi, you sadistic so and so! You won't even let her catch a break.

Naruto can't explain and doesn't even understand how he did it and it took Sakura years of effort to learn medical jutsu and achieve a stage where she could even use her mitotic regeneration jutsu. Hahahahaha.

#Redundant

Okay, now then, Sasuke tells Naruto to keep his guard up while Sakura is acting like her usual pointlessly high handed self trying to condescend to Naruto who just made her presence utterly pointless, and Kakashi starts to reminisce about team seven dynamic. Kakashi, a man who has a very shallow understanding of his team members (he thinks Sakura's love has changed from what it was and that she is kind and gentle lol) and not at all about Sasuke, which he thankfully admits.

But what's funny to me is that Kishi was totally focusing on showing Sakura down, mercilessly. So Kakashi is seen reminiscing about their first day in team seven.

Sakura squealing like a typical immature fangirl crushing over an entirely disinterested and quite embarrassed boy, while having no other goal or objective. While Naruto announces his goal to surpass the current hokage, Sasuke divulges his ambition of restoring his clan's honour and killing Itachi, Sakura just blushes and squeals.

Kakashi thinks she is kind and gentle (because of course he has never seen Sakura treating Naruto, at times even a badly injured Naruto, like a punching bag and manipulating him and everyone else for her ill conceived plans), she has grown and her love for Sasuke has matured because she still cares about him even though he tried to kill her in kage arc. Oh sure, running after a boy and begging for his attention no matter what the circumstances or timing is totally what a mature woman would do, lol. Thing is, he has got blinders on when it comes to Sakura because he obviously very conveniently forgets that Sakura attacked Sasuke first, in fact, she went there with the sole intention of killing Sasuke, while not knowing the truth but suspecting something, after having orchestrated a plan that included fake confessing to Naruto (#rejected lol), drugging her team mates and armed with a puny poisoned kunai which she didn't have the presence of mind to deduce would be pointless against Sasuke who trained with Orochimaru for years, some medical ninja, lol.

Kakashi treats her with kid gloves and doesn't understand Sasuke's feelings or motivations given his own lack of perception and failure to understand the intricacies of emotions and relationships, he makes a lot of faux pas when it comes to his team seven members. Kishi knows that these are the questions any reader would ask since these elements were given such consistent visibility in the manga and such consistent characterisation to the players, he is not an idiot. So he uses indirect and subtle techniques and narrative elements, and forces the reader to ask questions and then provides the answers. How? By showing, not telling. Okay, a little telling as well.

Kishi has already established, through Kakashi's interactions with Obito, that Kakashi is definitely flawed as he writes him to admit that he tried his best but he made mistakes.

And that it can be contributed to his past, when he lost his father so cruelly along with his team mates. He also admits that giving false hope to Sakura when Sasuke is about to abandon Konoha was wrong. And what this proves is that Kakashi isn't infallible. His hypocrisy is very apparent when the core of his principle is to cherish his comrades and yet couldn't even attempt to understand Sasuke, given Sasuke's excruciatingly disturbing and scarring past. And even at the end, he expects Sasuke to behave and acts like it was all Sasuke's fault, not having understood him at all. The reason Sasuke gave up at the end was due to the revelatory experience he had with Naruto in chapter 698. Kakashi is emotionally stunted, perhaps which is why he is so good at being an ideal shinobi. A shinobi doesn't cry, doesn't emote, doesn't complain, doesn't break orders and protects his village with his life. Anyway, what becomes clear is that Kakashi's emotional perception is quite affected and far from accurate for sure.

Anyway, so Kakashi reminisces about what he perceives as the team seven dynamic after Naruto heals his eye and then reminds Sasuke of the first lesson he taught them when they were rookies. Sasuke remains meaningfully silent and only grunts. He obviously has a very low opinion of Kakashi, justifiably, as was established in kage arc and the succeeding chapters after this one emphasize it even more. Heh.

So what does 'Team Seven' decide on?

TEAMWORK.

Where was this notion of Team seven teamwork emphasized on the last time before this? Here.

Where Sakura is seen nursing her past insecurities and ramping her ego to join Naruto and Sasuke in the fight because she can't tolerate being protected by them anymore like a damsel in distress.

She thought she was a full fledged kunoichi after passing her genin exams, lol.

Anyway, so she doesn't want to gaze at the boys' back, meaning being shielded or protected by them, as they proceed to take on their opponent. And she manages to punch and make a dent while insulting her own sensei, like some badass that she definitely thinks she is, it becomes quite clear from her body language and expression.

Problem is, her feeling so good about herself (I have finally caught up to them) and acting like a badass is very disproportionate with her actual actions and contribution to the battle. Which is why it creates a dissonance in the reader's mind. As she keeps pulling the same shit over and over without changing or improving things, even after having certain realizations, she creates a negative impression of herself in the audience's mind. She doesn't evolve to be better in a manga where characters learn and grow as a rule which then contributes to the main plot, this is a coming of age story as well after all. Same with Hinata.

Btw, Hashirama saying her strength might be greater than Tsunade doesn't mean shit. Because he actually hasn't seen what his grand-daughter is capable of. Her strength is greater than Raikage, as Madara notices after fighting all the kages. Someone as strong as Naruto struggled to fight against Raikage when he tried to stop him from joining the war effort and so Bee had to intervene on his behalf. She couldn't even fight average cloud ninjas Omoi and Karui, lol. Like c'mon, they aren't even portrayed as some super strong, special ninjas, they are a hardly more than comedy fodder. But Kishi won't even let Sakura take some fodder level ninjas, lol, it's embarrassing. And what happens? Naruto comes to her rescue, as always. Heh. No way Sakura is stronger than Raikage, lol.

Why does Kishi do things like these? These obvious contradictions that he knows are very visible to anyone who pays attention? Especially with Sakura, where other characters like Kakashi, Shizune, Hashirama and Jiraiya remark positively about Sakura? To build expectations, make the reader anticipate some awesome action from Sakura, something that would actually justify these positive remarks in the narrative, building the premise of the action, escalating it, but then right at the moment of dramatic and narrative payback, 👎. He makes Sakura fail pathetically (he does the same thing with Hinata) by subverting the narrative development and tropes, by not satisfying the readers' expectations that he so painstakingly develops, by writing the most anti-climactic of actions at the end. No payback whatsoever. What does an actual payback look like? Cue Might Guy's opening all of the eight gates, when he smashes Madara's ribs in as he breaks his own bones in the process. Cue Tsunade grunting like a warrior goddess as she thrashes Madara's clone beyond recognition. Even Sakura when she punches the ground real hard and takes out little juubi soldiers.

He sadistically wastes all that effort that builds up the anticipation.

And what does doing that achieve? Simple. It makes the reader get really annoyed/dissatisfied with the character. And they feel compelled to berate or ridicule her character. And why won't they? They invested in the character and his/her actions in the narrative for a grand payback, watching multiple episodes or reading multiple chapters carefully, and when they don't get it, they would naturally be frustrated. Kishi consistently pulls this shit over and over again with Sakura and Hinata. And why would he go to such lengths to do shit like this? Well, it's not because he wants to make these ladies look credible or worthy. Heheh.

This is exactly why fans who don't see everything through rose coloured glasses, shipping lenses or have a good taste and a good understanding of characters and the human condition, and actually pay attention to what they are watching or reading, are so annoyed by these characters. Notice I am not saying disgusted or hateful (although some of y'all are) but mostly really annoyed and frustrated. Sakura and Hinata, more than anything else (although they are all those things too, like distasteful, boring and cringey lol), are simply annoying. Because of the reason I explained above.

Kishi is fucking relentless about it too. After this sense that he gives the reader of team seven dynamic, he pulls this shit here. No Sakura, no team. Just Naruto and Sasuke being the main act.

After which, we see Naruto and Sasuke fighting together or separately, but not with the team. But after they are given the sage of six paths power by Hagoromo, they fight together, well in sync with each other. Like they are meant to be. Sasuke bosses Naruto around, like usual, Naruto complains nostalgically but you can see he is totally enjoying it to the hilt. And both of them get shit done. Naruto stops Madara's shadow successfully as Sasuke skillfully slashes Madara's physical body in half. But before he can react further, Madara flies to Kakashi, steals his sharingan and just shoves it in his socket, because it really is that simple lol, enters Obito's space time dimension and attacks Sakura. Now Sakura has no idea about Madara's powers, not having fought him at all directly, and definitely not having fought with the juubi jinchuuriki Madara. So where on the one hand, you see Sasuke and Naruto thoughtfully device strategies to fight Madara, Sakura actually is totally clueless. But Kakashi reminds them of 'teamwork'.

So then Madara finally appears and then this happens.

Hahahahaha. Teamwork? What teamwork?Sakura doesn't even know what Madara's strengths or weaknesses are. And just as expected, he stabs her in the chest and stops her punch with his Limbo jutsu. Payback? What payback? Readers who sympathized with Sakura? Disappointed. Readers who wanted returns on their investment, disappointed. But people who understood what she was really like? Vindication. Lol.

She did the same thing here that Hinata does in Pein arc, when she charges at Pein without putting any thought into it. Hinata did it to attract Naruto's attention. And why did Sakura do it?

And what happened in both cases? Long build up resulting in them getting struck with a single hit and then being rescued by someone else. Naruto doesn't even acknowledge Hinata and Sakura droops because Sasuke ain't paying attention to her. So much for team work. Lol.

But what impression does it give to the reader?

1) Sakura's love for Sasuke didn't really evolve did it? It's the same when in part one, she climbs the tree by gathering chakra in her feet to impress Sasuke but Sasuke doesn't pay attention to her and she slumps, highly disappointed. Same as here.

2) She makes it look like she is creating an opening by using a diversionary tactic, but it's quite obvious she is really scared, but is still trying to show off to Naruto and Sasuke because she doesn't wanna stay behind, gazing at their backs again. So she attacks Madara blindly. Her desire to show off and strut around trumps her desire to actually defeat Madara. What a shinobi, lol. This is a freaking war, and she is fighting against a super strong villain who is bent on destroying their world as they know it, but she is more concerned with nursing her own shortcomings. Self centred, yes. And definitely not a badass. Just ass. Hehe.

After getting rescued by Naruto yet again, she wallows in sadness when Sasuke doesn't even glance at her but immediately calls for Naruto, who btw totally gets what he is indicating at without needing to say it out loud. Yay, team seven. Lol. So while Sasuke and Naruto get into form and fight Madara, what does Sakura do?

Precisely nothing. Just sitting there in awe of Sasuke and Naruto. Spellbound at Madara's jutsu and power, that she didn't know zilch about. Kakashi is pretty pointless here as well, but he wasn't the one who just proclaimed they remembered the teamwork lesson and jumped in a fight without any plan. At least, he had the presence of mind to stop Sakura from joining in the fight when Naruto and Sasuke charge at Madara and she again finds herself watching their backs, as he tells her to not do it unless she has a plan. And she does stop, lol. She doesn't have the power or strategy, just ego. All she wants is to impress Sasuke and show off to Naruto and others, who cares there's a war going on? Lol.

3) It becomes pretty clear who the real team is here. And Sakura is very pointedly missing from it. And it stays that way till the end, staying true to the real team seven dynamic. The Main Act.

So after hyping up the team work element, Kishi discards Sakura's inclusion with a ruthless but consistently written treatment and makes her...?

Redundant.

She couldn't heal Kakashi, she couldn't punch Madara. And she didn't mature, like Kakashi believed. Still pretty useless. Lol.

I am aware that her stans only read the most surface level. How else would they justify something they invest so much in? But unfortunately, it's a fact and not a matter of opinion that Kishi never intended to portray her positively and he certainly puts a hell lot of effort to do so in a clever manner. It's not a coincidence that she (along with Hinata) is such a hated character. It's because she has been portrayed that way. Storytelling and visual language are intuitive by nature. All I am doing here is decoding them. I am writing here what you already know. I am just explaining the how of it. Excuse the digressions lol.

#naruto #haruno sakura #anti sakura #anti ss #uzumaki naruto #uchiha sasuke #sasuke #sasunaru #narusasu #kakashi #anti hinata #naruto meta

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jeffgerstmann · 4 months

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You think AEW is in its death throes?

