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moiraineswife · 3 years

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Autistic Allegories in Renarin’s Arc - Meta

s’up y’all, your favourite local rambler is back at it again. Diving straight in to this one. The motivation for this post is something that might be controversial, and I’m going to try and explain it as clearly as I can and make my intentions clear, but I get this is the internet and things get misinterpreted to fuck.

So, since Renarin was confirmed to be a queer character, I’ve seen a lot of posts and takes on pretty much every platform I frequent that equates all of Renarin’s traits/struggles in canon as being foreshadowing/parallels to his queer identity and experience.

I get this. I’m also queer. I understand the instinct to take, say, Renarin’s corrupted spren bond and his desire to keep his nature as a Radiant hidden/his lack of understanding initially and assume it to be queer foreshadowing/parallel. I big get that. And that’s not a bad interpretation.

The problem is, this is the ONLY interpretation people put forth. They ignore things explicitly said/connections made in canon to Renarin being autistic and say ‘this is it. this is what this means. it’s about him being gay’. When, actually, a good chunk of it is about his experience as an autistic man in an allistic society. Which I think is what Brandon wants to explore/has set up in the text.

So I decided to look at this in more depth from an autistic perspective - some of the moments that most clearly parallel Renarin’s autistic experience and explain how and why this is a thing, and hopefully just highlight this aspect of his character and explain things to folks.

Renarin’s Blade Screaming

Jumping right into it then: Renarin’s bond with Glys is very clearly paralleled with his autism. The text outlines this connection multiple times throughout the series, and explores it in interesting ways.

First up, Renarin first revealing himself as a Truthwatcher makes this pretty clear:

“And the Shardblade,” Dalinar said, stepping over and taking his son by the shoulder. “You hear screams. That’s what happened to you in the arena. You couldn’t fight because of those shouts in your head from summoning the Blade. Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was me,” Renarin whispered. “My mind. But Glys, he says . . .” Renarin blinked. “Truthwatcher.” (WoR)

“Adolin,” he said softly. “I … um … I have to give you back the Shardblade you won for me.”

“Why?” Adolin said.

“It hurts to hold,” Renarin said. “It always has, to be honest. I thought it was just me, being strange. But it’s all of us.”

“Radiants, you mean.”

He nodded. (Oathbringer)

Renarin didn’t explain to his father or the others what was happening to him because he thought it was part of his autistic experience.

Being autistic you get used to experiencing a lot of in-brain things and not realising that other people don’t experience them, too. I have hypersensitivity to sound. I can hear things other people don’t, because their brains naturally filter them out - like electronics whining.

The experience of having a Shardblade scream inside your head is actually a pretty great parallel for sensory overload. It’s something intense, something frightening, and overwhelming, and even painful. But Renarin just endures it without comment because that’s what we’re conditioned to do.

“A group of shellheads tried to seize one of the bridges, Brightlord,” the bridgeman said softly. “Brightlord Renarin insisted on going to help. Sir, we tried hard to dissuade him. Then, when he got near and summoned his Blade, he just kind of . . . stood there. We got him away, sir, but he’s been sitting on that rock ever since.”

[...]

“I just stood there,” Renarin said. “I wasn’t frozen because of my . . . ailment. I’m just a coward.”

When Adolin hears about Renarin freezing up he assumes that he had a fit. Renarin corrects him on this, once he’s verbal again, but says that he was just a coward.

He froze up once he summoned his Blade. Because it would have started screaming in his head and this was overwhelming. When other Radiants have experienced this on-screen the screaming has been so intense they immediately dropped or dismissed the Blade, unable to hold it.

From this, I infer that Renarin believes everyone experiences this when they fight with a Shardblade. He doesn’t realise that it’s strange for him because he’s a Radiant. He thinks everyone experiences it, but they push through and overcome it. He can’t, and instead of thinking something strange is going on, he assumes that it’s a weakness of his and that he’s a coward.

This is a fairly common autistic experience. Why can’t you just get over this? Why is that overwhelming you? Just ignore the sound. Just ignore the lights. Stop being so weak/oversensitive.

That’s what Renarin thinks is happening. That’s why he doesn’t examine his experiences more closely, and realise he’s a Radiant. He thinks it’s part of him being autistic, and that he’s just being overly sensitive, until Glys is able to communicate with him and explain he’s a Truthwatcher.

The Rhyshadium Don’t Fit

“They don’t fit, you know.”

“Don’t fit?”

“Ryshadium have stone hooves,” Renarin said, “stronger than ordinary horses’. Never need to be shod.”

“And that makes them not fit? I’d say that makes them fit better.…” Adolin eyed Renarin. “You mean ordinary horses, don’t you?”

Renarin blushed, then nodded. (Oathbringer)

This, for me, is one of the most direct and obvious parallel between Renarin’s experience as an autistic man, and his experience as a Radiant.

Firstly, he comments on the Rhyshadium ‘not fitting’ with ordinary horses. They’re different. They have different hooves, which means they never need to be shod, like regular horses. In this case, being shod is something all horses do. It’s something natural for them, and the Rhyshadium not having it makes them stand out. This is similar to Renarin’s experience in society and in life.

The Rhyshadium are sometimes called ‘the third shard’ - they’re tied to the Radiants and to Stormlight. Renarin aligning himself with them, and his not fittng with them not fitting, mirrors his being Radiant stopping him from fitting in as he wants to.

A big part of his arc is his desire to fit in somewhere. His integration with Bridge Four is a huge boost to his confidence. He asks to join them to try and find somewhere to belong. The bridgemen are outcasts. They’re people who don’t fit in society, either, for various different reasons. Renarin fits with them, therefore, because he doesn’t fit elsewhere.

When he starts becoming a Radiant, and a different type of Radiant to the others, he starts to worry again. He worries that, yet again, he’s different for reasons he cannot control, and he’s worried the bridgemen will abandon or reject him as has happened frequently in noble society.

“So why are you embarrassed?”

“I’m … not?”

Adolin gave him a flat stare.

Renarin dismissed the Blade. “I simply … Adolin, I was starting to fit in. With Bridge Four, with being a Shardbearer. Now, I’m in the darkness again. Father expects me to be a Radiant, so I can help him unite the world. But how am I supposed to learn?”

Adolin scratched his chin with his good hand. “Huh. I assumed that it just kind of came to you. It hasn’t?”

“Some has. But it … frightens me, Adolin.” He held up his hand, and it started to glow, wisps of Stormlight trailing off it, like smoke from a fire. “What if I hurt someone, or ruin things?”

The conversation continues, and further solidifies the connection between the Rhyshadium not fitting with other horses, and Renarin not fitting in with other people.

He had become a Shardbearer, and was starting to fight and do what an Alethi man is expected to do in society. Go to war with Shards, with glory, etc etc etc. That didn’t quite work out.

For Renarin, whenever he gets closer to assimilating with the standard society and expectations, something happens to stop him. Initially it’s his epilepsy. He has fits, and his chronic illness makes him generally weaker and more frail, meaning that he can’t fight.

Once he’s given Shards to help mitigate those factors, he can’t use the Shards because his Radiant bond makes them scream inside his head. Again stopping him from fighting and becoming a soldier.

He then goes on to tell Adolin that he doesn’t really know how to Radiant. And Adolin says that he thought it would just come to him/he would instinctively know, but he doesn’t.

This is, again, a very classic autism thing. We struggle with doing things that allistic people find instinctive, and don’t need to be actively taught - such as reading and projecting the correct body language.

Adolin, who takes very naturally to all this stuff, just assumes that Renarin’s Radianting would just come to him, and Renarin has to explain that actually no, it hasn’t. This literally cannot get any clearer in forging an obvious link between his autism and his Radiant abilities.

Renarin’s ‘Corrupted’ Bond:

“What’s wrong with me?” Renarin asked. “Why do I see these things? I thought I was doing something right, with Glys, but somehow it’s all wrong.…” (Oathbringer)

[...]

“Does it strike you as cruel of fate, Father? My blood sickness gets healed, so I can finally be a soldier like I always wanted. But that same healing has given me another kind of fit. More dangerous than the other by far.” (Rhythm of War)

[...]

Lopen called out, asking Renarin to “look into the future and find out if I beat Huio at cards tomorrow.” It seemed a little crass to Dalinar, bringing up his son’s strange disorder, but Renarin took it with a chuckle.

[...]

It would be so much easier if he were like other Radiants. (RoW)

[...]

“And a blackness interfering, marring the beauty of the window. Like a sickness infecting both of you, at the edges.”

“Curious,” Dalinar said, looking where Renarin had pointed, though he’d see only empty air. “I wonder if we’ll ever know what that represents.”

“Oh, that one’s easy, Father,” Renarin said. “That’s me.”

“Renarin, I don’t think you should see yourself as—”

“You needn’t try to protect my ego, Father. When Glys and I bonded, we became … something new. We see the future. At first I was confused at my place—but I’ve come to understand. What I see interferes with Odium’s ability. Because I can see possibilities of the future, my knowledge changes what I will do. Therefore, his ability to see my future is obscured. Anyone close to me is difficult for him to read.”

“I find that comforting,” Dalinar said, putting his arm around Renarin’s shoulders. “Whatever you are, son, it’s a blessing. You might be a different kind of Radiant, but you’re Radiant all the same. You shouldn’t feel you need to hide this or your spren.”

Renarin ducked his head, embarrassed. His father knew not to touch him too quickly, too unexpectedly, so it wasn’t the arm around his shoulders. It was just that … well, Dalinar was so accustomed to being able to do whatever he wanted. He had written a storming book.

Renarin held no illusions that he would be similarly accepted. He and his father might be of similar rank, from the same family, but Renarin had never been able to navigate society like Dalinar did. True, his father at times “navigated” society like a chull marching through a crowd, but people got out of the way all the same.

Not for Renarin. The people of both Alethkar and Azir had thousands of years training them to fear and condemn anyone who claimed to be able to see the future. They weren’t going to put that aside easily, and particularly not for Renarin. (RoW)

Sorry for the quote barrage, but there was really no other way to do this, and I think it makes a nice little arc in how Renarin sees himself and his bond to Glys and, by extension, his autism.

In the temple, with Jasnah, he considers it to be something wrong. He’d thought he was finally fitting in, being like everyone else, doing something “right” but it turns out his bond is of Odium, and while he thought he fit with the others, he doesn’t. Again.

The RoW segments are what’s most interesting to me, because what we see here, I think, is Dalinar experiencing Renarin’s ‘disorder’ as he calls it and processing it/coming to terms with it in a way a lot of parents approach their kids’ autism. But this is a bit more approachable/less painful to look at because he’s considering him being a weird glowing power ranger, and not an autistic kid. Easier to examine more honestly.

So first of all Renarin, again, calls a direct link between his bond and his autism. The ‘healing’ that came with his bond gave him another kind of otherness. Another way he can’t be a soldier - which, for Renarin, in Alethi society, means him being like everyone else. I was going to go into this more here but this thing is already long as fuck, but in a nutshell being a soldier is Renarin’s dream because that’s him being “normal” and being like everyone else, which fate always conspires to stop him from being.

In Alethi society the peak of masculinity and of fitting in to the social order, which revolves around war and glory and battle courage blah blah blah - is being a soldier and fighting. Which Renarin has never been able to do. Which his father has always wanted him to do - wihich Renarin knows.

A lot of allistic people, especially allistic parents, think their autistic kids won’t pick up on their blatant ‘oh my god I wish my kid was normal’ vibes. They do. BELIEVE ME they do. This is a good little nod to that. Dalinar has never outright looked at Renarin and said ‘I want you to be a soldier to be worthy of my love and respect’ but it’s what Renarin grew up knowing and seeing from him.

The evolution of that through exploring Dalinar’s attitude to Renarin being bonded with an Odium-aligned spren is...Utterly fascinating, to say the least.