Most of their top people are either hurt or driven off, attendance is down, and Tony Khan is awful at both booking and business with no sign of ever improving at either. Not to mention he's a laughingstock whenever he goes on one of his Twitter tirades.

I mostly wonder if his ego or self-awareness will let him bow out and put other people in charge of the company. Would he be willing to just be the money guy and sit in the back smoking pot with the wrestlers or keep at it until his dad cuts him off or whatever and the whole thing shuts down?

It's kind of crazy that the "wrestling boom" is ending up with AEW, New Japan, and Stardom all imploding while WWE and TNA of all things have more momentum than ever.

This seems like a fake question, do people actually think this? Seems like an impossible point of view to actually have but I've been reading completely bizarre takes on Xbox stuff for a bit today so I can't really tell what's real and what isn't anymore. AEW seems fine. Collision, I think, has surpassed Dynamite as my favorite wrestling show of the week.

#wrestling #aew

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hitlikehammers · 2 months

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PART ONE: Fail-Pirate!Eddie/Castaway!Steve (Pirate AU)

🌊Under the Water (Our Hearts Will Dream Again)🌊

Chapter One: Man Overboard

You’ve gotta understand: the truth about Eddie?

He’s shit as a pirate. Like: an absolute disgrace. Of all the bad names associated with the trade, if trade is what it can be called?

He might just give it the worst.

So, y’know. That’s nice.

Like, he knows his knots, he is excellent with his hands thank you kindly, and he ties those motherfuckers like a pro, too! So what if he just sometimes confuses his hitch for his stopper, they’re both knots, they both do the job of knotting.

(Mostly. They only lost a boat the one time.)

(As in lost-lost, not the ones that were retrieved in time but landed Eddie on scut anyway.)

Which doesn’t touch on his absolutely abysmal record at the looting end of things. He doesn’t mind taking from the well-off, but he does mind adding it to the ship’s take every time they make land; he maybe lies about how bad he is at the stealing, the all-important plundering of the job, because he ends up finding the people outside the center of town at every port, the ones who line the edges and he drops what he takes with the ones who need it there, where they can’t escape on the water, can’t live in motion on the whims of the waves and find their needs in the flux of a life unanchored.

So he’s not the worst thief, for the right victim. But his spoils never make it back to the ship so: it probably makes him pretty shit at the job to hand, in the end, either way. Add a mark to the tally.

And then, gods: don’t get him started on the taking of…other things. Who aren’t things, they’re fucking people and they deserve respect not…what the other people sailing under his colors seem to believe them useful for instead.

Eddie’s been sick over the edge of the stern, hidden by shadow even if it’s unnecessary because fuck, the rest of the crew is full-occupied with their plundering, and that’s the reason he spews over in the sea, the waves always feeling a little extra angry for his pollution of their waters and that’s fitting. It’s fitting that he’s defiling something sacred with the weakness of his stomach—but not his soul, not his morals or his sense of humanity, fuck’s sake, so: at least there’s that.

He guesses.

Admittedly, though: Eddie doesn’t care so much that he’s a shitty fucking pirate. It’s not piracy that led him here, that charted this course for his life.

It’s the Ocean.

Which, sure, that may strike either cliche or obvious, too soft and poetic or else just downright pointless to underscore because he made a conscious choice to live at Sea, especially given the laundry list of reasons he’s absolutely abysmal at the life-on-the-water thing. But it is the truth. The best and biggest truth he’s ever known, rooted deep enough to fuel his steps and guide his path to here, right here, being exceptionally bad at luring fucking fish in a tiny little dinghy that the crew who hates him decided was perfectly fitting for the anticipated catch and okay, fine, if you were going to base expectations off of prior performance then maybe, and also, also maybe being here, ending up precisely right here—laughingstock of his profession, maligned by his crew, foisted upon barely-a-boat to catch barely-a-fish because y’know what, he’d have become a goddamn fisherman in the fucking first place if he was any good at that—but maybe right here, like this would look like failure to anyone else, to everyoneelse but, y’see—

Eddie Munson was a boy, once.

And he remembers, crystal clear, from the touch of his mother’s hand on his shoulder to the smooth slide of the menacing-but-magical looking shell, with its pointy end for tiny hands to grasp and hold to, and it’s big spiky cone of a head to hold to his own, up against his ear as his mother guided his elbow up and whispered just listen, you’ll hear the ocean tell you its secrets—and he loved the ocean, loved the feeling of the soft foam of the tide on the hidden sands far from the harbor, loved the little creatures that scuttled in and out of the water when the waves crept up, loved the hint of a big fin, maybe real or maybe just imagined something that big, that dangerous, that beautiful breaching the horizon: Eddie wanted to know all the ocean’s secrets.

And when he’d held the shell of his ear, he’d heard them: whispered close and roared fierce alike and he’d felt weightless, giddy; just just floating.

Magic, like the shell in his hands.

And it didn’t matter when his father found him years later, stumbling drunk from the tavern where he spent money they couldn’t afford, finding Eddie with the conch pressed tight to his ear, almost too small now as he’d grown but still desperate for the secrets, the sound of the waves that seemed to reach out and know when they needed to break louder, faster to drown our the shouting, to wash over the way his father had hauled him up and thrown the shell to break a window and sneered your idiot secrets, boy, there’s no ocean in that fucking shell, s’the echo of your own coward heart that you hide in, there, stupid fucking—

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, not because Eddie got knocked to the floor much like his shell, after; not because it made a kind of sense, because if the secrets of the ocean were the mirror of his heartbeat then of course they were faster and louder when his father came home drunk, sometimes he chest got sore over how his heart raced on those nights; and not because when he finally gets his feet back under him, when his father’s wood-sawing snores signal the coast is clear and he can creep out and search in the dark for his shell and find it, cracked from the spin of the handle-like bit so he just has to cradle the wide bell careful in his palm and ignore the slice of the spires into his skin, ignore it for the sake of finding, finding—

The waves. The secrets. His own heartbeat like the thunder in a storm and it doesn’t matter because if that sound is his own heart, then, then it’s like the ocean’s secrets are in his own chest, a little.

Like if the ocean had a heartbeat, there’s something of it pressed inside his own.

And for all that his father tried to whip that wonder away from him, straight out of his hands? That reality is somehow more magical. And Eddie’s been drawn to the pulsebeat of the sea—devoted, even, almost like a lovesick longing—ever since, so.

Failing at pirating, including the fishing part? Isn’t a failure.

Because he’s on the Sea. And that’s all he’s ever really wanted.

It’d help his pride if he got like, one fucking fish, though. Even a tiny one. Though they’d probably mock him worse for a minnow than for nothing so: small mercies, maybe, that he’s pulling up untouched bait.

Still he sighs, and takes a moment, rakes his gaze over the setting sun on the water—they’re far enough out now that there’s no sight of land, just the ripples nearby that smooth into pure water stretching aft and aft further out and Eddie doesn’t have a shell but if he presses his hand to his chest and over his ear at once it’s almost, almost—

He both hears and feels his pulse jump, like the secret is a warning, and he believesthat’s it’s both because it’s the only explanation for the way he turns, at that precise moment that the water moves uncannily agitated, and lifts up something weighty, a heavy shadow, and—

“Man overboard!” Eddie’s voice cracks as his hands reach for the oars and he rows before he thinks because the Ocean told him to look—and maybe it’s childish, and foolhardy, and a silly winsome fantasy he should have left behind ashore long again but…

He can’t tell if the man—because it’s a man, indeed, he can tell now that the water has calmed, and how else to explain its sudden surge to command Eddie’s attention, to call him in close and then ease the way to the waterlogged body—but Eddie can’t tell if the body moves at all save at the water’s own whim, can’t see yet if the flesh is too pale or worse, too blue, and—

“Man overboard!” he cries out with feeling, now; he’s far from the ship but not so much that no one will hear screaming if not yet discern the words and he just needs them to know, needs them to be ready, especially if it’s somehow one of their own and he just repeats it, too of his lungs, shrieks it to the sky as he reaches the man’s form, facedown in the water, and that alone seizes in Eddie’s chest—why tell him a secret if it’s only a heartbreaking one, yet he cannot, will not be picky, he will never reject the confidences of the Ocean no matter how it chooses to disclose its mysteries, even its tragedies; he curses his crewmates for the pitiful size of his little vessel, a joke upon his lacking hauls but now he has need for size and sturdiness as he reaches for the body—broad and leant further mass by the water itself and far more precious than a hundred fish for feeding and for trading, this is a life and he strains to balance the boat and heave the man aboard so not to capsize them both and leave the circumstances worse for his help—

“Man,” he manages to screech before he tumbles back, but with the man in his arms to drag along into the dinghy and he knocks his own breath a little for the fall but the man’s here, and they’re upright, and Eddie scrambles on his knees toward his new charge and he—

Should not have wasted time trying to steady his lungs, really, because this man, on his boat, dragged from the waters, he, he is—

He’s absolutely breathtaking.

Eddie gapes at him, at the play of the sunset on his soaked hair, his skin—pale, but not blue, not dead yet—he is stunning even like this, what unimaginable beauty must be possess when he’s not—

Oh hells, yes, right; he—

Eddie probably needs to fucking check if the breathtaking man is breathing, before he contributes to losing something at sea far more precious than an improperly-knotted boat.

>>>CHAPTER TWO

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme

divider credits here & here & here

🌊ao3 link here

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 1 year

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hey frank!! could i get some advice?

i was really jazzed to see that youd opened an advice column. i know you probably get a lot of questions already but i just wanted to throw mine in in case you had any spare time.

ive had this problem for a while now. when i was little, i made my sister sign a contract saying that she would turn into a dog. its been years and years, and not only has she stopped turning into a dog, but now the social dynamics have completely shifted such that im the laughingstock of her and her friends every time we hang out!! which is like fine i guess but i feel like i should do something about it. i never had much dignity in the first place, nor did i see the value in maintaining it, but you can only be dragged across the floor so many times before you start to question how the hell you got here, you know??

i find myself wondering if letting people mess with me like that is a sign of low self esteem or if it's just my natural good humor and easygoing demeanor. i don't actually mind being the butt monkey most of the time, i just sometimes wonder what lead me to end up in this position.

should i try to pull a power move on them or something? (if so, what should i do?) and how can i learn to value myself more while still engaging in self deprecating humor?

thank you so much for reading!!

-fated to be farce fodder friend

Frank's reply:

I have long thought that I am "an easy target" -- I mean, I feel like my sense of humor isn't especially good, but even when I try to use my actual comic sensibilities to write comedy I find it falling flat and boring. Anyway, I do think I'm an easy target for jokes, and I do think that affects my self-esteem -- in some ways I really feel like a clownish figure, and being unable to "pass" as normal makes me feel like I have nothing to offer the world except being a funny and loveable screw-up.

To combat this, I guess I do try to combine a strong sense of humor with a strong will. I know myself well enough to know that if I try to become a "serious" man, it'll just be an act, and I'll end up looking "too cool" and completely inhuman anyway. But I can go out and assert myself by, say, getting a job, getting involved in social issues I care about, making a name for myself as a scholar (which I'm half-heartedly doing), etc. It's hard to know whether I should try to make myself as powerful as possible to counteract the "clown" aspects of my personality, or work to reduce those aspects.

This is a whole separate issue.

But I'm getting far from the central topic. I think there is no easy answer, but I would caution against trying any power move -- if I try to power-move people who torment me, I could wind up making myself even more of an outcast, and then there would be no way out. So I guess I would advise "learn to value yourself more?" but be careful with that, because a lot of that comes from your friends. I have met lots of people who don't like me because I'm not very cool, and if you are too cool, it'll come off as false and strange -- so you have to walk a careful line.

Luckily I have mostly found people who value my "oddity." To quote a John Waters line, "I want people to like me, but not for the wrong reasons." It's a fine balance.

-- Frank

#fated to be farce fodder friend #fallow-grove

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memento-morri-writes · 2 years

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Some Friendly Advice

Kris beats the shit out of a practice dummy, and gets some advice from a Real Adult. Rather angsty.

ATQH Content Masterpost | Referenced Scene

Wordcount: 1,280

Trigger Warnings: Swords (?)

Taglist: @enchanted-lightning-aes @ink-fireplace-coffee @inkingfireplace @rose-bookblood @italiangothicwriteblr

Kris woke slowly, becoming aware of the sunlight streaming in through the window. His head throbbed, but he only vaguely remembered why. Carefully, he sat up, looking at the clock. It was after noon. He swore quietly. Getting to his feet, Kris looked around the room. His eyes landed on a dark stain running down the wall and the events of the previous night came rushing back. Closing his eyes, he could see Fallon in front of him, eyes glistening with tears as she scolded him. He’d done it now. If Fallon wasn’t going to send him home before, she certainly was now. After all, it wouldn’t do for the Queen to marry the laughingstock of Oryn. He swore again. His stomach growled, reminding him that it had been hours since his last meal. If he was going home, he might as well get one more meal beforehand. After changing out of his wine-stained clothes, Kristopher opened the door to his room and was met with the back of a guardsman. The guard turned around, seemingly surprised to see the Prince upright. Probably expected to have to drag me out of bed later, Kris thought. “Is there a reason you’re blocking my way?” He asked, voice flat.

“Your Highness!” The guard exclaimed. “I am under orders not to let you out until you are presentable.” Of course, Kristopher thought. No one wants to be embarrassed by one of their guests. Better to keep them out of sight. Straightening his spine slightly, he said aloud. “Well, I’m not naked, am I?” “N-no.” The guard stepped aside, allowing the Prince to pass. As he walked down the hall, Kristopher realized that this whole routine felt oddly familiar, and not in a pleasant way. Upon reaching the dining hall, he was relieved to find it empty. He ate quickly, eager to be gone before someone came along. After eating, he meandered around the Palace. He needed to think, but wandering aimlessly wasn’t helping. He needed a distraction, but one that would clear his mind rather than impair it. After a moment’s thought, he set off towards the garrison. The training yard in front of the building was empty of observers, much to Kristopher’s relief. He had never thought of how he would explain his presence if someone asked. However, there was one issue. Suitors had not been allowed to bring any weapons to the Palace. He glanced around, hoping that some foolish guardsman had left his sword behind. He was lucky. After making a lap around the training yard, he located an old sword left in the grass. Though it was showing its age, it was of good quality and would serve its purpose. Hefting the sword in his hand, he faced the training dummy in the corner of the yard. Its body consisted of a burlap sack, likely filled with sand, with two protruding sticks serving as arms. He lifted the sword and swung, slicing a mark across the dummy’s chest. Kristopher hacked at the dummy over and over again, elegant strikes turning into a chaotic flurry of blows. Not exactly top-tier fencing, but it felt good. It had been months since he’d last held a sword, and years since he had been so chaotic with his strikes. Lately he’d found other ways to ease his frustrations. And those other ways were exactly what had gotten him into trouble now. With every blow he pictured Fallon’s expression the night before, heard her words in his head. As he stuck, the sand began to emerge from various cuts in the sack that held the dummy together. Soon its body had been mostly eviscerated. With one final swing he decapitated it. He stood there, breathing heavily, sword still held firmly in his grip. “It appears we are due for some new training equipment.” Kristopher whirled around to find Captain Blackthorne standing at the gate of the training yard. His chest tightened. Technically the suitors weren’t allowed to have weapons on them at any time. “My apologies,” he said hurriedly. “I was merely…” he trailed off. How was he supposed to explain all this? The Captain merely laughed. “No need to apologize. If I got angry every time someone beat up one of those things out of frustration, I’d be angry every other day. And that’s too much effort.” Kristopher’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I’ll get out of your way now,” he said, setting the sword aside and heading for the gate. “Actually, I was looking for you in particular.” Kristopher froze, heart sinking. Of course. He was going home. His thoughts must have been plain on his face, because Captain Blackthorne continued. “You’re not in any trouble. I wanted to offer some,” He paused. “Words of advice.” “Advice?” Kristopher asked, trying to steady the tremble in his voice. He wasn’t sure what the older man was up to, but there had to be a better reason for tracking Kris down beyond offering advice. Blackthorne nodded. “Don’t take your anger out on yourself. Or anyone else for that matter. It’s not fair to you or her. And knowing Her Majesty, she’s likely taking it out on herself already.” Kristopher blinked in surprise. Clearly word had spread of the previous night’s events. “It’s not her fault,” he said suddenly. The words bubbled to the surface, tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. “I acted like an ass. She would be well within her right to send me home, and I wouldn’t stop her.” He gulped. “But I don’t want to leave.” It was true. He couldn’t go back to Oryn after this. And more than that, he didn’t want to leave Fallon. He blinked at the realization. Captain Blackthorne nodded. “I’m well aware of that, though I’m not certain Her Majesty is so eager to send you packing.” “Why wouldn’t she? I wasn’t very kind,” Kristopher said bitterly. “That’s the other piece of advice,” The Captain said, not unkindly. “If you regret hurting someone, tell them so.” “I’m not sure she’ll want to listen,” Kristopher said, looking down at his feet. “I think she will.” Kris looked up quickly, and Blackthorne met his gaze with a smile. “Good luck, Kristopher.” He walked to the gate but paused, looking back. “And by the way. You are welcome to come and spar with my men whenever you wish. I’m sure one of two of them would be eager for a chance against the best swordsman in Oryn.” Kristopher’s eyes narrowed, certain the Captain was mocking him. But the man merely smiled warmly before turning and walking away. Perhaps he was genuine after all. Kris stood there for a moment longer, starting after the Captain. Once he was certain the man was gone, he walked to the gate and looked around the corner. The Captain was nowhere in sight. Slowly, he swung the gate open and set off towards the Palace, in desperate need for a bath. As he passed Fallon’s rooms, Kris wondered for a moment what she was up to. Whatever it is, she certainly smells better, he thought. Once inside his rooms, he stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes and drew a bath, steam filling the room. Once the water was warm enough, he stepped in, sinking gladly into the steaming water. As the sweat and grime of the past 18 hours washed away, Kris pondered Blackthorne’s words. Apologize — it seemed simple enough. But how the hell were you supposed to phrase it? How did you say ‘I’m sorry for getting drunk, embarrassing you and overall being an ass’? How did you say that to someone like Fallon?

#writeblr #my writing #wip: atqh #atqh: scenes #*#atqh: edited version #atqh: Kris #atqh: Captain Blackthorne #poor Kris. He really thinks Fallon is just going to send him home.#and he has NO IDEA how to react to a Real Adult talking to him #especially not a Read Adult who's not screaming at him.#:'(

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feelmir · 3 months

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On this occasion of the tenth anniversary of Ukraine's neo nazi coup, the West, its mainstream media and its corrupt politicans are strangely silent about their orchestrated coup in Ukraine 10 years ago, bringing to the then brotherly people of Ukraine and Russia, death, destruction and huge sufferings, as did in their previous deadly and bloody wars of aggression , over the past two decades, in Yugoslavia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, Syria and today the massacre of thousands of Palestinians mostly children, women and elderly committed by their proxy state in Palestine. in the slavish western mainstream media, on the eve of the second anniversary of Russian special military operation, there is no more political buster nor thundering statements predicting the imminent defeat of Russia crumbling under heavenly sanctions, the 19000 sanctions imposed by the West following the Russian military operation. The foolish French minister of economy, Bruno Le Maire, becoming laughingstock by French public after publishing pornographic autobiographic essay intitled “the American night”, stated that Russia would be brought to its kneel within months, but the opposite has happened as current Russia economy is stronger than ever. Two years after Russian military operation in Ukraine, the corrupt political establishment is realizing that its proxy war has failed and because of this failed proxy war, it is rather the western economy not the Russian economy which has been brought to its kneel after losing the Russian cheap energy, a structural factor in the rise and development of European economy.

#Euromaidan

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suraibru · 10 months

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Emma & Aubrey- Girls of the Future. Part1

Emma looked herself in the mirror, she was in her favorite dress, a black overall dress with a flowy white blowse beneath. She brushed out her bangs and set them with citrus oil. It was a big day and she wanted to look her best. Emma and her sister had been invited to a technology convention in the city. Her Father was well known in the medical and tech business and had taught them everything he could. A blur of orange flashed across the mirror along with a mostly undiscernible flurry of words. "Emma, have you seen my ribbons? Mama wants to do my hair and I don't wanna to the tight braid buns thing she likes doing, I wanna to it myself because shell do it way too tight." Aubrey ran her hand through her un-kept messy red bangs. They looked more like its own layer of hair. no matter how Aubrey would do it, it would look messy regardless.

Emma pointed to the drawer next to her where the two kept their selfcare items. "Are you wearing that? Mama will make you change." Emma said in a soft voice. "Dad won't care." Aubrey said as she furiously brushed out her hair. "He's the one driving, by the way you look so cute today! I hope the crowd likes us. I heard people some Russian politicians with be there. I can't wait to see those commie faces when they see that two schoolgirls beat them to color TV." Aubrey let out a maniacal laugh. Emma giggled. "Just don't say that, dad would laugh but I don't think the people would. and thanks, I feel like I look good today so I'm glad you said that. I was kind of worried if I should wear stockings or not." Emma started tying up her hair in a ponytail and tied the bow.

"Girls, are you almost ready? We need to go soon it's an hour drive to the convention- Aubrey please change your clothes. shorts aren't really appropriate in the city for girls." Aubrey groaned and made her way to her room to get a dress. As she walked past her dad he smiled softly. "I know dresses are uncomfortable but there are creeps, it's still a big day and a good opportunity for other girls, you guys are opening up a spot for women in the industry." Emma giggled and their dad's attention switched over to her. "Awe, you look so pretty." Her dad stood behind her and ran his hand across her back smoothing out wrinkles. "I'm so lucky to be you two's father. I have two amazing, inelegant young girls. you and your sister will change the future. " Emma turned to face her dad for a hug. "I'm worried." Her dad looked down at her. "what's bothering you sweetheart?" Emma buried her face into her father suit. "What if they laugh." Her dad chuckled. "I'll be there right next to you, they respect me. if they belittle my darlings at all they'd be made an example of." Emma didn't understand the example part, but she'd been around long enough to guess they'd be fired.

Aubrey walked back into the room in a blue sundress, the only one she had. her socks were at different heights and her shoes were scuffed. " Is this better. am I covered enough." Aubrey's face was a grimace, dresses were her least favorite thing in the world and she hated she was expected to wear one. "You look like an angel." he said, pulling her into a hug.

The ride to the city was boring, the radio played the newest top song and the host's voice bleed out to nothingness tor most of the hour trip. Emma held her own had to calm her growing anxiety. her head would replay scenarios of her tripping on words and the crowd laughing. She'd look over to her dad and he wasn't there. Aubrey would stand up for her and say something rash, and their family would be a laughingstock of the US. Emma looked over to her sister, her hair was coming undone, and she was passed out against the window. she smiles, no matter what happened she would still have her, Aubrey was her best friend, her only friend. but she made up for it by having the energy of ten fiends.

Suddenly Aubrey jerked awake. "Are we here?" Their dad chuckled. "Almost, Emma will you redo her hair?" Emma shifted closer to Aubrey and combed out the loose strands. Aubrey cringed she hated people touching her in anyway, hair or otherwise. "Be careful okay." Aubrey said kind of begrudgingly. "I would never hurt your hair, it's so beautiful." Emma hummed their song. Aubrey rested her head on her hand and looked out the window. As they pulled into the parking lot a large building their dad straightened out his suit and combed back his blonde hair. He looked in the rearview mirror at his girls. "Are you loves ready?"

The inside was crawling with men in fancy suits and women in expensive dresses. TVs, radios and new telephones were displayed across tables where people struggled to get attention. "Come on loves the interesting things are near the stage." They walked through the crowd, Emma held Aubrey's hand, it was defiantly sweaty and would make Aubrey uncomfortable, but she didn't seem to notice, she was probably nervous too. "Hey, James it's been a while." Their dad cringed at the man's high voice and faked a smile, he was good at feigning excitement. "Oh hey, Jeremy, was it? the new guy?" The man, Jeremy's eyes glanced over to Emma and Aubrey. his eyes bore holes into their heads. He made the uneasy, he wasn't trustworthy. Emma squeezed Aubrey's hand and she squeezed back. they felt the same way, he was the afore mentioned creep.