Here, for example, Dalinar sees it as a “strange disorder”. When Renarin calls a spade a spade and just goes ‘yeah no that weird thing right there that makes you comfortable? That’s me, buddy, get used to it’. Which is just. Absolutely effervescent. There’s a big instinct allistic people have to dance around autistic people. So many innuendos. So many fluffy phrase that I hate. “On the spectrum.” “On the autism spectrum”. “Differently abled” “Sees the world differently.” Just call me autistic and let me move on with life I do not have time to deal with your internalised issues.

He kind of comes around on it and gives him the whole “you might be a different Radiant but you’re still a Radiant to me, son”. Replace the word Radiant here with person and you’ll have a conversation I’ve experienced so many times. “Just because you’re a weird person doesn’t mean you’re not still a person!” Why thank you for pointing that out. I hadn’t noticed....Thank you for validating my humanity to my face?? As though I needed you to do that?

Contrast this with Renarin’s cheerful acceptance (ABSOLUTELY STUNNING DEVELOPMENT, HELL YES) - ‘yeah no that weird thing right there is me’. I cheered, dear reader, I CHEERED. It’s a little thing but it’s also a very very big thing.

So is Lopen making light of things - in a way that laughs with Renarin and not at him - wanting him to predict the outcome of his card game. Renarin laughs at this, and is obviously comfortable with the jokes and the camaraderie. Dalinar winces at this and thinks that it shouldn’t be made fun of this way, that it’s crass or wrong, Renarin has a disorder, it makes him weird and delicate, people shouldn’t joke around him with that, it’s not right. But Renarin is comfortable with it, and the Bridgemen are comfortable with him, which Dalinar obviously isn’t - though I get that he’s trying to go there.

Then, again, we draw a very direct parallel between Renarin’s Radiant experience othering him socially and autism othering a person socially. Absolutely exquisitely done mister sando, very nice indeed.

Renarin notes that there are ways to go through society. It’s nice to be like Dalinar and have the clout to buck the expectations, and not do what you’re supposed to, and still get away with it. Isn’t that nice? Bitch wrote and published a book and he’s still seen as masculine and worthy of respect and being yielded too.

Remember that Renarin can read and write as well - he learned so he could interpret his visions. But he hasn’t shared that with people. Because he knows that it won’t be accepted the way Dalinar was.

Sanderson sets up this idea rather nicely in Oathbringer, actually, with the scribes meeting.

Renarin glanced at his father. Dalinar responded with a raised fist.

He came so Renarin wouldn’t feel awkward, Shallan realized. It can’t be improper or feminine for the prince to be here if the storming Blackthorn decides to attend.

This part has always made my heart happy. Because it’s not just about Dalinar validating Renarin’s societally ‘feminine’ tendencies - which he gets subtly bullied/mocked for during that meeting by one of the other women in attendance. It’s about all of his differences, it’s about Dalinar validating his autistic experience as well, and helping to fit him in to a society that continually rejects and ousts him.

This idea evolves through RoW, however, with Renarin understanding that Dalinar can do things that he won’t be allowed to get away with. Dalinar isn’t so much breaking down barriers with Oathbringer as he is stomping through them because he has enough social privilege to do so, for the most part, unscathed.

Renarin keeps his reading a secret because, even after what Dalinar has done, it’s not going to change things for most men, and certainly not him.

Renarin has learned, throughout his life, that him being different is not going to break down any barriers. People are not going to change their world, or their worldview, for him and his differences. He knows that he has to adapt, and he knows that he won’t be afforded the same luxuries as others.

He’s more comfortable with this now. He’s learning to be himself, and learning that the world won’t fit itself to him, he just has to do what he’s going to do anyway, and find the places where he fits, rather than trying to change the ones where he doesn’t. It’s actually a really beautiful little arc, and I’m strongly tempted to look at it in more depth at some point. Renarin and Dalinar’s dynamic is actually incredibly deep, layerd, and complex, and it’s something I’ve been meaning to look at for a while. HOWEVER. NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR THAT.

TL;DR: Renarin’s Radiant experience is a direct allegory and parallel to his autistic experience. This is explored and made blatant by canon repeatedly, throughout the series, and Renarin’s experience as a Radiant is clearly a vessel by which Sanderson intends to explore his autism. Stop erasing and ignoring this when you talk about Renarin and analyse his arc. His autism is as intrinsic to this as it is to identity. It’s part of him. Stop erasing it.

I’m not saying you can’t find parallels or comfort in Renarin’s arc as a queer person. I’m just saying you cannot look at it in isolation. As though the text is ONLY making a parallel between his queer identity and his bond. Because it’s very fucking blatantly not. His autism is obviously and canonically tied to his Radiant bond and this is something that MUST be noted whenever you talk about this aspect of Renarin’s character.

Note: if anyone has any questions or comments on this, I am happy to engage and to clarify what I meant/add further detail and supporting evidence for various different aspects. There’s only so much I can cover in one post! For my sanity as well as yours...But there’s absolutely more, and I’m happy to look at that as well.

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steveyockey · 3 years

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do you think that -- if they WERE planning to do gay angel press initially -- part of the reason they didn't might have been the (reactionary) bury your gays backlash from fans and non-fans? in which case. twitter rly does ruin everything. :/

I’m not tied to this but here’s a hypothetical to work through that at least provides a theory on the lack of gay angel press (probably not very different from any other theory on this website but just writing it out for continuity),

okay. pre-pandemic. the arc of the final few episodes seems to have been set and 15.18 was the last piece, pending jensen’s approval. roadhouse heaven ending was a go — presumably featuring a cas cameo among other various and sundry friends. approving 15.18 introduces a problem by way of the fact that cas has just confessed his undying love for dean and there’s an expected response. but it’s fine! you don’t actually need that, you’ve been baiting fans for a decade, you can work your magic one more time with a lil wink and nudge and never have to deal with that again. ambiguous “to each his own” ending, you talk up the gay angel on one side and the bronly-ness of the last hunt on the other; everyone walks away happy. you have successfully threaded the needle of finishing off a twelve year queerbait without “caving to the fans,” high fives all around.

15.18 gets filmed. the angel is gay gay. the footage is. we don’t know what the footage looks like. there could be anything. maybe there’s a kiss with tongue. ends up not really mattering because the pandemic happens and they have to stop shooting and stop airing. no idea how much changes in 15.19 (clearly SOME stuff considering we know the folks who got chuck snapped in the silo were supposed to be shown back in the flesh and that got cut). 15.20 has to change — so roadhouse heaven becomes three person heaven (plus the cast and crew, who were already on set so no, this is not proof they could have brought a crowd of actors anyway, it’s just. weird. I don’t like this decision. strikes me as authoritative like WE told the story not YOU. anyway). putting cas in three person heaven makes winking and nudging a lot harder to do and would make the absence of an actual substantive response to the confession uhhhh very obvious. so you have to cut cas. and then maybe you have to cut other references to cas in 15.19, maybe you cut some emotionality from dean’s side in 15.18, maybe you straight up insert the moment in 15.20 where dean tells sam to stop being an eeyore about cas’s death! we don’t know how much was changed, but there was at least the opportunity at this point to dull dean’s response to the whole thing so the absence of cas in heaven is more palatable. it’s the bronly ending, but you already gave the audience the gay angel. and the gay angel is alive and building heaven with his son! no more cashing in on the queerbait but still cashing in on canon gay.

it’s november 5th. 15.18 airs. it trends higher than the biggest election “of our lives.” holy shit! gay angel! but of course the issue is the people responding aren’t the people who have been watching the show. they don’t have context for what’s going on and “turbohell” catches on. fuck. did you kill the gay angel? of course not, he’s in heaven with his son! lisa berry can post her goodbye instagram to her character because obviously billie’s dead, she’s the villain. she’s not expected to come back. but cas is... cas is different. and he’s not dead and you won’t be taking any questions on this until we get to the end, when everyone can settle down. so you have your actors gush about the episode, you leave everyone on pins and needles so they’ll come back for two more, and then! well. 15.20. cas is “alive” technically. dean is dead, as you always planned. some people are happy, some people are middling, and some people are fucking pissed at you because apparently by not outright killing off the gay angel you promised them the gay angel was coming back. any clarification you would offer here would unspool your entire plan — gay angel on one side, brothers on the other. erasing cas isn’t the same as killing him, but you can’t say that (though misha basically did in response to the rogue translator shenanigans). killing dean wasn’t even supposed to be about cas, but now everything is about cas. you took him out of the story completely and he’s still managed to take over. and all you can say is, well, it’s always been a story about brothers.

this obviously doesn’t account for everything, such as what the fuck was uriel’s actor doing? why the fuck did the show actually give us the instructions for how to get someone out of the empty and not do it? and there’s an infinite number of things that could have happened that I would simply never guess not knowing specific onset dynamics and money decisions. whatever happened that caused this clusterfuck really does suck for everyone in that writers room who was on team gay angel because, as I have said in the past, 15.18 only works due to at least four years, if not seven or more, of consciously writing the angel as gay. I hope bobo and yockey and even misha feel personal satisfaction at a job well done, but god if a single fucking interview could at least let us indulge in the victory with them. anyway, all of this is to say, yes I do think the bury-your-gays of it all definitely plays into it (and I would say, again, linking this to it chapter 2, it’s significant muschietti and co decided to make richie gay over eddie; people who haven’t read the book might not know that eddie like. literally drinks mineral water. in the 80s. he wears gucci loafers. he marries a carbon copy of his mother. stephen king would never admit to writing a gay man but that was a gay man. but eddie dies! eddie always dies. so they had some good sense in giving the gay story to the one who lives and leaving the dead one holding all the coding). and I definitely think randos on twitter making fun of the confession did not help matters. but I also think the decision to pull press cannot be extricated from the rubble of the last two episodes and everything they promised but never delivered. literally a single second of cas in the finale would have been their golden ticket! that’s far more than what jj did for star wars! but they got played at their own game by, of all things, an international pandemic. somehow a very supernatural ending after all.

#anon #answered #did I answer the question? you decide!#spn

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blackenedwhite97 · 3 years

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Coming Out [Poly! Erasermic x {Fem}Reader]

Hello! this was a requested fic from like before Christmas. I'M A MESS I KNOW I'M SORRY! I’ll be catching up at some point, I'm in my final sem at uni and have MAJOR senioritis. Me no do unless me have to. Instead, now I just spend my time staring at the existential abyss the threatens to swallow my ceiling and think about everything I'm procrastinating. But I digress...

Content Warning: This story is of a negative experience coming out as poly to your family, this deals with rejection from the reader's mother, father, and a grandparent. This story demonstrates Homophobia, xenophobia, traditionalist and conservative values and attitudes and may be triggering to some folks.

This story includes a Polyamorous relationship

Polyamory: the practice of engaging in multiple sexual relationships with the consent of all the people involved.

Word Count: 3.7 K (A baby story)

Y/N --- 4:06pm

Hey can my roomates come to dinner?

DAD --- 4:06

You mean the gays?

Y/M --- 4:08

Please don’t call them that. Neither of them are gay anyways, there’s more than just gay or straight.

DAD --- 4:10

Yeah whatever. Let your mom decide.

MOM --- 5:12

Sure, they can come.

Mom --- 5:23

Gma might be coming dinner tho. Maybe talk to them?

That conversation should have been enough of a warning for how the evening was going to transpire. At news of your grandmother attending dinner, you panicked and tried to back out of your plans. You had been growing steadily farther apart from your parents anyways, barely seeing them more that once a year if that. It’s not like they didn’t have their suspicions anyways, to them you were a single woman living in the big city sharing an apartment with two gay men. Not that they’d ever been to the apartment. If they had they might have notice that one of the two “bedrooms” was being used as an office. Earlier on in the relationship you were so deeply uncomfortable being around your parents alone, that you had Shouta come with you every visit because you were so paranoid you were just going to come out on the spot.

At first your parents were sure that you and Shouta were together. He had subconsciously cleaned up quite nice the first few times he met your parents anyways, wanting to make a good impression on them if you finally did tell them about your polyamorous relationship. Then as time went on you got busier and started to see them less. Shouta’s parents lived in the suburbs and you saw them on holidays, plus Shouta had come out to them as being bisexual a long time ago and hadn’t felt much pressure to hide the polyamorous nature of your relationship to begin with. Hizashi’s mom was still a city dweller in her 60’s and on top of doing the cute mom things like baking fantastic cookies and handing down family jewelry to the daughter in law, she’d also taken Hizashi and Shouta to their first pride in Tokyo and had an in-home recording studio where she recorded for local punk bands. She was, quite literally, a cool mom.

You gnawed vigorously at your thumbnail, not quiet biting the whole way through, instead riddling it with dents and cracks. Chewing your nails wasn’t a habit you’d always had, it became a sort of silent worry thing you started to do when you got to your agency and had to remain still and quiet during briefings, no matter how terrible the news was. Your ruined nail beds were an atrocity to Hizashi, who had paid several times for you to get a manicure to get your nails short and evenly trimmed so you could manage them on your own. You still somehow found a way to gnaw on the short squared off nubs of your nails though, and it drove him nuts. Shouta cared less, his hands were in ridiculous shape, he was callused and bruised, cracked and flaking all over the place and Hizashi would regularly force moisturizer on them. Shouta cared more about figure out the root stress, it’s not that Hizashi didn’t, he just didn’t know how to, so he settled for pampering you.

“It’s dead.” Hizashi huffed from the bedroom door. “Obliterated, actually.”

“Hmm?” You looked up from your phone, you hadn’t been reading any of the messages in the chat for a good few minutes and just let your eyes unfocus instead. You yanked your thumb from your mouth and hid it below the table like a child caught with a sweet they’d snuck from the kitchen before dinner, you knew he saw.

“Your nail.” Hizashi gently patted the end of his hair with his special fluffy towel that he’d convinced you and Shouta he needed to control his frizz (which he didn’t have) and padded towards the kitchen table where you sat. He placed a kiss on the top of your head as he strode around you.

“What’s up, love?” he murmured softly, leaning against the table next you. One of his legs propped up on the chair to your right and leaned down to look at your phone screen.

“This is going to go horribly.” You breathed, panicked as you set your phone down on the table.

“You don’t know that.” Hizashi looked back up at you and smiled sweetly.

“Not everyone’s mom is a cool rocker lady in her 60’s who lives in the heart of downtown still and is fully supportive of her child’s bisexual polyamorous relationship with their childhood best friend and an ex-small-town girl with an ultra-conservative family.” You huffed out in one long breath.

“That was oddly specific.” He chuckled softly. “What about Sho’s parents, they’re conservative?”

“Yeah, but his parents are at least polite and send us both Christmas gifts every year and keep any and all of their shittier opinions to themselves because they want their son to be happy.” You groaned dramatically, dropping your head onto his thigh, using the extra meat to muffle the noise.

“Y-your-” Hizashi’s leg twitched from the vibrations of your groan. “Your parents want you to be happy too, Y/n.”

You groaned into his thigh, trying to explain the difference between your parent’s and Shouta’s. Hizashi laughed and gently grabbed the side of your face, lifting it so you were no longer muffled by his leg.

“Try again.” He instructed.

“They only want me to be happy if it fits into their rigid frame of what acceptable happiness looks like.” You explained again.

“Hey,” Hizashi ran his thumb back and forth across your cheek, “have faith, baby. They’re your family, they love you.”

If only he’d been right.

Shouta was the know it all, the one that way always right. Hizashi on the other hand was quiet used to being the one that was not always right, he had no hubris about his intelligence what-so-ever. So much so that sometimes you and Shouta had to remind him that he was intelligent and offered a lot of knowledge and wisdom in many many ways: public speaking, social relationships, radio scripting, he spoke two languages fluently as well. However, this one-time Hizashi wished dearly that he had been right, that he was an insufferable know it all who never got it wrong. It was a different twisted feeling in his gut, sitting the back seat watching you try to keep it together in the front seat, than the usual mild embarrassment that faded after a couple of minutes when he was wrong about something. That was damn near luxurious compared to the painful knot tearing into his stomach.

The silence in the car was so dense and absolute that it almost physically gagged Hizashi and Shouta, the two of them were too afraid to say anything and break it. It felt as though the heavy silence was keeping you from breaking, as if it were applying enough pressure at all sides to keep the thin veneer of composure you were managing together. You felt it too, along with the heavy weight that was nearly crushing your chest, the thick doughy lump clogging your throat and the tremble in your lips. You took a deep breath, it getting caught halfway and freezing in to an unrealized sob that you pushed down.

Shouta huffed and pulled off to the side of the dark country road, slowing into the gravelly shoulder. He turned in his seat to face you, undoing his seat belt so he could fully turn his body. You kept your eyes out the window, trying with all your might not to let the tears that clouded your eyes to fall. You knew you’d need to cry about this, about your parents and their conditional love. You knew that this was something you would need to deal with, but you didn’t want to at this moment. You wanted to go home, take some sleeping medication and go to sleep, you wanted to wait until the open wound in your chest had stopped bleeding to begin treating it.

Your father was being facetious about your living arrangement as usual, whenever he was faced with Shouta and Hizashi his first reaction was to constantly point out that fact that you were a woman living with two men and that if they weren’t gay that one of them should have married you by now. Shouta and Hizashi had taken these comments like water rolling off of a duck’s back, Hizashi even grinned and mumbled something about your father tempting him. You could have kept your mouth shut, you could have kept your cool but Shouta’s hand was brushing against your thigh and you felt it tense into an annoyed fist. Something about Shouta’s minimal reaction lit a fire in you, more like an explosion. It was a surge of very sudden and very ferocious courage that lasted a split second and no longer. You’d practically shouted it, the ringing in your ears drowning whatever words you’d used out.

You were met with complete and utter silence, shock and fear thick in the air. You’d almost believed for a moment that you hadn’t done it, that you’d just shouted randomly and just scared everyone. But then your dad stood up, his shocked open mouth flattening out into a hard straight line, this jaw swelling as he clenched it.

“W-what?” he growled, stepping back from the table as if you were a threat.

You were ready to backtrack, you were so ready to just laugh and pretend you were fucking with him. But you spared a glance to Shouta and Hizashi, their faces pale and guilty. They, regardless of what you could say in an attempt to cover up what you’d just said, were basically admitting to it already. You instinctively shrunk back into your chair like you’d do when you were younger at the dinner table whenever something uncomfortable would come up. You could tell everyone was at a loss for words, the difference was that you were scared and at a loss for words, Shouta and Hizashi were shocked and at a loss for words and your father was steaming angry and at a loss for words.

Your mother, who had always been the least confrontational of the two turned away from you and almost in a show of disgust immediately went to comfort your grandmother. It was as if you were an afront to goodness, an act of moral atrocity being committed in front of them. Your father began to barrage you with passive aggressive questions and accusations towards Shouta and Hizashi. He was trying to understand while at the same time refusing to give you a chance to explain. You stopped listening after the first few sentences that came out of his mouth, falling back into an internal monologue filled with regret. He must have said something exceptionally terrible because in an instant Shouta was standing, his arm reaching out to separate you from him and he was shouting. Shouta never shouted, he barely voiced any form of annoyance or frustration in general when it wasn’t a learning moment for his students, but here he was on his feet volleying harsh word with your father.

Hizashi, you realized was attempting damage control, his hands raised and his voice lower than either of the other two men’s. You blinked back into the present, as noise filled your ears, you mother was crying, your father and Shouta were shouting and Hizashi was rambling panicked. You took a couple of deep breaths and stood up on shaky legs, gripping Shouta’s protective arm for support, and looked your father in the eyes. He faltered at the direct eye contact and you saw an opening where there was less shouting to contend with.

“Stop,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “this is why I never wanted to tell you! Why I was perfectly okay with living away from you guys for the rest- This is why I haven’t been home.”

Your mother gasped a ragged, tear-filled breath. She’d expressed before that she’d wished she could see you more often, that she’s noticed you’d been coming home less and less. You’d been good at covering it up, saying you were busy with work and simply couldn’t get the time off. You knew that what you’d just said hurt her, not in the way it should have. It hurt her because you’d just told them it was their fault that you felt unwelcomed here and not because you were afraid of your own parents.

“How long?” she breathed.

“Three years.” You sniffed, hand tightening around Shouta’s wrist.

“THREE?! THR-” your father bellowed in disbelief. “For three years they’ve been brainwashing and forcing themselves on you?!”

Suddenly you understood why Shouta had leapt up, you had just now caught up with the conversation. Red hot anger flared up in your chest, the mere insinuation that you were being forced in anyway to be with your partners filled you with utter rage.

“No!” You growled, for the first time in your life matching your father’s volume. “For three years they’ve been by my side, showing up at the hospital when I got hurt at work, celebrating my promotions at the agency, helping me make a home that I feel safe in and actually fucking caring about me!”

There was silence again, this one was thin but not light in anyway, like it was a delicate thread barely holding a great weight from falling and crushing you.

“We care for you.” You mother said darkly.

“No,” you swallowed hard, “you haven’t for a long time.”

“Get out.” You father growled.

Hizashi was already moving, grabbing your coats from the back of the chairs and pulling Shouta by the arm away from the table. It took you a good long second to move, even then it was because Shouta latched onto your shoulders and Hizashi tugged him along.

“I’m sorry.” Shouta whispered, his hand finding yours in your lap. You kept your eyes focused out the window at the pitch-black fields with barely visible for off golden dots of light. You couldn’t talk.

You heard Hizashi shuffling around in the back seat, scooting closer to you and his hand joined Shouta’s, pulling up onto the storage compartment between the seats. It was cracking, that veneer.

“It’s not your fault.” Hizashi murmured.

You sniffed hard, biting int you bottom lip. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that your parents didn’t accept you, that you weren’t good enough or right for them, that you weren’t on par with the apparent morality of the rest of the family. It wasn’t your fault that they were backwards people with terrible ideas of how a person should be. It still didn’t hurt any less that you couldn’t meet those backwards ideals, that you couldn’t be the right kind of person for them.

“Y/n,” Shouta whispered, gently grabbing your chin and turning your face towards them.

They were looking at you the way a mother looks at her crying baby in the first few months, the desperate need to connect and nurture glowing in their eyes. They were filled with worry, with pity, with understanding but also, with fear. No doubt, what had just happened had been traumatic for them too. Looking into their emotion filled eyes you felt that veneer shatter, falling away and unleashing that mournful sobbing that had been trapped inside.

Shouta pulled you towards him, holding you firmly to his chest placing his head atop yours. You vaguely felt Hizashi disappear from you for a moment, but you were too preoccupied with the trembling muscles seizing violently in your chest. Then you felt him sliding in behind you, only now realizing he’d stepped out of the car and slide in through your door as he shut it behind him. He draped himself over you rubbing circles into your back.

“It’s not your fault.” He murmured into your hair over and over again.

At first you didn’t really focus on it, thinking it idle words of comfort but the more he said the more it sunk in. The more your realized that you were holding onto the hope that there was something about this, about you, that you could fix. With every repetition of those four words that false hope chipped away and that heavy weight in your chest began to fall away. It was still painful, it still felt like you had a pen festering wound that you’d never fully heal from, but it also felt lighter. It felt as though a burden you’d believed was yours to bear was suddenly the responsibility of the many.

“You don’t have to change,” Shouta whispered softly as your sobs ebbed into weak beaths, “they do.”

That reignited some tears, to hear what you needed to said so plainly. Shouta was good at that, putting those intangible thoughts and feelings into plain words. You cried until the tears and the worry and the late hour caught up with you, until your head felt heavy and waterlogged and you slumped backwards into Hizashi sniffing. You cried until your wavering breaths evened out and your tired mind fell to silence. Hizashi pulled you into his lap and cradled you against him like a parent holding and oversized child, running his hand slowly through your hair.