"These lovely ladies are my daughters Emma and Aubrey. they're the ones presenting today." Their dad put his hand on their shoulders and squeezed them. He must've hated him because it felt as though he was protecting them. "I'm sure it'll be great." The man said with a sour tone. Emma looked up to her dad. his eyes looked menacing, and his grin sent ice through her veins. "It will certainly be, they did something never seen before, my girls will change the industry forever." His words dripped with venom. Emma smiled; dad would do anything for them, even if it meant terrorizing interns.

The stage was set, and the lights dimmed. someone on stage was introducing some new medical Tech, advanced x-rays. The girls were in the back getting their words together, they agreed that Aubrey would do the talking and Emma would be next to her working the TV set and the color capable live camera. "Darlings, I'll be out there introducing you guys, so sand by. If something happens talk to Mrs. Collins here, she's, my assistant. she knows all about you guys." He lowered his voice. "If you need feminine items, she has them ready so don't-" "dad!" Their dad got flushed and chuckled. "Sorry, just wanted to make sure you'd know." He pulled Emma and Aubrey into a bear hug. "I'm so proud of you girls!" Over the speakers called out His name. and he ran his hand through his hair and straightened his suit. "I'll meet you girls back hear aster your set, knock 'em dead Aubrey, and Emma" Emma met his eyes, he had a warm smile. "You look beautiful, you'll do great, even if you say nothing. Aubrey needs you out there. I'll be off stage, if you need me. I'll be right here cheering you on."

Emma and Aubrey listened to their father talk through the speaker. "Well, most of you know me but for though who don't I'm James Walker. but today isn't about me, I organized this convention to show you something never seen before, and I think you'll be surprised by who created this new advancement. -" Aubrey looked over to Emma, her legs were bouncing on her toes. Aubrey reached over and held her hand. "We got this Em, Well do great." Aubrey hoped her own words were true. if it did, they would send their family back into the limelight. Their dads voice chimed back in. "So, without farther introduction, my little geniuses, Emma and Aubrey Walker." Aubrey helped Emma up. "You ready?" Emma nodded and they stepped onto the stage still holding hands. Aubrey's hand was sweaty, but so was Emma's. "Hello to you all, I hope you've had a good day." Aubrey's voice was a little shaky but smoothed out as she got comfortable.

#the walker inheritance #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writerscommunity

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amostimprobabledream · 2 years

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I can't write a comment in tumblr for some reason but I wanted to say that I loved your post about Stella and his brother and "it's all about Stolas". I'm a big stella fan and I'm so tired of her being so 2D dimensional and so unappreciated :/... The bias is real and I bet there will be so many fan arts of him to the point of being more than Stella.... I am so done. I love her so much but her character is just "Stolas' wife" ergh... Why waste her beautiful character design??

Helluva Boss fr has a problem with pushing its female characters to the wayside so the men get all the attention and character development. You could outright remove Loona from the show and it would barely change and Millie's entire character is basically "Moxxie's wife". I love Millie but she barely ever gets to do anything that doesn't revolve around protecting Moxxie - even the episode where we meet Millie's family focuses more on Moxxie, Striker and Blitzo than Millie. I know Vivzie came up with Blitzo and Moxxie first and they were originally meant to be in Hazbin Hotel, so it makes sense they get the initial focus, but it's not a good enough reason to give Millie no identity outside of being Moxxie's wife or Loona just being Blitzo's adopted daughter.

And you also have Octavia, Stella and Verosika, who are also all solely identified with their relationship with a man. Octavia doesn't seem close to Stella at all and admits to Stolas her worst fear is her dad abandoning her for Blitzo, yet she's conveniently written out of "Ozzie's" because it's Stella's turn with Octavia, even though we never see mother and daughter interacting or know if Octavia realises that Stolas is the reason Stella has been so angry. Stella is painted as nothing but Stolas' vengeful wife and she's consistently depicted negatively even though...you know, Stolas has been cheating on her for whoever knows how long, but everybody goes out of their way to pile sympathy onto Stolas while demonising Stella, even before Stella is revealed to have hired Striker. (And tbh I still can see why she'd do that since Stolas is still seeing Blitzo even after she find out and the family seem to now be something of a laughingstock in Hell because Stolas cheated on Stella with an imp. Yes, it's classist and extreme, but it's not like Stella is the only person in Hell who considers imps to be a lower class - even Stolas seems to partly think that since he hid his face when Asmodeus recognised him at the restaurant and Blitzo was clearly hurt by that. Even Striker points out this discrepancy and comments that Stolas treats Blitzo like a plaything and Stolas word-for-word calls Blitzo that in "Truthseekers".) And Verosika is also defined by being Blitzo's bitter ex girlfriend and Blitzo spends the entirety of her debut calling her a "slut", "whore," etc, even though the show make it clear he was a shitty boyfriend and hurt Verosika quite badly when they were together. It seems like Blitzo is the one who's bitter that Verosika is a famous pop star now, but she's still mostly known as "Blitzo's ex." I'm hoping Season 2 does more to rectify these issues and I feel like the female characters all do have potential (except for Loona, I really don't like her), but they are clearly of secondary importance compared to Blitzo, Moxxie or Stolas, which is pretty unfortunate.

#Helluva Boss #Rant I guess?#Blitzo #Moxxie #Millie #Stolas #Stella #Striker #Verosika Mayday #Blogging #Idk I still enjoy Helluva Boss but the girls deserve better writing #It's basically the Blitzo and Moxxie show

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 9 months

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heya, i have to wake up in three hours but! here's another lil human au snippet! ft. lightly implied Laughingstock! disclaimer i am so so tired so don't come at me for typos or strangely worded sentences or missing info <3

Before heading home, Eddie swings by a charming little store he’s been to once or twice before. He usually goes to the chain store by his house, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the hustle and bustle and the endless aisles. This little store is quiet, nice, and strangely has everything anyone could need.

The lot is mostly empty at this hour, so Eddie claims a spot right at the front. As with the other times, the windows are littered with displays and stickers - half off on this, sale on that. Eddie enters Howdy’s Place with the chime of the door’s shopkeeper’s bell. He’ll get what he needs and get out, quick and easy and peacefu-

Boisterous laughter slams into Eddie like a hammer, so sudden that he jumps in place. An employee stocking cans nearby glances weirdly at him. Eddie clears his throat and hurries into the nearest aisle as the laughter tapers off. The silence barely lasts a second before loud chatter starts up. It’s too fast and muffled for Eddie to understand, but he can pick out two distinct voices - one deep, one less so but still decidedly masculine.

Eddie tries to tune it out as he gathers what he needs. Toothpaste, some paper towels, shampoo. For the hell of it, he nabs a box of classic bran muffins from the spacious food section. He lingers for a moment, enjoying how far-away the conversation seems at the other corner of the store. Unfortunately, theft is illegal, so Eddie is forced to move towards the noise.

A strange thing about the store - it’s a combination general store, antique shop, and diner, complete with a miniature gift shop separating the two. One long checkout counter stretches from the open store area, behind the gift shop, and into the diner, where the conversation is coming from. An interesting setup, but an understandable one. It allows anyone behind the counter to move fluidly between customers and sections.

As Eddie approaches, the conversation becomes slightly clearer.

“-said, no wonder you didn’t get her number!” the deeper voice barks, and the two dissolve into that almost-too-loud laughter again.

As it tapers off, the other voice says, “Sounds like a real charmer! But really, you oughta be careful, Barn. One of these days someone’s gonna throw a right hook at ya.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. A transatlantic accent? He hasn’t heard that anywhere outside of real old movies and a queen he once knew. It sounds natural too, like the man was born to sound like he belongs on a 1920s radio show. It nudges something in the back of Eddie’s mind. He’s started to get really sick of that nudge.

“Oh, this guy did.”

“No kidding? I don’t see a shiner.”

“Well, yeah. I went left.”

Both of them laugh again, and Eddie feels a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t funny enough to garner an actual laugh in his opinion, but it wasn’t unfunny.

Eddie steps up to the counter and quietly puts his acquired items on it, not wanting to interrupt. He chances a glance to the side - walking space in front of the counter’s length lets him see right down into the diner.

A large man with dyed-blue hair and an interesting fashion sense is at the bar, talking to an employee leaning against the other side. The employee doesn’t really catch Eddie’s gaze, but the other man… Eddie swears he’s seen him before. He studies him from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be rude but unable to mind his business.

“Our bouncer didn’t even get a chance at the action - the idiot knocked himself out tryin’ a second swing!” The customer says. His deep voice, wavering with humor, only adds to the sense of familiarity. Metal glints in his right ear. Eddie knows this man from somewhere.

The employee shakes his head, tutting. His busy hands polish a vintage pitcher. “I swear, you get all the crazies.”

“Makes for a good story, though.” The customer takes a sip from his tall milkshake and scoffs. “Though if it wasn’t all well-ending, amusing bull, I doubt I’d be so tolerant.”

Minutes drag by as the two keep talking. Eddie goes from patiently waiting to awkwardly trying to get the employees attention. If only there was someone else behind the counter, but the only other staff member is elsewhere, likely still stocking shelves.

The two men are too absorbed in their little world, even though both are facing Eddie’s way. The customer has both elbows on the counter, one of them bent to prop up his chin. The employee has his hip leaned against the edge as they chat. They’re obviously very familiar with each other, and clearly deeply enjoy each other's company.

Still - and Eddie is sorry to say, but it’s bad customer service. He’s not in a rush, but he’d still like to be on his way home. He could be fishing out the complex keys right now. He checks his phone - he’s been here for nearly fifteen minutes. Picking out the items took less than five.

Eddie sighs, staring at the various cigarette packs displayed behind the counter. He’s never seen the appeal in smoking, but as the laughter starts up again, he almost wishes he did. He’s going to treat himself to a very long shower once he gets home.

The store’s other employee walks behind the counter, carrying a box. Eddie lights up. Finally - she pointedly clears her throat and heads into the back.

The constant conversation stalls for the barest moment, and he looks over. The customer grins at him for a second - lord he’s handsome - before turning that grin towards his friend.

“You’re losin’ your touch, Howds,” he teases, bringing his shake straw to his lips.

“I resent that statement. You’re just distracting.”

“Lil’ me? Distracting? C’mon, you can just tell me I’m pretty to my face. I’ll take it like a champ, I swear!”

“Ha, good try.” The employee sets the pitcher down and starts to mosey in Eddie’s direction. “Your ego is big enough for the both of us as is. One more compliment and your head’ll pop like a balloon.”

“Well, given that most balloons don’t really pop, they just kinda deflate slowly-”

“Sorry for the wait!” the employee says loudly in a glaringly obvious customer service tone. He stops in front of Eddie with a cardboard smile. At the other end of the counter, the familiar man snickers and hides his grin behind his drink. “I trust you found everything you did - and didn’t! - need.”

Eddie just stares up at him for a moment. At six-one, Eddie hasn’t felt small in a very long time. He usually stands at least a full inch above other people. This employee - Howdy, his name tag states - has several more on him.

“Uh, y-yes, I uh, I did,” Eddie stammers, glancing at his items.

“Wonderful! And again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. My friend makes a game out of keeping me from my job.” Howdy shoots his ‘friend’ a glare with enough heat in it to make an ice cube sweat.

“No worries.”

Howdy scans the items at an almost frightening speed. Beep, into a paper bag. Beep, in. Beep, beep - “Oh, no.”

“What?” Eddie says, dread plucking at his ribs as Howdy holds the bran muffins and shakes his head. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“Indeed there is! You’re making a mistake with these. They’re absolutely horrible, I tell ya - and bad for you, too!” Howdy tuts and puts the box to the side. “No, no, you don’t want those.”

“I… don’t?”

“Not if you knew better! Lucky for you, I’m here to set you straight. What you need is-” he snaps his fingers, “Barnaby, be a pal and-”

“Already on it,” ‘Barnaby’ says, appearing next to Eddie.

If Eddie weren’t already paralyzed, he’d jump right out of his skin from how Barnaby towers over him. He has to be a scant inch or so shorter than Howdy, but he still makes Eddie feel tiny. Unfortunately, Barnaby is even more handsome up close.

“Here ya go.” Barnaby hands a plastic container to Howdy and taps it, smiling lazily down at Eddie. “I’d take his advice on this one. Those bran-named muffins may sound fancy, but they’re pretty crumby! You want muffins of quality. Real breadwinners!