When you awoke you were swaddled thoroughly with the fuzzy blanket from the couch Shouta hated because it shed and sandwiched between the two men who snored away. As you blinked in the early morning light that just barely peaked through the blinds you noticed the red rims around Hizashi’s eyes and deep-set circles under Shouta’s as if they both been awake all night. Shouta was still in his dress shirt and Hizashi had stripped down to his boxers and pulled his hair back into a sloppy bun. Neither were properly snoring which told they hadn’t been asleep for very long.

You tried to ignore what had happened last night, what had led to the heavy feeling in your head and crusty dry eyes and tight cheeks. You tried to pretend that they had stayed up for work, that they you had swaddled yourself up in the blanket nor because you were sad but because you just wanted to be cozy. Then you heard a phone vibrate on the nightstand and any and all work towards denial washed away as you dreaded checking it. It could just be a work thing, it could be Hizashi’s phone even though he’d never had it on silent even once since you’ve known him. It could have been Shouta’s vibrating against the wooden table even though you could see his slightly peeking out of his back pocket.

You sighed and sat up, daring the smallest of glances at the nightstand. It was your phone screen that was lit up, several notifications on the screen. You groaned and laid back down, scrunching your eyes shut begging for sleep to suddenly and miraculously take you. It buzzed again and you huffed. Fine. You’ll check it. I guess someone could be dying. I do stop that from happening for a living.

You very cautiously crawled over Hizashi and reached to get your phone, electing not to look at it until you settled back between your boys. You scrolled though your notifications, weather, news, a work email, a second email from a contact that made your blood run cold and three missed calls and two answering machine messages from the same contact. Grandma. Your hands trembled at you unlocked your phone and typed int your voicemail password. You held the phone up to you ear and listen to the first message which was more or less just some frustrated grandma noises and mumbles about the inconvenience of technology, followed briefly by a set of hellos. If you hadn’t been ready to shit yourself, you’d have laughed. Then the second played and you had to take a deep breath to hold yourself together enough to keep listening.

“Hello? Hello? Y/n? Oh shi- well this is just ridiculous. Y/n, I don’t know if you can hear me, or maybe this is your answering machine, I don’t know I can’t hear too well but-” her soft worn voice said into the phone, “I want you to know that I love you. Your parents love you too, even if they did not act like it tonight.”

She paused and your eyes welled up with tears, a lump forming in your throat. It was this strange feeling of pure sadness but also happiness and relief.

“Those boys,” she continued, “probably would have killed your father last night if they had the chance. I’m not saying I get it, but they sure do love you, sweetheart. I quite like the blond one he is very-”

The message cut off and the automated voice asked you what you wanted to do with the message. All you could do was laugh, laugh and cry. You were still sad, still in pain, but it was already starting to feel less life-ending.

“Hey,” Shouta mumbled blearily, “S’okay. I’m here.”

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, trying to pull himself from sleep. You hugged him back and massaged the back of his scalp gently.

“Listen to this.” You sniffed.

He nodded and you pressed repeat, listening to the whole second message through again. You watched as a smile spread across his sleepy lips and he laughed softly. He pouted suddenly when it ended, his eyebrows pulling together as much as his drowsy state would let them.

“What?” you asked, worried he’d heard something you‘d missed.

“Why does she like Zash more?” he grumbled, barely awake now.

You smiled and curled into him, electing not to answer knowing that he wouldn’t like being told that Hizashi is more sociable than him. Besides, you smiled to yourself, he’d be asleep in a matter of seconds.

You were still hurt; you still had that big open wound in your chest. But with Shouta and Hizashi at your side you knew you’d heal; you knew they’d give you anything you needed. You knew that your grandmother was right, that these two boys loved you very much.

#polyerasermic #eraserhead #erasermic #erasermic x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #present mic x aizawa #eraserhead x reader x present mic #eraserhead x reader #reader insert #bnha #mha #myhero #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha fanfiction #y/n x mha #y/n x bnha

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Text

I’ve been seeing an uptick in “anti-RWDE” posts lately — which is a phenomenon I’d like to comment on at a later date — but for now one of them (quite unintentionally) made me realize something about the finale that I haven’t seen others discuss yet.

So RWBYJNOR saves everyone, right? Let’s just put aside the animation for a moment — which didn’t show any army members making it out — as well as the forgotten side characters — Maria, Pietro, Qrow’s group isn’t forgotten, but still left behind — and take things on good faith here. We’ll read the finale through the thematic intention: RWBYJNOR saved “everyone” in the Kingdom of Atlas in Volume 8, deliberately contrasting them with Ironwood who was willing to sacrifice a chunk of the Kingdom in Volume 7. Forget all the messiness and just accept that regardless of the consequences — like a destroyed Kingdom and a “dead” team — the heroes are heroic because they didn’t give into a “lesser evil” thinking and managed to save everyone.

Now, how was that possible?

Let’s go back to the beginning of the seventh episode of Volume 8, “War.” Salem’s grimm have just burrowed through Atlas’ defenses and taken them out. The shields are gone. She flies Monstra into the fields and releases an army of darkness that immediately heads for the city. What’s the very first thing Ironwood does?

Soldier: Yes, sir?

Ironwood: I am evacuating all citizens to the subway. Prepare Manta Squad Omega, and dispatch to every part of Atlas.

Soldier: But sir-

Ironwood: Now!

He evacuates the people, with “the people” meaning all the Atlesians and however many Mantle folk got to the city prior to Salem’s arrival. When this episode aired I mentioned being confused as to why the soldier was so hesitant. Why wouldn’t you want the people to get to safety when a grimm army is heading their way? Fans against Ironwood took the soldier’s side, claiming that Mountain Glenn proved that any underground evacuation is a death sentence and thus he obviously doesn’t really care about the peoples’ safety. Fans in support of/neutral towards Ironwood pointed out that this is a pretty big leap, no one is coming up with a better idea for what he should do instead, and that within these circumstances it reads like the soldiers is illogically against this idea simply because everyone is against Ironwood now. The show wants characters criticizing his decisions and making him out to look like a crazed dictator... even during moments when it doesn’t make any sense to be upset with him. Shooting the councilman yes, trying to keep the people safe no. Basically, this small exchange was a mess, but the rest of the volume proved that this was a sound call. The subway never collapsed and no grimm ever made it to that enclosed space to pick the civilians off like fish in an underground barrel.

So, why didn’t that happen? Well, one answer is because Oscar and Ozpin destroyed the whale. But how did they have time to do that? Without the people dying while they were being tortured, talking to Hazel, escaping with Emerald, fighting Salem, etc.? A lot happened between Salem starting her attack and Oscar ending it, so why wasn’t 2/3rds of the Kingdom’s population decimated during that time?

Because Ironwood sent his army out to keep the grimm occupied.

Outside of Ironwood’s cartoon villain actions — random murders and bomb threats — which get the most attention due to how deliberately, over-the-top horrific they are, these are the two actions that get the most negative attention from both the story and the fanbase. The soldier seems horrified by the order to evacuate. Marrow is devastated that young adults are fighting in this battle. The fandom is disgusted by both aspects of Ironwood’s character: giving orders that, as general, he expects to be obeyed and having an army that follows those orders. Putting side that cartoon villainy, this is what supposedly makes Ironwood the antagonist here. These are the qualities that have existed since Volume 2, resulting in a “he was always a bad guy” interpretation. These are the qualities that have resulted in anyone who likes his character being labeled as a “bootlicker.” We know these qualities make the fandom hate him because otherwise, more people would be confused as to why a presumably heroic character randomly shot Oscar. Orders, armies, and general military associations are at the heart of Ironwood’s presumed villainy.

So let’s remove them.

Ironwood has no evil army. Ironwood gives no evil orders. Power and control lies solely in the hands of our non-military heroes. Everything is better!

...well, no. Because we saw in Volume 8 precisely the choices our heroes made when the attack started: half of them focused on saving a single individual (Oscar) and the other half kept to the sidelines. At no point did our RWB group act after sending the message and prior to securing the Staff. AKA, during the attack of Salem’s army. We got a very explicit moment in which Ruby looked out the window at the battle going on and turned away from it, continuing to discuss ethics instead of joining the fight. The people of Atlas (which, again, includes many Mantle citizens) had no one but Ironwood and his army because a third of the group was trying to rescue Oscar (they never even had a plan to blow up Monstra — that was also Ironwood), a third of the group was up in Amity, and a third was sitting in the mansion. They did nothing to help the people of Atlas being attacked by grimm.

Thus, if you remove Ironwood’s actions, everything goes to hell. There is no longer an order to evacuate to the subway. Maybe some people go there anyway. Most probably don’t. They run in a panic wherever they can. Hide wherever they can. Go back home for some semblance of safety.

There’s no longer an army. Either it doesn’t exist because we’ve determined it’s simplistically bad despite RWBY’s grimm-specific context, or Ironwood likewise never gives the order to protect Atlas’ border. Salem’s army moves unimpeded through the city, killing countless people as it goes. How do we know? Because they’re civilians who can’t defend themselves and there’s literally no one else to help. Remember: Ironwood is not giving orders, there is no army, RWB is in the mansion, YJOR is in the whale, Penny is out of commission, the Happy Huntresses are in Mantle. Those in Atlas are entirely alone. In time, Oscar destroys the whale, but by then it’s too late. There’s no concrete way to theorize how many have died, but it’s inevitably a lot. Everyone else is scatted across the city, trying to survive.

So this scene

no longer exists.

When the group gets the Staff and creates portals for “everyone” to escape through, Mantle is ready to go. They’ve gotten everyone into the crater and can funnel them straight to Vacuo. Atlas, however, is in chaos. When Jaune enters the subway there’s only a few people there, many of which may be wounded or dying. He’s right back where he started, in Mantle at the beginning of Volume 8: needing to go door-to-door to find where people have hidden themselves, trying to convince them all to follow him (remember Oscar commenting to Ozpin about how difficult that was?). Except now, he and Nora are the only ones trying to get people to safey, the city is filled with far more grimm, a significant amount of time has passed for people to be killed or injured (making evacuating them even harder, both due to injuries and an unwillingness to leave hurt/dead/missing loved ones behind), he’s trying to convince these panicking people to go through magic portals, not just walk to a crater, and he’s aware that there’s a very short time limit for this task.

Jaune returns in a panic of his own, explaining how difficult it will be to get that 2/3rds of the Kingdom to Vacuo. How many are already dead. Barricaded. Missing. Closeup on Ruby looking horrified, but then she rallies. They can do it. Atlas is falling, but residual dust gives them just enough time to find, calm, and evacuate those people. They’re heroes after all. Beating the odds is what they do.

Then Cinder attacks.

Suddenly, the group can’t evacuate people because they’re trying to keep themselves safe from her. Maybe Cinder gets the powers because Jaune was off looking for civilians, leaving Penny without a mercy kill. Maybe Nora dies because she’s still trying to help people on the city that plows into the one below. Regardless of how details might change, they’re not getting a spread out, decimated population through those portals before Cinder changes the wish and makes them disappear.

In this version, the story starts with Ironwood wanting to sacrifice 1/3rd of the population to save 2/3rds and the future of the war. It ends with 2/3rds of the population dying instead.

This is what I mean when I say the majority of the fandom wants to view a very complex situation through a ridiculously simple lens. The fandom wants to denounce every bit of RWBY’s fictionalized military, the context issues of that aside. The story wants to paint RWBYJNOR as the only heroes, in part because they succeeded in saving everyone (“everyone”) in the Kingdom when Ironwood gave up.

But they only managed to save everyone because of Ironwood. Because he kept fighting for his people to the bitter end. This is why, though his horrific actions obviously exist in the story, they make no sense (he’ll threaten to kill his people so he can... save his people?) and mess up what little is working in the finale. The story wants us to celebrate the group for evacuating Mantle and Atlas, but the Atlas evacuation would not have happened if not for Ironwood’s actions — the actions that are ignored in favor of having Winter blame him for everything and then killing him off. The rescue of “everyone” was very much a joint effort. RWBYJNOR’s win is not actually a contrast to Ironwood’s intended sacrifice, for the simple reason that their win depended entirely on Ironwood’s actions.