Eddie can’t help a soft laugh. “Breadwinners, heh, that’s a good one.”

“Are you selling these or am I?” Howdy says, raising a bushy eyebrow.

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what you asked! I’m bein’ a pal.”

“And I - I’m sorry," Eddie interjects, "but you’re awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Eh, I’ve been around, but uh… you ever been to [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE]?”

Howdy clears his throat. “I’m trying to make a sale here, Barn. You can flirt on your own dime when you’re not costing me mine.”

“Didja know your nose gets redder when you’re jealous?”

Howdy rolls his eyes and shoves Barnaby in the diner’s direction. Barnaby goes with a hearty snicker. Despite the joke, Eddie thinks it has some merit as Howdy scans the final item and rings him up, considerably frostier than before.

Belatedly, Eddie realizes that he didn’t actually agree to the different muffins. Too late now. “Say, what kind of muffins are those?”

“Poppyseed-lemon.”

Eddie relaxes - that is a lot better than boring bran. “Y’know, my mother loved poppyseed-lemon muffins.”

“Did she now,” Howdy drawls.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! If baking was so much as mentioned, she’d jump right on houndin’ us to whip some up for her, or send us to go buy some. We’d never even get a taste! They’d be gone the moment they hit the air, I tell ya.” Eddie chuckles. “Took me a while to understand what all the fuss is about, but man was she right. They are good!”

“Uh-huh. Well, we have a fresh batch delivered every morning. They’re not the same type every time, mind you, but I can promise that they’re all of the highest quality.”

“Breadwinners, right?” Eddie jokes. Howdy doesn’t blink, but Barnaby snorts. He’ll take it. “I might have to come by more often, if that’s the case! Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Mhm, have a good day.” Howdy hands him the bag and strides away without a glance. The dismissal is clear as day. “Say, Barn, did you hear about the racket one of those cult crackpots stirred up at our dear friend’s tearoom?”

Eddie doesn’t catch the tail-end of the sentence as he hurries away, but he frowns. Cult? What cult? There’s a cult? He certainly didn’t hear of one before moving here, and none of his background checks had turned up anything of the sort. He hopes it was just a figure of speech.

The door chimes again as Eddie leaves. It isn’t until he’s in his car that the embarrassment of that whole exchange catches up with him. If he had a nickel for every time he’d made a fool of himself in front of a gorgeous, strangely familiar man, he’d have three nickels. At the rate he’s going, he’ll either be rich, or he’ll have to move.

Eddie subtly tries to peek around the store’s window displays from the safety of his car. He catches a scant glimpse of blue hair - come to think of it, it’s a similar shade to Wally’s. But where Wally’s had, to Eddie’s memory, been uniformly dyed right down to his eyebrows, Barnaby’s rich brown roots were obvious. His beard and eyebrows weren’t dyed, either.

As Eddie relaxes back into his seat, he re-reads at the store’s name. The color drains from his face and he barely restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the steering wheel.

Oh, of course. Of course he made a fool of himself in front of the owner. Eddie can never come back here again. And it was such a nice store…

#wait wym this is almost 2k words what the Fuck!#ok! the writing gods blessed me tonight i guess!#anyway slight context -#in my mind there's a whole Plot and stuff for this au #where it starts off with eddie running into The Group™️ and meeting them mostly separately #before they all meet up and go 'hey yeah you guys ran into eddie from high school too? cool. he's ours now'#and forcibly drag eddie into their little Circle #wh modern human au #snippets from the bog #also sorry about the [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE] lmfao i cant come up with one atm #i want it to be wh-related and Clever #but i am not very clever on a good day and this has been a bad one! and again! im tired!#i. dont know how to tag this. whatever! if you see it you see it!#ok im going to sleep. for a whopping three hours before my alarm goes off. *less than three. Sigh.#i always do this! its like 'oh i have to wake up early tomorrow! lets not sleep at all! im feeling so creative!'#gonna go think about this au's laughingstock as i drift to sleep #FOR THREE. HOURS.#have i mentioned the three hours????

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marypsue · 3 years

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Anyway! While I’m on the subject of big-budget franchises with David Harbour and extremely affected Russian accents in them (she says, several days after making the first such post), I have a number of (mostly uncomplimentary) thoughts about how the Russians in Stranger Things season 3 are constructed and written and framed, but they all pretty much boil down to “Steve knocking out the Russian guard in a fistfight is classic propaganda”.

The villains of s1 and s2 can best be described as, well, sometimes the bad guys are smart too. The Lab and the Mind Flayer are competent. They are threatening. When they work in secret, they’re very difficult to detect. Their motivations appear to be largely internally consistent, and to exist independently of Our Heroes (well, up until s3, anyway). Their actions have logic behind them and are intended to help achieve their goals. They pose a genuine challenge to and even frequently outwit or outfight Our Heroes - except when it really counts.

By comparison, the Russians in s3 are cardboard props for Our Heroes to knock down. Not a single one of them has a distinct personality beyond ‘funny accent villain’ (except maybe the Terminator expy, who is a Terminator expy). They act as plot devices, not characters; their actions don’t always seem to have a consistent internal logic behind them, and don’t always even benefit them or move them toward what poorly-defined goals they might have. Rather, they’re reduced to whatever the writers think will, in the moment, make them look Big and Bad and Scary (or Cute and Funny and Likeable, in Alexei’s case), oppose (or, again re: Alexei, assist) Our Heroes’ goals, and/or move the plot forward.

That’s plain old bad writing. By itself, it’s unremarkable. Lots of writers make these mistakes when they construct antagonists.

But also: the Russians - who, again, are not written or presented as full, individual people with goals, motivations, and coherent internal realities - are framed as simultaneously a terrifying, irresistible, insidious threat to everything the viewer is assumed to hold dear, and weak, incompetent, bumbling buffoons. And that’s where we tip over into propaganda.

I’m sure this has been talked about at length by people more knowledgeable than me. But this, to the best of my understanding, is one of the primary ways propaganda works. It presents an enemy, defines them as an other - not a person, like you and me, not really - and establishes them as a clear and present threat. It has to make them dangerous. It has to make them scary. It has to make its audience feel personally threatened and endangered by the very existence of this other, so that its audience wants to see that other defeated, subdued, gone. They could be in your unassuming Midwestern town! They could be hiding under your crowning symbol of capitalist success! And you would never know until it was too late, and they’d already unleashed unimaginable horror on the world and way of life you treasure, destroying it forever!

But also, propaganda can’t give the enemy too much credit. Too much fear plays into your enemy’s hands, leaves your own people afraid to move against them. And, if the enemy looks competent enough to pull off the kinds of atrocities pinned to them, then they might start looking smart. Like people who might have good ideas. Like people who might be able to win.

So the enemy also has to be shown to be weak. Pathetic. A laughingstock. Easily outwitted and defeated by, for example, four bored kids - because the least of us is still smarter, stronger, better than the best of them.

So you might show that enemy as cunning and devious enough to build a secret base and laboratory under a shopping mall in the heart of enemy territory without anyone noticing - but too stupid or lazy to outfit it with any kind of security system. Powerful and unstoppable enough to hunt down and murder a man with impunity in the middle of a crowd - and it’s notable that the only person the Terminator expy actually manages to kill is one of his own - but weak and useless enough to lose a fistfight to a teenager who has, every other time he’s fought another vanilla human, had his ass absolutely handed to him. Terrifying and insidious - but ultimately powerless and pathetic.

Anyway, that’s why I’m worried about s4 trying to take Our Heroes to Russia.

#we are just kicking hornets' nests and throwing stones at glass houses today on mary pea soup dot tunglr dot corn #stranger things #ALSO also only semi related but the show sets alexei up to be this Suuuper Geeenius #and then makes him act like just a literal child #i don't just mean 'this is a place and set of customs and language that are new to him and he's a lil naive'#i mean like literally he and ten-year-old erica are written with IDENTICAL personalities #her ice cream mercenary scene and his bratty shit with the slurpee flavour??#like if that character had been played by a twelve- to fourteen-year-old i might have bought it #but as it stood it was just...annoying #and came off really infantilising #like this grown ass man is just too ~naive~ and ~innocent~ and ~childlike~ to fully appreciate what's going on around him #to appreciate the danger he's in and display a full range of appropriate emotions #to understand how teh evulz his country is and how much ~better~ amurrica is which is CLEARLY the only reason he's loyal to them #and as soon as he's Shown The Light he just flips to the other side with zero apparent understanding or internal conflict #like does this man have a family??? does he have parents on the other side of the iron curtain???? what does he CARE about #other than his own skin?????#they never tell us! and thus i never have a reason to give a damn!#dunno if all this was intentional or just a side effect of basing them all on late 80s action movie villains or what #but either way it's there #anyway the show has demonstrated quite neatly to me that it cannot be trusted to handle international cold war politics #with any degree of nuance or thoughtfulness or tension or halfway decent writing #and I'm not thrilled about the prospect of being asked to care about MORE cardboard cutouts #set up for Our Heroes to dramatically and demonstratively knock over #personally I also think it reflects poorly on Our Heroes when all they fight is cardboard #like if there's no real challenge in it for them and they didn't really risk or overcome anything #then it tells me nothing about who they are and what they're capable of or care about #or whether they'd fold in the face of a REAL challenge #obviously i still like. enjoy the show. but i feel like it's sliding slowly rrrrrrrright off the rails #and frankly i am Worried #anyway apparently there's a tag limit now so the remainder of my s4 predictions will have to wait for another post

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egelantier · 3 years

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Tian Guan Ci Fu

where is it and what is it

it’s a chinese webnovel by mxtx, the same author who did untamed; it exists as a webnovel, finished and kindly translated here, the manhwa, the donghua (animated adaptation) happening right now, and there’s a live action adaptation in plans, directed by the same guy who did untamed. the donghua is gorgeous, the adaptation i’m unsure about but prepared to be hopeful, the manhwa seems to be very pretty. but all the adaptations only cover the very beginning of the novel for now, so i went ahead and read the novel, and i have no regrets. it helps that the translation is very good - not without awkward translatorese, but it has consistent and engaging flow and style, and it’s also pretty good at conveying mxtx’s humor without awkwardness. it reads pretty well.

what’s it about?

the world is split into two parts: mortals and various ghosts and demons and entities share the land, while ‘heaven officials’, aka gods, live in the heavenly kingdom in the sky. pretty much anybody can become a god if they do something really heroic or memorable and/or cultivate (meditation, training, virtuous behavior) really hard. when above, the gods rule their domains and fulfill their believers’ wishes; they work sort of like pratchettian gods, dependent on their followers’ beliefs and getting influenced by them. heavens are strictly hierarchical, with their own economy and pecking order, and the gods aren’t particularly sinless or benevolent; mostly it’s a question of scale.

our hero, xie lian, is a prince of a prosperous kingdom who’s been on a fast track to ascension for most of his very short life; he’s talented, he’s virtuous, he’s kind, he’s strong, and his only peculiar flaw is (somehow naive, but well-meaning) obsession with equality and value of human lives and so on. he becomes a god, unexpectedly, at seventeen, after slaying one especially dangerous god, and rises in heaven at the peak of his faith, influence and happiness.

…and then he finds out about drought and incipient trouble in his own kingdom, and, being a young and righteous god too close to his mortality, eschews heavens and returns to save everybody. it, to put it lightly, does not go well. at all. in fact, it goes catastrophically wrong, and, having lost everything, xie lian ascends again, only to get into a fight with the heavenly emperor, and get banished again, this time for good. he roams the mortal lands for next eight hundred of very lonely, luckless and hard years, technically immortal but not invincible, with his powers and his luck stripped away, and leans to make do, eking out a living as a scrap collector. his temples are desecrated, his name is forgotten, his kingdom is long gone, and - well. so it goes.

so it goes! until one day, to everybody’s great surprise, he ascends once again: a humble, gentle, immune to embarrassment, unflappable man, an embarrassment to heavens, a 'laughingstock of three realms’ who just wants to be left well enough alone. he’s Tired.

instead of rest, he gets sent to investigate a dangerous ghost stealing brides who pass through its mountain, and there, during the course of the interrogation, has his first (he thinks) meeting with a terrifying, old-powerful and vengeful ghost king named hua cheng, who likes to terrorize heavens from time to time. but said ghost king seems to be very benevolent and very interested in helping xie lian, and xie lian is pretty instantly smitten… with knowing what’s the cause of such interest.

…and meanwhile, in the beginning, there'was an unlucky boy, born under the worst stars, whom xie lian saved from falling once, while still mortal, and promptly lost track of. a lot of things happened to this boy, who wanted to be the most devoted worshipper to xie lian the god of the sword and the flower. as one does, you know.

that’s the beginning! from there on: investigations, heavenly secrets, old friends and enemies and acquaintances, thematic parallels, old tragedies, more pining than you can shake a stick at, grand acts of love.

is it good?

it’s very, very good. it’s the first fantasy cnovel i read (aside from the hilarious one about a guy traveling back in his own timeline and becoming a sugar baby to a mafia boss, which was in a very different league), so i don’t know which things are baseline and which things are unique, but it had a very solid foundation: ambitious multilevel, multi-timeline plot coming together in the end both events- and emotions-wise, beautifully iddy main relationship, maybe multifaceted characters who change and grow and clash together in fun ways, a clear and heartfelt understanding of its own core themes.

it’s also, unexpectedly, very funny, in this visual, slapsticky, begs-to-be-adapted way - i found myself laughing out loud over it a lot of times, and it possesses this gift of swerve between understated but earnest emotions and all-out jokes that i associate with… a bit of prattchett and a bit of gintama, honestly. take it as you will.

(oh my god the mecha. i will laugh over this one until i die.)

it also made me cry several times; granted, it’s not like it’s this time, but those were very heartfelt tears.

and the main duo?

first let me say that xie lian was lifted out, wholesale, out of my deepest character preferences. he fell really, really far, and did some bad things, and some very horrible things were done to him, and by the time we meet him he went through everything and achieved this effortless kind of traumatized, humble, accepting, wryly self-deprecating, utterly competent chill that makes a character incredibly appealing to me. he’s kind, and he’s sweet, and he’s gotten any possible embarrassment at least a couple of centuries ago, and he kinda made peace with himself and kinda didn’t. i love him.

and, thankfully for me, hua cheng, the ghost king, loves him a whole damn lot, a ridiculous amount, an epic, over-the-lifetimes, life-shattering amount, and he’s a terrifying presence to everybody else and a shy, protective, sweet dork to xie lian, and every time they’re together on page my entire heart is just. it’s AMAZING. he’s a great combination of playing the obsessive protective yandere stalker-lover trope straight and putting it on its head, by making hua cheng not just revere but respect xie lian, in all his good and bad decisions.

they are just so - good for each other, holy shit. they get each other so well. they’re the best ever power team. i love them.

(the rest of canon is various character reenacting “really? in front of my salad?” meme at them. it’s hysterical, and it’s the best. everybody teams up to tell xie lian that his boyfriend is Problematic way, way before xie lian clues into the fact that he does have a boyfriend, and he’s having none of it. i love it.)

and the themes?

okay, so. roughly half of this novel is ridiculous iddy pining, and a fourth of it is various tropes (off the top of my head: soulbond, sex pollen, body switch, de-age, various shades of identity porn… crossdressing…) played very shamelessly. but it also really benefits from having an overarching set of ethical questions, and while it deals with them a bit shounen-style, it still deals with them, and it makes the whole text fresh, and sweet, and bold.

is it possible to save everybody? should you try to save everybody? if you lack the powers to back your convictions, does it make you complicit? when is it possible to stop the cycle of suffering, what can you do if you want to but can’t? if you tried and people you failed turned on you, whose fault it is, where does the blame stop?

Detailed spoilers begin from here, and i would REALLY advise to stay unspoiled, because the domino reveals are very fun

i loved the various ways the novel sets all those pieces up and then overturns them and then returns to them. xie lian wanted to save everybody and it was arrogant naivete of an untried, untested, privileged young man who never had a real challenge before; his presence made things escalate quicker, and yet everybody around him pretended it was his attempt to make things better that ruined everything, and not a combination of factors outside of his control. and yet he accepts the blame, because it dovetails with his shame at not having enough powers to back his intent up; and yet his triumph over bai wuxian is that he doesn’t, after all, renege on his initial drive to help people.

my most favorite part of this novel is that its turning point, the lynchpin of the whole novel, the moment that keeps xie lian’s soul and safety intact, is not his personal purity and drive; it’s not even hua cheng’s devotion and sacrificial love. it’s just a moment of little, grudging, human kindness from a little, petty, rude man whom the history will sweep away soon. the bamboo hat in the rain. the rest of the plot keeps twisting and turning and coming back to itself, but this? this was unquestionably, beautifully clear, and i loved it. it’s never about the gods, it’s all down to - fallen human is human, ascended human is human, and human is not some state, virtuous or sinful, you get stuck with - it’s a multitude of choices, and there’s never a final one.

and incoherent spoilery screaming for people who read it already

oh my god i had SO MUCH FUN. i’ve been flailing on meme for days, because somebody just finished reading there too, and i’m still bursting with ALL THE FEELS. ruoye origins oh my god! that hat! jin wu’s backstory and ultimate end! e-ming’s praise kink! pei ming’s little shippery 'hoho’! hua cheng’s horribly handwritten stick and poke tattoo of xie lian’s name! the lanteeeeeeeeeeeeerns. feng xin and mu qing on the bridge, making up with each other and with xie lian! hua cheng trying to explain to xie lian that his habit of using himself as bait and pincushion at any given moment is deeply emotionally upsetting to him, and succeeding! banyue’s learning from xie lian to be a truly horrible cook! the entire deal with shi qingxuan and he xuan and the wind fan in the end. THE CAVE. THE GIANT MECHA. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and i am beset, beset by feelings. come scream with me.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #xie lian #hua cheng #cdramas #cnovels #mxtx

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everyonewasabird · 3 years

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Brickclub 3.2.3 ‘Luc-Esprit’

Gillenormand’s name is the chapter title, so it’s probably significant. It means, at a basic level, “light” and “spirit,” and there’s kind of an implication at the end of the chapter that his godfather may have been a little optimistic in picking it.

It feels mostly relevant by its sheer irony.

(Rose’s notes point out that esprit also means “wit” in an 18th century sense, which is maybe closer to a trait Gillenormand actually has. Luke is the writer of one of the gospels, but I don’t know enough about the bible to say anything beyond that.)

It’s a short chapter, and I don’t have much to say. I really appreciate the portrait of the eighteenth century we get.

There are ways in which I see in Gillenormand when he’s very young some of the fleeting charm of youth that will later be attributed to Courfeyrac: he’s spirited and in love and getting enmeshed in awkward social situations with famous women. I don’t have any particular fondness for him, but if all I knew of him was who he was at sixteen, I wouldn’t hate him. And I wouldn’t assume he was incapable of growth.

But we find out immediately how his story turns out. He’s going to harden into an ultraroyalist misogynist who’s a dick to anyone he has power over, and he thinks that anyone who gains power they weren’t born to is a laughingstock. Everyone has his place in the ancien régime, and it would be ridiculous to try to alter that.

Unlike Myriel--who’s the same age in a way that makes me think Gillenormand is designed to be his foil--Gillenormand reacts to the revolution by digging in his heels and rejecting all change. Unlike some of the more dynamic characters, the initial description we get of him will never stop being accurate because he never transcends it.

For many of the rest of the cast, proximity to death confers upon them light and spirit and a kind of transcendent power. Gillenormand’s almost preternaturally prolonged life--by the standards of this book, anyway--seems to exist at the expense of the kind of dynamism and change and soul that other characters are capable of.

I want to say that the other characters gave up their lives, or at least their attachment to the outcomes of their lives, in order to change themselves and the world. Gillenormand seems to have given up the opposite. He renounced both death and change some time in the 1790s--as evidenced by the last time he changed his outfit.

Being superficially happy forever seems to have conferred something like immortality on him--but at what cost?

And I think the answer is: none that he’s capable of noticing.

#brickclub #lm 3.2.3

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writingbakery · 4 years

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“what’s new, pussycat?”

this work is my absolute pride & joy, one that i hold very near & dear to my heart! it was previously written for a different fandom, & ive reworked it to fit here. i hope you love it as much as i do, & yes - there will be more parts to this story! ✨taglist; @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @monst @shinhoetoshi @shinsouzone @togasknifes

[pairing; panther familiar! hitoshi shinso x green witch gn! reader]

[warnings; fluff, meet-cutes, magical au, bitchy witches, soft words, strangers to lovers]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

for a green witch in a relatively small town, you’ve got a pretty good life.

you’re not the most powerful witch around; your talents are more centered around healing, crafting potions & spells, but you don’t mind. you like helping people, whisking away their problems & leaving them happier than when they walked into your little shop.

your shop is perfectly situated right at the forest line at the end of town, making it easy for you to restock your supply. you don’t get many customers, but you treat everyone like they’re most important, focusing on what they need & providing them with just what they’ve asked for. you don’t have many friends, most of the other witches not thinking much of your talents or your profession - they were all more modern witches, using electricity & technology to help others - but the ones you do have treat you nothing but kindly.

you’ve got everything you need in your little shop; a tiny apartment just above it, a loyal customer base, & the forest to soothe your worries.

the only thing you don’t have is a familiar.

you turned twenty six months ago, the age at which every witch receives their familiar. sometimes, it happens sooner, sometimes it takes a little longer. you’re just a hint impatient.

you’ve been ready for your familiar since your powers emerged at six years old, little flowers & vines bursting from chubby fingers & small palms. your friends even had a betting pool set up, sero swearing that you would get a kitty cat, & kirishima insisting it would be a rabbit.

you don’t care what your familiar is. you just want to meet them.

you’ve nagged your mother more than enough over the years, whining & complaining at your lack of a companion - both the animal aspect of them, & the human. familiars often became their witches’ best friends, & on most occasions, have fallen in love with them.

it’s a romantic concept, really. two magical beings, tied together forever by their shared powers, falling in love.

you’ve had dreams about it. kaminari makes fun of you for it whenever he can.

still, you don’t need to fall in love with your familiar. you love them already for supporting & adding to your magic, even if you haven’t met yet. you just know you’re going to be the best of friends.

you also side with sero. you’re definitely hoping for a kitty.

you alway tell your friends you don’t mind being patient, but secretly, you wish your familiar would speed things up a bit.

the other witches in town don’t tease you outright, a bit more poised than that, but you’ve heard more than enough whispered giggles of “bet it’s a fly, & it just can’t find them” & “maybe [y/n]’s just too weak for one”. you know they consider you a joke, a laughingstock, but you do your best to ignore them, burying your head in your spellbooks & inventing new potion strains.

you’re good at what you do, & that’s all that matters. but with a familiar, at least you’d fit in. you’re not expecting anything huge, not like the wolf inasa got, or the pheonix momo was gifted. you just want something that’ll care for you, help with your little tasks & fill the hole in your heart.

you even have a little side room set up in your shop for them, complete with a small fluffy bed & lots of pillows. kaminari had wrinkled his nose at the setup. “what if they don’t like all the fluff?” he’d asked - his familiar, an overexcited ring tailed lemur named mina, had absolutely destroyed the setup kaminari made for her, choosing to snuggle the taller witch in her human form every night. you had a separate betting pool with kirishima & bakugou about when those two would finally start dating.

mostly, you just hope your familiar won’t be disappointed with you. you aren’t the fastest on a broomstick, or the smartest with spells. your potions are good, but they take you a while to brew, & you don’t get that many customers. you’re definitely not the best witch in town, but you try your best, & you hope that counts for something.

it ends up counting for a lot, even if you don’t realize.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re looking through your little vials & plants one day, crafting a rejuvenation potion for mrs. parks - she’s got a garden to maintain if she wants to win first place in the landscaping competition next week, & at 85 it doesn’t always come naturally - when you realize you’re clean out of starflower. the pretty little orange & yellow foliage always added an extra boost to your energy potions, & you chance a glance out of your shop windows. it’s a nice day, sunny but not too hot, & you easily tug on your jacket & basket to gather some from the forest.

the air is warm, floaty with the smell of spring & you bask in the pleasant heat of the sun as you walk. the forest is unusually quiet, a sort of energetic thrum hovering just under the surface & normally, you would be concerned. but the day is so lovely, the warmth seeping into your bones & you brush it off as a slight imbalance in the woods.

you find the right clearing relatively quickly, sitting cross legged amidst the flowers & beginning to pluck them. you coo to the brightly colored petals gently, asking them to feel safe, protected. you wouldn’t hurt them, nor waste them unnecessarily. they were headed to a good purpose, & you reassure them as such as they make their way into your basket.

the already quiet air stills suddenly, birds silent in the trees & leaves pausing their ruffling. you shut your eyes & soaks up the sudden silence, an odd sense of calm settling over your body before you open them again.

a pair of amethyst violet eyes stare back at you, barely ten feet away from your face.

you open your mouth to scream, but let out nothing but air; your breath seems caught in your throat, lodged painfully deep. the creature in front of you is still, black fur gleaming glossy in the afternoon sun - a panther, twice the size of any normal big cat, sharp fangs glinting in its large mouth. you just stare, frozen & wide eyed.

the panther tilts its head at you inquisitively, letting out a sharp exhale through its velvety - almost cute? - black nose. you do scream this time, a barely there squeak that youd defend to your dying day as a very aggressive yell.