If we’re going to celebrate the group getting everyone to safety, we should probably also celebrate the guy who got them all to an easy evacuation point and ensured they weren’t eaten before then. Does that mean Ironwood never did anything wrong? Of course not. As established, the story went out of its way to make him into a villain. Rather, it means that other parts of the story failed to maintain that black and white view, complicating the heroism of RWBYJNOR in the process. If we want Ironwood to be incapable of heroic action, always the bad guy, nothing good to say about him whatsoever... then we likewise need to accept that the group is rather unheroic in many regards too. That, on their own, they would have failed to save everyone, just as Ironwood’s plan failed to save everyone at the end of Volume 7. Because they chose their friend over a kingdom. Because they sat around in a mansion. Because by the time they took action again and tried to escape, without Ironwood’s help they would have lost a larger majority than they originally insisted be saved.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

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kittydeany77 · 2 years

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My Heart I Surrender

Dean Winchester x reader

Chapter 4

You spent the next few weeks trying to settle into a routine inside Alexandria. The mornings were spent getting ready for the day and checking with Diana if she needed anything done. In the afternoon you’d get a break for lunch and doing as you pleased, which meant hanging out with Dean. He was usually helping folks around the community, or working in the garage.

One night he took you into the garage to show you his project and you were taken by surprise. Sitting in the middle of the room was a ‘67 Chevy Impala, sleek black, and beautiful. Dean said it wasn’t running and it’s too loud for this new world but he wanted to keep it forever. In the evenings, you’d make dinner and usually go for a walk afterwards. The late evening times were up in the air, sometimes you sat on the patio and other times went straight to bed.

“You know something, I’m surprised I havnt had to deal with the psychological damage from that incident last month.” Dean and you were eating some canned soup out on the patio tonight.

“Well maybe you’re brain is still in shock? You’ve been good at keeping yourself busy since then so maybe you havnt let your brain have time to think about it. If it does ever start to affect you, please let me know.” He sat his empty bowl down and put his arm around you.

“I will. What do you want to do tonight? Looks like the clouds are in thick and it smells like it could rain soon.”

“Maybe a puzzle? I think i saw one of those 500 piece ones on the bookshelf, and the dining table is big enough.”

“That sounds great.” You sighed contently as you thought about this moment. Safe in a community with walls and the only danger being people who try to get in, or getting killed while on supply runs.

Ahhh!

Someone screamed in the distance and you froze. Was fate playing a trick on you? Simply because you just thought about how safe you were?

“Get inside, lock the doors. I will go check it out. Make sure your gun is loaded and ready. Keep all the lights off. Got it?” Dean and you ran inside to grab weapons and lock all the doors.

“Yeah i will be okay here, but i wish you wouldnt go.”

“I have to, there’s not many here who can fight well but i know i can.” Dean gave you a quick kiss and took off through the front door. You watched him run down the street for a moment before locking the door and turning all the lights off. You chose to lock up in the master bedroom because technically you could have that light on and no one would know, if you needed to.

Dean was taking ages to get back and you didn’t like being in the dark, literally and figuratively. Who was screaming? Why? Did someone get in? Is dean ok? Is everyone else okay? The thoughts raced around your mind until you heard loud pounding on the front door. Dean!

Gun loaded and in your hands ready for firing, you went down to the front door cautiously. Hoping it was Dean, but preparing for the worst. When you got to the front door you said to whoever was out there one word, “rooftop.”

“The little shack outside the bookstore town where we first kissed and i woke up the next morning to you quietly reading Little Women.”

“Dean!” You excitedly opened the door to let him inside and was so glad this safety idea of his worked so far.

“Good job sweetheart, i knew you would remember to check if it was me.”

“So what was it? Is everyone okay?” Dean locked the door and went to the kitchen, with you following right behind.

“The supply runners are back and Anna’s boyfriend died out there. It was her heart breaking scream we heard. …Diana wants her on suicide watch…” His face was stone still, just staring towards you.

“Oh my gosh! That’s so horrible. Do you really think shes so broken she would do that?” You sat on the stool at the island and just looked at your hands.

“I dont know really, but these folks arent too familiar with what its like out there so they still react and think like before. Diana said its normal for some people to go that far.” Both of you sat silently for a moment before Dean spoke up again.

“Theres one more thing, no ones seen or heard from Eric or Aaron and they were due back last week. From the area they were scouting, the supply runners shouldve come across at least the marks we leave but nothing was there. Obviously we cant hear from them unless theyre nearby and send a distress call or one of them comes back. Its a damn mess right now.” He deeply sighed and kicked back against the cabinet in anger. “Son of a bitch!” He leaned onto the island, head hung low and hands gripped tightly.

This side of Dean you don’t see very often, at least during the months you’ve known him. “Im so sorry Dean.”

Dean stood up and stormed off into the garage and slammed the door behind him. You knew he wasnt mad at you, just the situation happening. He needed some time to cool off and think and it’s not like you could do anything for him. It would be hard to sleep right now though, so you decided to go into the extra bedroom you kept a few things in.

This bedroom was smaller but still quite big. Everything in these houses seemed to be huge. It had a small guest bed, dresser, and a desk. You mostly utilized the desk for reading and drawing. The desk was in front of the window and had a view of the tower outside the walls. Sometimes you would practice sketching it to get back into the practice. Before the world became apocalyptic, you were an art student. You missed having a sketchbook and pencil at your fingertips and you decided to take advantage of this place.

Time was lost as you immersed yourself into the sketchbook and eventually your eyes started to droop as you felt tired. You closed the sketchbook and put it back in the bottom drawer where you kept it and turned the lights off in the room. Dean mustve still been in the garage? Time to check on him.

There was no noise coming from the garage through the door but you slowly opened it anyway. It was lit up and you saw him sitting inside the Impala drivers seat. He didnt see you since the car faced the large lift up garage door. Dean had been alone long enough, so you brought it upon yourself to sit on the passenger side with him.

Dean looked over at you once the door was closed and you found a comfortable sitting position to face him.

“I’m sorry for getting angry.” His eyes cast down at the seat and wouldnt look back up at you.

“Its okay, i understand, you needed some space. You didnt hurt me, i just went to the office and sketched a bit. I just wanted to come down and check on you, make sure youre okay.” You rested a hand on top of his and gently rubbed your thumb across his hand.

“It doesn’t happen a lot here, losing people, but when it happens its really hard on the community. Im just tired of losing people.” He finally looked up at you and his eyes were red from crying earlier, and was in need of some rest.

“I know Dean, i get it. Why dont we head upstairs and lay down. We need to try and sleep, if we dont rest we cant help tomorrow. The community will need us. Come on, please?”

“Okay sweetheart, lets go.”

———

Flashback

“Oh Dean look!” You pointed towards a sign that said Lake 2 Miles Ahead. “Please can we stop for a break there?”

“I dont see why not, hopefully its just us there.” Dean smirked over at you and it made you blush.

As you pulled up to the lake, you saw how vast it was. There were multiple open covered picnic areas and lots of large trees to sit underneath. So far no signs of other people or even walkers. The lake was calm and glistening from the sun. It was a rather hot day so all you could think of was taking a swim in the cool water.

“Race you to the water!” Once Dean parked the car, you jumped out and raced to the water.

“Hey! Thats cheating!” Dean quickly shut the car off and got out to chase after you. Once at the waters edge you started to discard shoes and clothes.

“Come on slow poke!” You shouted as you quickly took off your shorts and shirt, leaving you in just a sports bra and underwear.

Dean skidded to a stop, jaw practically dragging on the ground and he stood speechless watching you go towards the water in almost no clothing. His heart felt like it would burst from his chest he was so anxious right now.

“Y/N, sweetheart, you’re a cheater.” Dean slowly came back to his senses and started to strip down to his boxers. His face was flushed red and luckily he could use the sun as an excuse.

You waded in the water and turned to look back at Dean, he was walking over to you in just his boxers and the butterflies in your stomach started a storm in you. The way his muscles flexed and his boxers hid nothing, it was enough to make you melt in cold water.

“Come and catch me…” a challenge was the best way to get over your nerves and you dove into the water to swim away from Dean.

“Oh no you dont!” Dean quickly raced to the deeper water and swam after you. You both splashed at each other and couldnt stop laughing at all the attempts of cat and mouse chase.

Eventually, Dean dove underwater and you werent sure where he was, so you tread the water in circles. Out of nowhere, Dean came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your stomach. “Got ya! Haha!” You started to kick and scream all while laughing, to try and escape his clutches.

“Ah! Haha! Dean let go! Dean that tickles!” After a few moments you got turned around in his arms and you wrapped yours around his neck as he slid his hands to the small of your back.

“This is really nice, to have a break like this.”

“Lets enjoy it while it lasts.” Dean slowly leaned in to kiss you and this lit your core up like fireworks were being lit off.

You’d just realized you were both practically naked in each others arms and making out. Instantly you felt nervous and excited all at once. Dean Winchester was here with you and no threats around, it really was the perfect day.

———

Midday sun shone through the window when you blinked your eyes awake. Dean had his arms wrapped around you and was snoring softly by your ear. It had to be at least half way through the day, considering how late you both went to bed. You turned over to face Dean and softly kissed his cheek. He rustled around a little but didnt fully wake up. Another kiss to his cheek, and still he didnt wake. This time a kiss to his lips with a little nibble on the bottom one, and suddenly the man woke up. His hands dug into your back and pulled you closer to him for a deep kiss.

“Good morning beautiful.” Dean finally let go of you for some air.

“It might not be morning anymore, but its still good anyway.” One more quick kiss to his lips and then you went to leave the comfort of his arms. Dean of course protested with a childish pout on his lips, but let you go. He watched you dig through the dresser for some pants and a shirt while he stretched his body to help wake himself up.

“We should go check in with Diana and see how the towns doing.”

“Yeah, you’re right on that. I will grab some clothes and meet you downstairs.” Dean was still sitting in the bed when you walked out of the room and you knew why- he had a hardened friend to be rid of. Even after months of being together, you hadn’t hit home run with Dean. Lots of kissing and making out, sleeping next to each other and even some light tease touching, but never having sex.

You heard Dean coming down the stairs and went to greet him by the front door, “ready? I grabbed us a couple granola bars and apples for our walk over.”

“Sounds great, but i really need coffee.” Dean ripped into his granola bar and stuffed the wrapper in his pocket.

“I know what you mean, i was privileged with my iced caramel macchiato drinks long ago.” Your granola bar was already gone by the time you were on the sidewalk outside your house. “Does anyone make coffee here?”

“Yeah i think so, when its found on supply runs. I stopped drinking it due to going on those runs so much. Although, now I’m on sabbatical from runs per Diana so maybe we can ask the pantry if they have some for us.”

“That would be awesome, but I’m sure they dont have macchiato machines, ha!” As you walked down the path, Dean reached for your hand and linked your fingers together. He was determined to show how much he cared for you any and all times of the day. Neither of you knew when it would be your last moment together, but you hoped it was far in the future.

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aerltarg · 3 years

Note

Maybe this is a stupid question, buuuuut:

I just can't imagine a world that Rhaegar comes back from the Trident, wins the war and becomes king. No, I'm not a anti Rhaegar, matter of fact I like him very much, I'm just can imagine how would Lya, little Jon, this whole affair, would settle in the capital. The norm that fics (at least those I read) tend to follow is to make Rhaegar:

1. A douche, paranoid and destiny-obessed king.

2. Completely incompetent, aloof monarch, that deep down has a heart of gold, but can't really be understood.

I mean, isn't he supposed to be a scholar since he was a kid? What's are your thoughts about it?

oh, yeah, i can totally understand this! it's is the whole point in canon actually, "the wrong man came back from the trident". you would expect a hero win against his antagonist and have a happy ending w his lady love but it doesn't happen. instead the subversion happens to them with rhaegar being killed by robert who becomes obviously a shitty king and lyanna dying after him. they were never supposed to have happy ending, they were created as tragic and doomed and dead from the beginning for the whole plot to start, jon to have his parentage mystery and dany to take the passed baton as the last dragon, prophesied savoir and the heir who has to carry entire house on her back now.

as for the realistic rhaegar wins aus that's the difficult question. tbh we just don't know enough abt their situation, plans and wishes. you see, e.g. in agot we can be right in ned's head and see his motivations, what he was thinking abt, what he was planning, what he was hoping to do. but if his story was told the way rhaegar's was i bet he would have his own crowd of haters and ~intellectuals~ jumping out every two seconds w their "hot takes" how actually all hints abt what rlly happened (ned being a good man w his own sense of honour, justice and experiences affecting him and the deal w cersei's children) doesn't matter and he was an ambitious prick, planned to grasp the power by being joffrey's regent and make his daughter sansa queen. (you can actually insert there any bullshit and still don't reach the level of stupidity of such "hot takes" this fandom loves so much lmao). also he would be blamed to the hell and beyond for being too stupid and not foreseeing the future and actions of other ppl bc ofc after everything happened it's so easy to say what was so obvious to notice. also they would say that the deaths of his men and horrible fates of his kids are 100% his fault and even straight up say he killed them lmao. i can rant abt it for hours so yeah. this is a situation w too many unknown variables bc it depends too much on actions of too many characters we don't know enough abt. the only thing it's possible to tell for sure is the fact that there couldn't be any perfect solutions since things got too complicated at this point.

such fics as you've mentioned tho are just a part of this dumb fanon where rhaegar is "too prophecy obsessed"/"incapable of love"/shrodinger's rhaegar both smart and stupid at the same time/whatever/all of this combined lmfao. the man was notably intelligent from the early age as you've absolutely rightly mentioned, his guesses abt himself being tptwp have nothing to do w egocentrism as some parts of the fandom would want us all to believe unless he wouldn't be so reasonable abt it and later on, after so many years, wouldn't have changed his mind and thought his son could be tptwp.

and literally fuck all antis that think you shouldn't consider prophecies that hold real power in this fantasy world lol. you know, aegon the conqueror was said to be motivated (or at least partly) to unify westeros by the prophecy and still got the treatment of perfect/maximum close to perfect figure of a leader everyone should look up to from the narrative and grrm. prophecy obsessed much, huh? i don't even talk abt all these parallels between him and rhaegar grrm put there not for bitches to ignore them completely! and i will never get tired of reminding that dismissing prophecies is UNWISE for targaryens of all people. the house whose story is built on the dream of young daenys and her father aenar that listened to her despite common sense (or what local "anti magic"/"anti prophecies" clowns consider to be common sense). targs would be as dead as the rest of dragonlords if not for daenys the dreamer. who else in the world has as many reasons to take prophecies seriously as them?

yet antis out there act as if rhaegar is one dimensional weirdo whose every character trait is abt mf ~prophecy obsession~. like how can they miss one of the main points so badly?? the game of thrones distracts ppl from the real danger beyond the wall, yk, the one rhaegar was aware of and meant to deal with. there wouldn't be such a problem if he became king and had as many years of head start before ice zombies apocalypse as ignorant bobby b did. rhaegar had to die just for westeros to sink in shit and our main heroes to save everyone to make this story more epic LMAO

so yeah, too many ppl portray rhaegar as this one dimensional robotic creature without any knowledge of what feelings are idk even for what reason. it seems these ppl can't read for real bc rhaegar was not only intelligent af as well as dutiful ("it seems i must be a warrior" but "he loved his harp more than his lance") but also. ugh emotional?? my boy had constant emo sessions w brooding at ruins of summerhall, sleeping out there beneath the stars all alone and writing songs that made all women cry. does it sound as someone who "isn't capable of love" lol? folks act as if he was completely heartless from the day he was born (bc he didnt play w other kids ig??) but in reality their emotional range is less than the one of a spoon in comparison to rhaegar's lol. i'm not even gonna address the horrible attitude of demonizing him for his implied depression, vile clowns never listen to themselves when they talk abt targaryens and their "madness".

tldr; these fics are mostly lame af and suck at characterization if they're making rhaegar like that lol. anyway his character isn't abt being a good or a bad king, it's abt being a would-be-king for characters in books and readers in reality to sigh over his tragic aura and pretty aesthetic abt how it could've been. however, grrm clearly doesn't write rhaegar as evil or incapable as some parts of the fandom would want to try to persuade others. realistically speaking in the scenario where he wins there couldn't be any perfect decisions but it's a territory of speculations on thin air and lit nothing more since canon doesn't provide us with enough information to rlly theorize anything instead of building biased headcanons some ppl call "analysis".

but remember what barristan said about rhaegar while practically watching him all his life, from a literal baby to the man grown:

“I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded.” (ASOS, Daenerys I)

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.” (ASOS, Daenerys IV)

#thank you for the ask!!!#hope it didnt get too long and rambly afshsjsjs #once started talking its hard to shut up 😂#and im sorry for any possible mistakes #.txt #rhaegar targaryen #targnation #mypost #fandom wank #anti antis #majorton #*answered #asks

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wind0wg0blin · 4 years

Text

Wolf Predator x Reader

Gender Neutral Reader

You accidentally befriend Wolf. An AvP Requiem Fix it fic if you will.

Also I didn’t beta read this & I wrote it on my phone so like, if theres a bunch of issues you know why lmao

It had almost been a full week since you had been kicked out of your house. You had decided to come clean to your parents about how you truly felt and the things you had been doing and they did not take too kindly to this. Being far from the perfect Christian child they wanted they simply threw you out with only the clothes on your back and the things in your pockets.

You had been lucky enough to couch surf at some friends houses for the first few nights but now your luck had run out. Now you found yourself trudging through the sewer system in one of the larger tunnels that ran under the city. You had gotten a tip that a group of homeless people often stayed down here during the colder nights and if you wanted any long term chance of living on the streets you would need to get in with them.

You had little more than the light from your lighter to illuminate your path. The already pitch black darkness only seemed more menacing with each scuffle coming from within it. You knew better than to be put off though. As nothing down here could truly hurt you. Or at least, this is what you thought.

The tunnel you had been traveling through eventually came to an end. Opening into a rotunda, where multiple tunnels came to an intersection. You were still a few meters away from the true end of the tunnel when you heard strange inhuman sounds. Then came the gunfire and screams.

You couldn't help the startled jump as you drove down trying to hunker against the side of the tunnel. You could see the large silhouettes of some creatures ahead of you. It was clear that they were fighting. It was also clear that one was losing.

Massive black snake like monsters swarmed after a more humanoid but still oddly reptilian creature. It was outfitted in some kind of armor that seemed to be doing little good as one of the black serpents sunk its teeth into his leg. You wanted to look away, you wanted to turn and run. Yet something in you compelled you to stay, it made you want to help your fellow underdog.

Crouching, you rushed forward to the edge of the tunnel following the pathway to stay out of the sewage. A piece of copper piping was laying propped up against the flooring of the sewer. The perfect way for you to make a distraction.

Your plan was to get the attention of the monsters saving the other and allowing them to escape possibly killing you in the process. But in the end you would rather die knowing you saved another life than to not try at all.

Taking the pipe in both hands you slammed it into the metal wall beside you. The reverberating Tang was more than enough to garner their interest but not their attention as the largest of the serpents continued its assault on the now struggling humanoid.

Without thinking you blindly charged forward and brought the pipe down as hard as you could on the serpents back hearing a satisfying crack as it hissed in pain turning now to face you. You acted on instinct as you turned your grip and swung the pipe like a bat striking the monster across the face knocking it away from you. The other smaller monsters that had been lurking in the shadows watching you took this opportunity to lunge.

Dropping to your knees in the filthy sewage you braced the pipe against the floor and using the creature's own momentum against it. It leaped directly onto you and appropriately directly onto the tapered end of the pipe driving it into its chest. Green blood leaked out from the wound as the pipe hissed and you stumbled back as it ate through it like acid and finally cracked.

Just as you fumbled to get away from the dying serpent. The other smaller one darted out to attack you from behind. You had no idea this was even happening until you saw a ball of white hot energy fly past you and incinerate the creature.

You couldn't help your ragged breath as you looked back to the humanoid. The largest of the monsters had vanished during your fight most likely fleeing back to the surface. Leaving you and the reptilian humanoid remaining. They stood before you now and in the moonlight you could make out their visage.

A large mask covered their face. They were gauntlets and some kind of full body fish netting. Multiple gadgets covered their wrist and belt. They easily towered over you. The emotionless eyes of the mask glaring down at you as you suddenly realized that this had been a very very stupid thing to do.

Your moment of terrified silence was broken when you heard distant screaming and the cries of that monster.

All in a moment an object was being thrust into your hands and you were pulled to your feet. As you looked down and processed that a much too large spear had been placed into your hand, the creature strode a few paces away from you before quite literally punching through the ground above you.

You stared in stunned horror for a moment before you watched the monster clamber out. When you slowly approached you could see that he was standing there looking back towards you expectantly.

You couldn't help but yelp as you were once again manhandled being hoisted up by your forearm.

Before you could even question what was happening your accidentally acquired partner was leading you away towards the town.

-----

You had been following Wolf, what you had nicknamed the lone hunter, all over town chasing down this alien as you have come to understand. Your chase has led you all over town and now finally to the hospital where it seemed to be making its final stand against the two of you. It had always managed to slip away at the last moment in your previous interactions though this time you were certain you would not allow it to escape.

As you made your way through the hospital you tried your best to ignore the trail of carnage that was left in its wake. Soon enough you found yourself outside on the rooftop of the hospital. You were surrounded by people from the town that had somehow found their way here as well as a swarm of aliens. You couldn't tell which was worse as stray gunfire threatened to off you just as much as the aliens stalking you in the shadows.

Wolf had the predalien busy for most of the fight as you and the other towns folk focused on picking off the rest of the swarm. Things eventually came to a head as the once formidable swarm of aliens now dwindled in number and the townsfolk were clambering into the helicopter as it prepared for take off. Wolf though was nowhere to be seen.

The only sign you had of his position was the deep roar that sounded out through the worsening rainfall. Stumbling over the slick roofing you forced yourself to move as fast as you could in the direction you heard the fighting. With the spear gripped tightly in your hand you could see just vaguely through the veil of rain that Wolf was pinned with his back to the wall.

Panicking you did the only thing you could think of in that split second. Smashing the blunt side of the spear against the exposed air conditioning unit you screamed out towards the predalien in a means to draw its attention towards you.

In all honesty, you had done this as a desperate attempt to draw it away from Wolf not expecting it to actually work. You felt your heart stutter in your chest as suddenly the predalien was charging at you roaring over the thunder of the storm. You screamed now this time in true terror as you threw the spear at it.

The spear sailed cleanly over its shoulder clattering somewhere beyond it as the predalien now leaped for you. With nowhere to run you ducked back and forced yourself between the air conditioning unit and the wall of the hospital. You were able to squeeze down just out of the predalien initially swipe as it now tore at the metal of the unit to get to you.

As you stared up at the hideous beast you honestly hoped this would not be the end of you. Everything had just seemed to be getting interesting for you.

Closing your eyes you held your breath as you prepared for pain as the top panel of the unit was torn away exposing you to the predalien. Though just as you feared your end was upon you it was the aliens screams that filled the air and not yours. You were yanked back as the aliens blood splattered the ground where you had stood moments before eating holes through the flooring.

The alien staggered a moment before collapsing into a pool of its own acidic blood. A spear protruding from the carapace of its skull. Wolf was standing behind you, his hand still firmly on your upper arm as he stared down at the body of the alien.

You felt as if you didn't have time to do so much as catch your breath. Wolf was already moving, ushering you to follow him as he pressed buttons on his wrist thingy. You all but ran after him, his strides normally dwarfing your own but now his hurried step left you behind.