& then you pass clean out, slumping to the cool forest floor.

above you, the panther simply snorts, rolling bright purple eyes in mild annoyance as it curls its lithe form around your unconscious body, settling in for a nap.

it protects you from harm, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you wake up confused & a little dizzy.

you’ve only been out about an hour, but already the sun sits lower in the sky, a chill sweeping through the quiet wood. you’re disoriented, taking a few moments to remember where you are, & why. youre warm despite the cool forest air, body swathed in silky softness. you burrow deeper into the warmth, sighing softly as you toe the line between sleep & awake.

then you remember the panther.

shooting straight up from the dirt, you look around wildly, all traces of sleepiness gone as you take in your surroundings.

the panther lays curled around you like a warm blanket, keeping you tucked up against its shoulder with massive black paws crossed in front of your legs. it’s fast asleep, not even stirring as you shift a little to study its face.

gold runes run from the tips of each large, silky ear, trailing down either side of its face to its long whiskers. each rune matches one on your own arms, elegantly winding down your smooth skin. a little flutter settles in your chest.

this is your familiar.

you run one slim finger down the sides of the panther’s sleeping face, gentle & light as you trace over the marks that mirror the ones you’ve had since birth. it’s a little nerve wracking, a little unreal.

you’re so awestruck you don’t feel a pair of sharp violet eyes tracking your every move, looking just a little fond.

you start a little when the panther stretches, long heavy limbs arcing out into the air as it yawns. you get a good eyeful of sharp, gleaming white fangs & an impossibly cute pink tongue before the panther is staring at you again, seemingly waiting for your next move.

oh right.

hastily clambering to your feet, you stand in front of the lying animal, just about level with its head. you swallow a little nervously, shifting from foot to foot as you look up into bright, curious eyes.

“a-are you my familiar?” you ask, immediately cursing yourself for stammering & asking stupid questions. you’re supposed to have your shit together, you’re the witch here.

the panther seems unfazed, if not a little amused, as it nods once, then twice, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. your own eye twitches.

you’ve got a familiar. a panther familiar. you, [y/n l/n], who can’t fly a broomstick straight & nearly burnt down your shop crafting a potion last week.

suddenly everything seems a whole lot less simple than it was before.

bracing your hands against your knees to catch your breath, you let your mind go wild, running through a million thoughts at once. what would the other witches say? what would your friends say? how the fuck was this panther going to fit inside your house?

you don’t have a single answer for any of them that won’t send you into a panic.

your stomach ends up deciding for you, the low rumble of it breaking the tense silence. the panther actually does roll its eyes at you this time, standing to its full - very, very tall height & moving to kneel at your side. it motions towards its back a little impatiently, & you scramble to climb on.

you can feel lean, powerful muscle underneath you as the panther begins to walk through the forest, quickly shifting through the underbrush towards town.

it’s much quicker than you walking on your own, & you appreciate that.

you know you’re going to get plenty of stares once you hit town, & you’ve already got a plan set: make it through quickly, avoid questions, & once you’ve got the both of you locked up in your shop, the panther can shift to its human form & introduce themselves. simple.

the second you step foot - & paw - into the town, you know you’re screwed.

all of the townsfolk are staring wide eyed, giving the pair of you a very wide berth as the panther trots along the street. hushed whispers are already circulating, & you can feel endless sets of eyes digging into your back.

just a couple more feet, a few more moments. then we’ll be safe, you think as your shop comes into view, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. you slide down off the panthers back to unlock the door & usher it in, locking it behind you both with another relieved sigh. you relax too soon.

there, in your kitchen, sit sero & kirishima, both gaping as they stare at the massive panther in your foyer. sero’s got a teapot in one hand, the other cupping the air - a shattered mug at his feet.

“we came for tea,” kirishima squeaks. sero is dumbfounded where he stands. the panther huffs unamused, tail flicking & breaking one of the china plates along the wall.

you sink to the floor in despair.

what the fuck, is all you can think, burying your head in your hands.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

your friends take it all in surprisingly well. sero sweeps up the shattered mug & dish, kirishima makes them all tea, & you have a mild panic attack.

the panther simply curls up in a corner of the shop, avoiding everything delicate as it takes up a good chunk of the space. kirishima can’t stop staring at it, eyes blown wide as he takes in every inch of the creature.

“it’s really yours? your familiar?” he’d asked, voice hushed. you swatted at his arm with a scowl, glancing over at the uninterested panther. “stop talking about it like it’s not here! you know it can hear you.”

truthfully, however, you don’t even think the panther is listening. it has an air of disinterest clouded around it, lazily examining its paws & twitching its whiskers every so often.

sero maintains that he won the bet, much to your chagrin. “it’s just a really big cat!” he insists. kirishima simply rolls his eyes & tells him to take it up with bakugou.

it takes an hour or two, but eventually you manage to shoo your friends out of your shop, a headache building at their incessant questioning - “so what's its name? boy or girl? did it try to eat you? why is it looking at me like that?” - & all you want to do is sleep.

you lead the panther to the small side room you’d dolled up, albeit for a much smaller animal, wincing at the judgemental look you receive in return. “right, that won’t work. i mean, you could stay in my bed? it’s really big, just a bunch of cushions & blankets on a floor mattress?” you offer, twisting your fingers in your shirt a little shyly. the panther pauses, then nods again, squeezing its massive frame through the narrow staircase to follow you upstairs.

your bed - a custom made mattress that spanned nearly across the entirety of your bedroom floor - seemed to accommodate the panther just fine, and it paced around once, twice, before settling in one corner of it. its lithe form took up a good two thirds of the mess of blankets, & you can’t help but coo at the sight. it really was just a big kitty cat, although you’d probably never say it to the creature’s face.

you busy yourself with getting ready for bed, washing your face, brushing your teeth & changing into your baggy blue silk pajamas - they’ve got little yellow crescent moons sewn into them, & you swear the panther laughs at you in them - before settling between the sheets.

“goodnight, mr. panther,” you mumble sleepily, silently hoping that things would be easier to fix in the morning before drifting off to dreams.

above you, the panther huffs a little fondly, nuzzling your soft little cheek before falling asleep as well.

—

the next few days aren’t any easier.

for one, you’re swamped with customers for the first time ever, people crowding into the tiny shop to catch a glimpse of the enormous panther curled up in the corner. normally you wouldn’t allow it, but the panther doesn’t seem to mind, & everyone who walks in leaves with something - you’re making a killing.

another little problem: the arrival of your - rather powerful - familiar means your own abilities have gotten a much needed boost. everything you make is soaked in energy, & your plants are shooting towards the ceiling every other hour.

in short, you’re probably the most powerful nature witch in the country, let alone the county.

you appreciate the fact that you’re better at what you do, but it tires you out quicker, & you’re twice as busy now that you can do so much.

all of this would be reasonably manageable, if your familiar wasn’t still stuck in its animal form.

the panther’s refused to shift for the entirety of the time you’ve known it, staying in its animal form in the corner of the shop. it simply watches & observes, occasionally nudging the right vial or plant closer to you with its large black nose. it’s a cute sight, the little nature witch bustling around the shop in your emerald green robes, a huge black panther tracking your every move with a fond expression. you’ve started to get comfortable around it as well, but you would like to get to know it eventually, & you enlist kirishima’s help.

the more experienced witch drops by with an old history book one afternoon when you aren’t as busy, the pair of you sitting at the table to read up on familiars.

“it says here familiars usually shift within the first day of meeting their witch,” kiri reads from the book, squinting at the tiny text. you had shooed the panther into the garden so you could talk uninterrupted, & you watch as the large creature nips at the butterflies circling its head. it makes you smile, heart a little fond at the sight.

“it’s been almost a week, kiri,” you pout, looking up at the witch in concern. maybe it's not comfortable with me yet, you add in your head. your stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.

kirishima, seemingly sensing your worry, ruffles a hand through your hair, a reassuring smile on his face.

“don’t worry, [y/n]. i’m sure they’re still getting used to being here with you,” the taller comforts you. “just give it a little time.”

watching as your familiar tramples your hydrangeas, looking up at the window with a guilty expression on its face, you can only sigh.

“i hope you’re right.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

nearly two months later, you’re starting to doubt kirishima’s advice.

your familiar still hasn’t shifted in front of you, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion it does while you’re asleep, a smattering of all black clothes hidden in random corners of his shop.

you still know absolutely nothing about them, every question you throw at the panther met with unblinking silence. but the panther knows all about you.

it knows which tea you prefer in the morning & evening, nudging out the right canisters with one massive paw. it knows every plant in your shop & garden, delicately ripping out whichever ones you need with sharp fangs. it knows to growl when a potion is boiling over, or huff when a customer is at the door. it even ran off a few thieves a week ago, snarling with its hackles raised at the foot of the stairs as they screamed & ran. you had given it an hour long head massage, complete with ear scratches, as a thank you.

the panther has settled itself in your shop & your life almost perfectly, a constant presence that you’ve grown fond of. but it doesn’t change the fact that they still haven’t revealed themselves to you. you feel like this relationship is ridiculously imbalanced; the panther knows you inside & out. you don’t even know their name.

still, you push down any doubt or insecurities you’re feeling, determined to let the panther come to you in your own time.

the mayor’s birthday changes all of that.

the mayor always requests a grand celebration, complete with magical fireworks, charmed balloons, singing lilies, & a three tier magical cake. normally, he only requests singing lilies & roses from you.

this year, you get a golden invoice for everything.

the mayor wants you to craft the cake, enchant the balloons & streamers, gather the singing flowers, and charm the fireworks, all in less than two days. you immediately break into a sweat.

you can’t ask your friends for help, as they’re tied up in their own town’s festivities. your only choice is to get the other witches’ in town; surely they’d help with the mayor’s birthday celebration.

surely not. they laugh you away from their shops the moment you ask, a pleading expression on your face.

“you shouldn’t need help, little dirt witch. you’ve got that powerful familiar of yours, don’t you? unless you can’t handle it,” they mock you, & your fists clench unwillingly; you force yourself to breathe.

you don’t need their help, or their disdain. you’re going to do it all by yourself.

you start with the flowers, collecting the brightest & loudest singers from your garden & placing them in charmed rainwater to keep them pristine. the panther helps where it can, delicately holding them between its fangs.

enchanting the streamers & balloons takes the better part of the day, & you’re up late into the night crafting the fireworks the right way. you fall asleep in a spellbook, the cake left forgotten till the morning. the panther simply rests its head next to yours on the table, the pair of you fast asleep until the next day.

when you wake up, the birds are chirping steadily outside, sunlight filtering in through the windows. it’s calm & soothing, & for a moment you’re at peace.

then you see the time, panic immediately setting in.

“wake up! wake up! i have to have the cake ready in four hours! it’s going to take me three just to mix the batter!” you’re running around the shop in a flurry of robes & quick spells, arms full of supplies. the panther just watches from its position on the floor, eyebrow quirked.

you’re halfway through mixing the batter when you realize you won’t finish in time.

you can’t focus on charming all three tiers at once as he mixes, but if you do them one by one you won’t finish in time. you pause, turning desperate eyes onto the panther.