You stopped and watched him feeling more than a little frustrated as to why now he had a sense of urgency. Wolf all but yanked his mask up off the floor before pointing at you forcefully and motioning hurriedly for you to follow.

Though obviously you were not moving fast enough for him as he doubled back and threw your soaking wet form over his shoulder. You feel like you didn't protest as much as you really should have as you watched Wolf take what looked to be a step straight off the edge of the building. Though instead of plummeting to your death, his feet found surface on something you just had yet to have seen.

Your eyes widened in shock as a spaceship materialized around you. Wolf dropped you down in a much too large chair as he sat down in a matching one to your left. The dash in front of you lit up in an array of switches, dials and buttons. Wolf hit something and suddenly the view of your hometown from the front window slipped away and transformed into the night sky. All in the matter of a night your life up until that point disappeared. Leading you to where you were now. Sitting in the pilot's chair of an alien spacecraft with an alien you accidentally befriended soaked to the bone.

So much for being the perfect Christian child huh?

If you enjoyed please leave a like and reblog! Thank you so much <3

#Wolf Predator #Predator #Yautja #Yautja x Reader #Yautja imagines #avprequiem #avpr #tw religious mention #long post #fix it fic #x reader #reader insert #Killer Queue

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gifted-burnout-archive · 3 years

Text

BLUE

Part Three

Day 23/93: Dallas, TX.

Word Count: 7.6K+

Author’s Note: it’s the third installment, and things might be heating up. song in this chapter is ‘Let’s Fall In Love For The Night’ by FINNEAS, it gives me such reggie vibes, and it’s most certainly a reggie x reader song. and if you are wondering why i know so much about dallas, texas and the surrounding area, it’s because i visited! it might be one of my favourite places on earth, and i felt required to include it in one of my stories at some point, so here you go.

Context: This is an AU of Julie and The Phantoms. Here, the boys are now alive again, aging alongside Julie and Y/N, and they are all now in their early twenties: Julie is 19/20, Y/N and the guys are 20/21. Same goes for Flynn and Carlos and Ray and all that jazz, basically everyone is older.

WARNING: abusive behaviours, drinking. Please see this post for more information.

If you are in need of help, please consider reaching out to domestic abuse hotlines in your country. This link leads to a wiki page with a few hotlines sorted by country. Remeber there are people who love you, and who support you.

part one is here - part two is here

“Where do I see myself in ten years?” Y/N echoed the question that had been asked of her as the team lounged around the front of the bus. From her spot atop one of the dining tables, sat crossed legged with her camera in hand, she had a view of her entire tour family: from Julie in the kitchenette with Alex, making Poptarts; to Flynn to her right, typing away frantically on her laptop. Luke was the one who asked her the question, sat across from her and throwing an unsolved rubix cube up into the air, and to his right sat Reggie, tucked in the booth seat corner scribbling away at his notebook, a smile on his face that had Y/N warm at the sight. “I asked you a far easier question, Patterson.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. I mean, I can tell you where I’ll be, where the guys and Julie will be. I can guess at Flynn but it depends whether she plucks up the nerve to ask out Carrie or not-” Luke was interrupted by his own chuckle, a reaction to Flynn flipping him off without looking away from her laptop screen. “But you? I don’t know.” He shrugged, catching the rubix a final time before pushing it over the table to Reggie. The dark-haired boy glanced up for a moment, looking Y/N over as she held up her camera and snapped a picture of him.

“Actually, I wanna know the same thing.” Reggie backed up his fellow bandmate, closing over his book and smiling at his friend when she rolled her eyes. “When you’re thirty, Y/N, where do you want to be?”

“Geographically? Emotionally? Ideally?” Y/N found herself avoiding the question because, quite honestly, she wasn’t sure how to answer. She hadn’t really thought what her future might hold, she hadn’t really had the chance to.

But being posed with the question, being asked for an answer, her lips started moving before her brain could register.

“Put me somewhere warm, and green: with enough money to be comfortable, enough friends to be sociable, enough booze to get drunk and enough beautiful things to take pictures of.” She offered, lifting her camera and snapping another picture as Reggie and Luke looked at her with soft smiles. “What about you, Reginald? Luke says he’s got you figured out.”

“I think what you’ve got going sounds pretty good, I might just join you.” Reggie smirked, only taking his eyes off of Y/N to glance over at Luke, the boy’s eyebrow raised and arms folded. “You know, in amongst the fifth album and rock star lifestyle.”

“Would that be the country album no-one expects?” Y/N asked with a grin, and Reggie’s eyes lit up.

“I mean, I’ll still learn fiddle if you’re up for it, Reggie.” Julie commented from the kitchen, returning from her snack making expedition with Alex in tow, the boy munching down on a Poptart like he’d never eat another: the boys had a tendency to eat like it was their last meal. “I mean, perfect place to start learning, Texas bound.” She added, cosying up against Luke, the pair sharing a kiss before she handed over the frosted sweet treat.

“Why didn’t we know you were from Texas?” Flynn questioned, her eyes finally leaving the computer screen to accept a snack Alex offered, who then grabbed another from the plate and handed it to the photographer sat on top of the table. “I mean, I found out from Y/N last week.”

“It never really came up.” Reggie shrugged, sitting up straight to make room for the blonde drummer, their bus taking a sharp turn. “I mean, I only lived here until I was ten: once my dad sold his company off we made the move to California as quickly as possible.” he explained, he and Y/N sharing a small smile.

Their night under the stars had bled into the early morning as they retold their lives to one another, making sure to cover almost every detail: Y/N didn’t mention Stephen, for more obvious reasons than either of them cared to admit. Reggie had told her all about growing up near Dallas, about learning to ride his pony Flash, about his parents thinking the move would fix their marriage, but how it ultimately didn’t. He. Of course, left out some key details too…

The last thing Y/N needed to know about was his dad’s violent fits or his mother’s excessive drinking.

“Glad to be back though… And since we have the whole afternoon and night to ourselves…” Reggie pointed to Flynn for confirmation, her nod causing attention to focus back on the bassist. “Flynn and I have a plan for the night.” Reggie beamed when Y/N clapped her hands in excitement, though his other bandmates looked a little sceptical. “I promise, it’s fun.”

“Reggie, your idea of fun before you met us,” Alex gestured between himself and Luke, who sat across from them, cuddled into Julie’s side. “Was shovelling horse shit at some dilapidated stables and pretending you were a cowboy.”

“Yeah, well, I was supervising.” Flynn sighed happily, closing over the laptop she hadn’t turned off in almost two days. The band wanted to get some recording done in Nashville later on the tour, a surprise they had all constructed for Reggie’s upcoming birthday, but a complication with bookings and the admin over in Tennessee had risked the possibility of it happening. Of course, Flynn hadn’t stopped emailing and calling until it was sorted. “It’s going to be an amazing night. With no horse shit involved, metaphorically and literally.”

“ETA, ten minutes from Dallas folks.” The radio crackled over the sound system, that had spent most of its time being used to play background music as they travelled, with Ronnie sharing their travel information quickly. “Paparazzi inbound, unfortunately.” He added, groans echoing around the cabin.

The last year in particular had been hounded by reporters and gossip columnists looking for the latest rumours to spread about the team. The lies ranged far and wide, from Luke and Julie breaking up to Alex cheating on Willie to them all being part of a cult to Reggie ‘notorious’ love life. The bassist was the last single one of the band, it only made sense that with their rise to fame came constant claims from anonymous girls that Reggie was their boyfriend, their husband, their baby daddy.

“Hotel security say they’ve got it under control, but I doubt it.” Ronnie added, and with that the six set into action to get ready for their swift departing from the bus. Poptarts were quickly eaten before everyone was back on their feet again: Luke and Julie taking on the pre-assigned role of collecting instruments together and packing them away for the moving crew, Alex rushing to his room to grab his last few necessaries that would live in his fanny pack for the next few hours, Flynn disappearing into the back to make one last phone call about interviews happening in Austin two days later with Rolling Stone, leaving Y/N and Reggie alone in the bus’s centre.

“You’ve been looking like Luke the past few days, Reginald.” Y/N spoke up first, slipping off the table and grabbing her camera bag from the overhead storage, beginning to dismantle her device as Reggie fiddled with the rubix cube Luke had left on the table. “Constantly scribbling… I haven’t seen you ever write as much as you have on the bus these past few weeks.” She remarked again, her hands methodical and practised in her work, quick to pack her camera up and close the casing.

“I found inspiration, what can I say?” Reggie said with a smirk, his fingers flicking the cube round and round with practically no effort, his eyes focused on Y/N instead of the colour puzzle before him. “Did you bring any hoodies with you?” He asked, suddenly changing the topic, and Y/N shook her head. She wasn’t really needing to: after all, their US tour was taking place in the summer, they had planned the route rather meticulously to miss the southern heat of July or the rains and wind chill that came to the north in April and May. Constantly travelling away from bad weather meant the need for anything warm had crossed Y/N’s mind, save for the occasional cardigan or blanket.

“Why would I need one?” She asked, walking towards the back of the bus with her equipment as her phone started to buzz in her back pocket. “Shit…”

“We don’t want the paparazzi seeing your face, do we?” Reggie questioned quickly. “Grab one from my room before we jump off.” He added as Y/N picked up the phone, mouthing a thank you as she answered and disappeared into the back of the bus, slipping into Reggie’s room to locate her disguise and shutting the door quickly.

“So we just don’t talk now, is that it?” The voice that came down the line was angrier than usual, and Y/N took her first chance that day to catch a glimpse of the time, Reggie’s bedside alarm clock reading 4.38 pm.

She had forgotten to call Stephen for the third time that week.

“Babe, babe I’m sorry. We were all just chatting and I got caught up in work and completely forgot.” She tried to explain quickly, her face falling when she heard a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Did… Did something happen at work?”

“I want to bring you home for a few days.” Stephen spoke up after a moment. “After Nashville. I know you guys are busy with the tour, but do you think you could talk with Flynn? Get someone to cover the Florida and Alabama gigs so we can maybe spend some time together?” His voice was sweet, sincere, and Y/N found herself smiling at the idea. Of course, it wouldn’t be great for the team, but would a few days really hurt?

“I, I think that would be a great idea, babe.” She answered as she opened up Reggie’s drawers, taking a moment to pick out her favourite on his hoodies, one with a rather terrible calculus joke printed on the back, and pulling it on over her travel clothes. By the sound of Reggie’s plans, she’d need to change for their events that night, but she had some clothes laid out in her own room, she could scoop them up and change in the hotel. “I’ll have to make sure with Flynn, it obviously depends on whether we can get one of the assistants to step up for a few days, helping with Julie’s make up and the guys’ clothes and such but-”

“You know Flynn will be alright with it, just say yes already.” Stephen chuckled on the other end of the line, and a part of Y/N wondered if she should just say yes without checking, if she should just this once not fight him on it. Stephen was always in the right on these things, she often challenged him regardless.

Unfortunately, she just couldn’t hold her tongue.

“Babe, that’s not how my job works.” She remarked, walking out Reggie’s room and back to her own with a smile to Alex as she passed by him sifting through some music sheets Y/N didn’t recognise, no doubt new stuff the boys and Julie had been writing. As the bus slowed down a little too suddenly, Y/N grabbed for stability on her wall, waiting to straighten herself back out and continue talking as she collected her necessary items for their evening in Dallas. “I do still need to book time off, to run through procedure with my temporary replacement, to plan ahead at least two weeks in case of an emergency, the whole team do. It’s a lot of work, and I’m happy to do it but-”

“Am I really the bad guy for wanting to bring you home for a few days? So we can sleep in our bed together, so we can see our families?” The heavy sigh from the start of the call came back. “Y/N, you’re acting like you don’t want to spend time with me anymore.”