“i know you’re not ready, & i didn’t want to push, but please. i need your help,” you plead. hands clasped in front of you & flour in your hair. the panther continues to stare, unmoving, as though immune to your begging.

it’s too much all at once, stress & anxiety building until you snap.

“why not! why! i get it! i understand you’re disappointed! i’m not some high tech witch in a big city, i’m not powerful! i’m weak & i suck & i can’t brew potions fast without blowing them up & i fell off my broomstick in the garden & you saw, i know! i just need help, for god’s sake! just help me, & you don’t ever have to talk to me again!” you promise, eyes watery as you burst into tears.

dropping your head into your hands to muffle your sobs, you barely register the faint whirling of air in front of you.

hands suddenly flutter over your crying form, hovering just above touching you as a low, rough voice pulls you from your misery.

“please stop crying, shit, please, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to make you cry, fuck,” you hear, & you tilt your head up, rubbing tears from your eyes.

there’s a man standing in front of you, wearing all black. he’s got messy purple hair sticking up from all sides & dark eyes, a hint of violet flashing through them in the light. there’s circles as dark as his clothes under his eyes, a familiar look on his face - like you’d seen it every morning waking up.

this ridiculously handsome man, looking slightly panicked, is your familiar. every time you’d called him a “pretty kitty” suddenly flashes through your mind.

fuck.

pushing all those thoughts to the back of your mind, you straighten up, hastily wiping your eyes on your robe sleeves. “can you stir the second pot, please? i’ll worry about the other ones,” you ask meekly, a little embarrassed now. you ignore the familiar’s prying gaze, simply muttering spells under your breath as you stir the first mixture.

the pair of you don’t speak unless it’s instructions, racing around the tiny shop to craft the magical cake. flour & sugar & icing cover every available surface as you wave your hands, whisking it all over the towering cake. you struggle a little to reach the very top, on your tiptoes as you attempt to frost the highest tier. warm, strong hands grip your waist & lift you right off the ground, holding you up to help; you blush furiously as you quickly finish.

you’re just putting the final smattering of glitter onto the cake when the mayor’s party attendants arrive to collect it. you can finally breathe as you watch them carry off everything you both had made, shoulders sagging in relief.

your familiar leans against the counter, wiping down the tables with a rag as he watches you. now that everything’s been finished, there’s no avoiding it.

“i’m hitoshi. that’s my name,” the panther - hitoshi - offers, presumably sensing your nerves. “& for the record, i think you’re a great witch. youre powerful all on your own, even without me.”

you can’t help your smile at that, a little flush to your cheeks as you sit at the table. “then.. then why didn’t you shift?” you ask softly. up close, you can see tiny freckles in place of hitoshi’s whiskers, the glossiness of his hair reminiscent of his panther fur.

the familiar shrugs, cheeks going a bit pink themselves as he stares at the table. “at first, i was just a little shy. it’s nerve wracking, meeting your witch. & then you just… passed out, you know? i was worried about how you’d react, so i decided to give you time.” you can understand that, listening closely.

“you were so nice to me, you weren’t scared at all. you scratched behind my ears & made me cleansing potions. & you let me stay in your bed, so easily. you were just…. nicer than i expected. and…. and prettier.” the familiar’s cheeks are a rosy red now, bright in contrast to his soft skin & prominent dark circles. you think it’s adorable.

“i just didn’t want you to think any different of me, you know? you liked panther me a lot, even though i kept breaking stuff, &.... i wanted you to keep liking me.” you outright coo at that, ignoring your familiar’s protests as you dissolve into giggles.

“really? of course i’d still like you, silly! i let you cuddle me! i called you mr whiskers for a solid month! oh god, i called you mr whiskers,” you whine, pouting a little. you’d called hitoshi a bunch of silly nicknames before he’d shifted, from pretty kitty to mr whiskers to sugarpaws. you’d been trying to compensate, in your defense, & hitoshi had seemed to like them.

hitoshi’s the one laughing now, smile bright as he gives you that same fond look. “it was cute. you were trying really hard,” he admits, head cocked to the side as he watches you.

you sit in a comfortable sort of silence then, simply taking in each other’s presence a moment.

“so, you thought i was pretty, huh?” you tease, breaking the silence as you move to stand in front of hitoshi. you giggle more at the flush that follows, ignoring hitoshi’s mumbling rant about “soft little witches” & “green robes & moon pajamas, that's ridiculous”, your smile growing ever wider.

you tap a finger against hitoshi’s nose, the familiar protesting in flustered panic. standing on tiptoe, you press a light kiss to the cranberry stained cheek, watching hitoshi absolutely melt.

“i thought you were cute too, pretty kitty,” you smile, turning to tidy up the pots & spellbooks & leaving an awestruck hitoshi at the table, hand frozen where you had pressed your lips.

i could get used to that, you think, giggling as hitoshi trips over himself to squish you against the counter, covering your face in kisses.

just you, your shop, & one pretty kitty.

#bnha shinsou #bnha hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #shinso x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #boku no hero fluff #bnha fluff #evywrites

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ladyideal · 3 years

Text

Ficmas~ Day 17

Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Gender Neutral!reader

Word Count: 1205

Warnings: Slightly suggestive in the beginning.

Summary: You and Leonard have a day off on the Enterprise.

Requested By: @night-running-echo

A/n: Smh. I enjoyed writing writing this one. Almost got derailed lol.

7:00 AM

Sounds of an alarm pierced the silence. With a groan, your boyfriend smacked the button with a spare hand. Yawning, he watched you still sleeping, undisturbed. Waking up beside you every day was something he didn't imagine two years ago.

It was a pleasant surprise.

Gently, he traced your features, careful to not wake you. From the forehead, down to the nose, and stopped at your lips. There was nothing he didn't love about you.

"Mornin', sleepyhead," He spoke against your cheek.

"Lennn," You whined quietly, squirming around in his arms and blearily opening your eyes to look crossly over at him. "It's too early to be awake. Go back to sleep. We both have a day off."

You were the one thing he did right this time. This was where he wanted to stay, forever and always beside you.

"I've missed you, darlin'," He silently agreed, laying his head back on the pillow. Only smiling to himself when you didn't answer.

9:00 AM

"Pancakes or waffles?" You asked, finally sitting up in bed and reaching for one of your boyfriend's shirt.

"Pancakes." He spoke, watching intently as you padded out the room in nothing but a thin shirt of his.

Maybe one more time.

He enjoyed watching your ass before you disappeared out of sight.

"Gonna call your mom today?" You asked, flipping a pancake as you stood in front of the stove.

"Momma would get mad if I didn't. I've seen her holler at Donna before. Not a pretty sight," The doctor emerged from the bedroom, giving you a nice once over before hugging you from behind. "Smells good in here, sweetheart."

"Leonard," You warned, sliding the pancake onto a plate.

"Hmm?"

"What did we say about keeping our hands to ourselves?" You scolded lightly, adding more batter into the pan. "We don't want breakfast to burn, do we?"

He pouted at you, giving you one of his most adoring faces. You kept your resolve firm, frowning slightly at him. Looking like a scorned child, he turned to the sink to help wash and cut the fruits that would be placed later onto the plates. Laughing mostly to yourself, you continued your work and ruffled his hair.

"Good boy."

You swore you heard a growl.

11:19 AM

Managing to finish breakfast and calling his mom and daughter, you and him scrolled through your respective PADDs. He, as the Chief Medical Officer of the ship, meant a daily review of chartings and reports. For you, as a scientist of Commander Spock's elite research team, your team was in constant communication over new findings, theories, and scientific equations.

"Enough, this is our only day off together. Who knows when the last time we get this chance again?" You placed your PADD down, and stacked the used plates and utensils together.

Breakfast tasted far better than the cardboard version from the replicators.

"What should we do on the day off?" Leonard asked, flicking you with water as he washed the dishes. It was one way to keep the relationship interesting.

You swiped back at him with the kitchen towel you used to dry the plates, sticking your tongue out playfully at him. "Maybe watch some holos or some classic hallmark Christmas ones? Haven't done that or decorating the place yet."

He grunted in response which you took as a reluctant assent. "What do you want to watch, sweetheart?"

“Iron Man 3! My favorite Christmas movie!”

“FOR THE LAST TIME. IRON MAN 3 IS NOT A CHRISTMAS MOVIE.”

You laughed at his response. "Take that back, Leonard. Iron Man 3 is perfect for any season."

3:52 PM

Laundry.

You didn't know how after so long after so many cultures and technology coming together, that no one within the Federation figured out a way to quickly fold clothes. Essentially, folding clothes were the absolute bane of your existence.

As Leonard folded the last of the cycle, you placed his away grinning at the thought. "Remember that time when you wore my uniform and you wore mine?"

He snorted. "How could I not? Even Chris didn't mention it the entire day. Said my abs looked much better than Jim's at the end of Alpha. At the end, it was Geoff that mentioned the wrong uniform. I was made a laughingstock of my own medbay."

You shook your head, chuckling. "Not making that mistake again, are we? I'm sure you were fine, doctor. The nurses must have had a wonderful day in the Medbay. Jim got a kick out of it too."

"He knows?" Leonard gasped loudly. "How the hell did the infant know about it?"

"Surely a bird told him about it."

He eyed you, the same look he'd give when his orders were being questioned. Before you could take your words, his long talented hands began tickling you.

"Stop! Ahh," You giggled, weakly trying to shove his hands away.

"Say 'Doctor McCoy looks better.' or I'm not stopping."

"Doctor McCoy looks better," You wheeze out, thankful that he relented. "You win, you win."

Smugly, he sat down beside you on the bed. "I missed this."

"I missed this too," You agreed, getting to your feet again. "But I know what else you're not going to be missing anytime soon."

Ding Dong!

"Coming," You winked at Leonard before happily prancing towards the door. Thanking your friend, you lugged the large cardboard box inside.

"Ta da!"

"What the hell is this?" Your boyfriend prodded at the decorations within, as though afraid he would catch the Christmas cheer.

"Oh this? Some tinsel, lights, some stockings, small nutcrackers, pillows for the couch," You dug through the box. "Some mistletoe somewhere here."

"Mistletoe?" He echoed.

"Afraid to be caught under one, Doctor?"

8:01 PM

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Had a very shiny nose

And if you ever saw it

You would even say it glows

"Remind me why I can't kill the carolers?" Leonard grumbled once the carolers left for their next destination.

"Because you hold an oath," You reminded, washing away the last of the plates. Dinner was wonderful as usual. Real chicken noodle soup was always delectable.

The living room was transformed in time for the holidays. Tinsel glinted from the ceiling, stockings hung beside the TV, a small tree sat at the corner decorated with its own baubles and lights, and mistletoe hung right on top of the threshold into the bedroom. Pillows on the sofa was changed out, pumpkins were changed out for plastic snowmen, and a wreath hung right beside the door.

"Come on, Mister Grinch, admit it," You admired the living room, taking out two mugs out to make chocolate. "You enjoy Christmas."

"It's a fire hazard, Y/N," He answered, pouring in a generous glug of whiskey into both.

"That's not a no I'm hearing," You dunked in some small marshmallows before handing the beverage.

"Only with you, sweetheart," Leonard clinked his mug with yours.

"Why don't we watch a holo together? Nyota mentioned the Nutcracker ballet, a true Christmas classic." You offered. "Take the rest of the night off."

He groaned good naturedly, but sneaked a kiss in with your hot chocolate ones.

"You're all I would ever love."

Eats Everything: @asraime @aspiring-ginger @bluesclues-1234 @mournthewicked @also-fangirlinsweden @keijibum @groovyfluxie @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations @supergeekfangirl @your-sparklywinnercollection

Trekkies: @marvelouslytrekking @lykxzandlove @writerdee1701 @piccolaromana @mrs-l-mccoy @strange-old-worlds @april-showers-and-flowers @scraftskhu35 @worm-cant-read @fandomismymiddlename @childofthecornflakes @yueci @lgbtqcontinuum @dartheldur @goddess-of-many-fandoms @crackheadcastdirector @readingtrek

McCoy: @cobe76 @yakuzussian @space-cowboy2227 @lacychick @fxngsfogxarty @samanthasmileys @kimberlyfletcher

Urban: @justa-traaash @fandomsfeelsandfamily

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