“I do want to spend time with you, Stephen! You know I do!” Y/N promised it, almost pleading. “But this tour was always going to happen; I skipped out on the last tour to spend time together…” She reminded him. The fact that she had done so, missing on a West Coast trip for two weeks that she wanted to go on, that meant something to Stephen at the time. It was certainly a big decision for her to make, choosing her boyfriend over her friends, her best friends…

“You are coming home after Nashville, alright?!” Stephen snapped, and Y/N had to move the phone away from her ear to stop the harsh noise from echoing around her head. “You are my girlfriend, when I ask you to come home you do it. Or is everyone else in the entire world more important than me?” He asked.

“Of-of course not, baby… I’ll,” Y/N took a deep breath as the bus came to a halt, the sound of her friends outside her door forcing her to quickly roll up her clothes and stuff them into her handbag. “I’ll see you in Nashville, we’ll go home after, we will… I’ll be sure to sort it all out with Flynn and the team.” She conceded, the idea of a week off suddenly sounding like much more of a chore than it had a few minutes ago. “I love y-”

The phone hung up before she managed to finish the words, but a part of her was happy she didn’t have to say it.

“Y/N?” Julie’s voice accompanied a rapping on her bedroom door, Y/N quick to grab her things as it creaked open, the shorter girl looking back into the main area of the bus as she entered. “Are you ready to go?” She asked, stopping dead for a moment once she turned to face Y/N.

“What?” The photographer asked, trying to offset the tension created by Julie’s frown with a soft chuckle, but it did little to assist. Julie took a few paces forward, the girls toe to toe, and reached a hand up to wipe a tear from Y/N’s cheek she didn’t even notice was there.

“IS everything alright, Y/N? Did Stephen do something?” Julie asked with more seriousness than Y/N had heard from her in years: the girl was always playful in her tone, a fan of a joke, but this was new, intense, the concern almost scary.

“Everything’s fine. I had something in my eye.” Y/N lied, putting on her smile and giving a convincing enough performance that Julie seemed to let the subject go, the girl nodding and walking out of Y/N’s room, back to the band and Flynn, prompting Y/N to follow behind before she was left alone. She checked in the mirror to make sure her face was clear of signs of upset before joining the back of the queue.

That was too close for her liking.

“I knew you’d pick that one.” The voice was Reggie’s, a happy remark at her choice of camouflage as he let Julie and Luke pass by him, their four friends heading out into the chaos of camera flashes and loud voices badgering for gossip. Y/N froze a little at the noise, Reggie quick to notice and take her camera bag for her, his free hand offering itself to her. “Grab on, I’ll get you through without a scratch.” He said with that same charming smile she had always found so suiting for him.

“Promise you won’t lose me to the sea?” She asked, half-joking, half-serious. She had been lucky enough to miss most of the band’s brushes with paparazzi, or manage to slip by them without a second glance if she was with the crew: but she was on the bus this time, she was going to pass through them no matter what. It seemed to her better to do it with someone instead of alone.

“I promise.” Reggie recited back to her, and Y/N took his hand tight in her grasp as a response, the feeling sending tingles up Reggie’s arms that he did his best to stifle any physical reaction from. With that, and a shared nod, the pair started in a jog out the bus, into the mayhem.

Y/N hadn’t often thought about why she disliked her picture being taken: she wasn’t sure what it was that stopped her from being in front of the camera and instead behind it. And while the utter anarchy of flashes and incessant questioning weren’t the true cause of her strain of scopophobia, Y/N deemed them as reason enough to hate everything about being on camera.

It made her even more grateful to have gotten indoors, the few seconds of exposure from the bus door into the air conditioned hotel lobby feeling like years: gave her an overwhelming sense of relief, after changing into her outfit for the night, a rather lovely white lace dress and accompanying tennis shoes, to find their mode of transport for the evening in the hotel’s basement, an old blue Cadillac, a 62 series in fact, waiting with an attendant who promised any and all reporters had been cleared off.

The early May weather was ideal for the open topped car drive west from Dallas city centre, Y/N tucked into the front passenger seat as Reggie drove them, Flynn, Julie, Alex and Luke squeezed into the back of the car, singing along to the radio over the sound of the wind rushing past them. It was almost movie-like, ‘Amarillo´ blasting as they drove down the highway, Reggie glancing over at Y/N every once and a while to send a smile her way while he kept an easy control on the wheel, one arm holding the car straight while the other rested on the back of the bench seat, dressed like he belonged at the steering wheel with his black muscle tank on.

Despite the unsure waters she sat in with Stephen, Y/N found herself relaxing into her seat properly, with Reggie’s arm moving down to rest against her shoulder as they drove out of the city, here camera poised and capturing snapshots along the way.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Alex questioned from the back as they passed their second possible turn-off, the mounting suspense too much for the blonde to bear. He had come a long way with dealing with his anxiety, but not that far, and when Reggie and Flynn shared a glance, it seemed high time the truth was revealed about their activities for that night.

“So, obviously this is my home turf.” Reggie started off by saying, taking a moment to remove his arm from Y/N’s shoulder and indicate hi changing lanes before returning it to the preferred spot. “But one place I loved more than anywhere else in Texas is Fort Worth. It’s like, cowboy country.” He had the biggest smile on his face as he revealed their location, Y/N snapping a picture. “They have a stockyard and cattle parades and a cowboy museum and this huge maise maze. Of course, we can’t do all of it, I mean by the time we arrive half the places will have closed for the night, so I’ve compromised and with Flynn’s help, we have two stops tonight.” Reggie pulled off at the correct junction, speeding along the slip road towards Fort Worth.

“We’re going to a rodeo, and a honky tonk.” Flynn informed the group, the four friends without any previous knowledge of the evening’s plans sharing glances.

“Uh, that’s great… But what exactly is a honky tonk?” Luke asked on behalf of the group, the questioned directed at Flynn, but when she just shrugged, as oblivious as the others, all focus was on Reggie for an answer.

“It’s a massive music venue, actually this one is the world’s biggest. They’ve got them all over the south, mainly for country music. Huge dance floor, tons of seating: food, drink, pool. Billy Bob’s is the best, hands down: think of any big country artist, I can guarantee they’ve played there at some point.”

“Billy Ray?” Flynn asked first.

“Yep.”

“Willie Nelson?” Alex next.

“Like, a dozen times.”

“Dolly Parton?” Y/N asked next, Reggie nodding fast and smiling at her.

“We are headed to the home of country music history, folks.” He announced, followed by a whoop that had the whole car laughing away, all smiles and sincerity. There was nothing quite like seeing Reggie happy: he just turned into a sun, their sun, lighting up the entire space around them, his joy infectious and seeping into the cars around them.

The rest of the drive into Fort Worth went by as any car ride the six friends shared often did: with an excessive amount of singing, Alex complaining about Reggie’s speed on turns at least four times, and Luke giving Julie the same lovey dovey expression he had kept plastered on his face for her since high school. By the time they were pulling into parking lot nearest the rodeo, the sun was tickling the horizon, close to dusk, streetlights starting to flicker to life on the nearby streets.

One said streetlight sat right by the rodeo entrance, and under it stood a rather short lady waving enthusiastically at their car.

“I can’t decide whether she’s cute or crazy…” Flynn leaned forward and muttered in Y/N’s ear, causing the girl to try and stifle her giggle at the comment. The boys and Julie were first out of the car, Reggie taking the lead and getting to the woman waiting for them before Y/N had even had time to grab her camera bag, though the girl soon rushed over with Fynn to join the rest of the group.

“Uh, right! Guys, this is Naomi. She is a city coordinator, helps visitors like us feel at home. Naomi, this is Luke, Alex, and Julie, who you probably know of. That’s Flynn, our band manager, and Y/N here is our photographer slash make-up artist slash general beauty guru.” Reggie was quick to introduce, Naomi wasting no time in giving each member of the friendship circle a tight hug.

“Well, welcome y’all.” She said once she had let go of Julie, the last to embrace. “Now, the rodeo has another thirty or forty minutes until it starts, and I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you, Miss Molina?” Her accent was thick, the sort of deep south accent you might expect from the state, with the Texan twang that Y/N could sometimes slip into Reggie’s own cadence.

“Oh, right… I forgot to mention.” Flynn muttered, Julie glancing between her best friend and the older woman with raised eyebrows.

“Well, Julie, we were hoping you might do us the honour of singing the anthem tonight? When we heard Julie and the Phantoms would be visiting, well the whole council just knew we would have to give it a shot and ask.” Naomi explained with the sweetest smile and warmest eyes Y/N had ever seen: they were the sort of deep chocolate brown that, when the light caught them just right, turned into a sea of gold flecks over hazel iris. She lifted her camera, zooming in and capturing the woman’s side profile discreetly as Naomi awaited Julie’s answer.

“I’d love to.” Julie responded to the celebration of the council member before them, who let out a squeak of glee.

“Oh, thank you so much darlin’!” She exclaimed. “Now, the rest of y’all can go have a nose around the area, some of the stores around here might still be open, Cavender’s across the way will be. Get yourselves some souvenirs, some hats, try and blend in with the folk round here.” Naomi offered, and it seemed to be sound advice: for the people starting to arrive for the rodeo that night, almost all of them were wearing the signature cowboy hate one associated with Texas, matched with the boots and buckle belts. Naomi herself had a hat atop her black waves of hair. “I’ll take Miss Julie here in and set her up with her mic and all.” She explained, and with nods of agreement shared amongst the group, alongside a quick kiss between Julie and Luke, the lead singer disappeared into the building.

“You, me.” Flynn said, grabbing onto Y/N’s hand and starting a march around the corner towards the bright shine marking their clothing destination. “I can trust you to pick out the best accessories for everyone, Y/N, and I want some cowboy boots.” Her determination left Y/N’s happily helpless, following after her friend in search of head gear and footwear suitable to the region.

The boys wouldn’t have been too far behind them, the three walking in a lazy line towards the same destination, though their amble compared nothing to Flynn’s near sprint, each of the bandmate’s taking in the atmosphere of the place they had landed themselves in for the night, Reggie most of all. He grew up in the Lone Star state after all, and their walk along the side of the rodeo and the connected Billy Bob’s Honky Tonk brought back memories Reggie had forgotten after almost twenty years since his last visit.

He was reminded of the way everything smelled, of how the air tasted, of how the sound travelled from street to street. He recalled the old junctions, walking the memory alongside his younger self, found himself reminiscing about his fond childhood in the area before his parents’ marriage fell apart.

“You know…” Luke’s words broke Reggie from his day dreams, the guitarist walking backwards in front of Reggie and Alex, pulling his backpack around to the side of his body. “I was hoping you might spare me a minute to talk about your latest work, Casanova?” He continued, coming to a stop and prompting his confused bandmates to do the same, though the words quickly began to make sense when Luke revealed a black notebook from his bag.

A black notebook that wasn’t Luke’s own.

“Really, dude? Taking my shit off the bus?” Reggie reached out to retrieve the journal from Luke’s hands, but the guitarist held it back, opening to the bookmarked page and shaking his head as he read.

“Calm those horses, Reggie… This is really good.” Luke was often one to tease the bassist on his writing ability, Luke was definitely the stronger of the pair, but the compliment caught Reggie quite off-guard. Before he could refute the statement, Alex was by Luke’s side reading, mumbling the words as Luke’s sang out the chords Reggie had scribbled down.

“… That is really good… When did you write this?” Alex asked, looking up at the red cheeked raven-haired boy before him and Luke.

“I just… I was inspired, the touring life certainly helps when I need inspiration.” Reggie shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he did.

“Sure, it’s 100% not Y/N that’s got you writing love songs…” Luke teased a little more, Alex punching the boy’s exposed bicep in response. “Ow?” He questioned, but when Alex shrugged in response, the pair looked back at a now frowning Reggie. “Dude…”

“It’s just songs…” The bassist sighed, running a hand through his hair and glancing over towards the nearby store, making sure Y/N was nowhere in sight or earshot when he spoke up again. “Never going to perform them, am I? Not when she’s with him…”

“You say that like we prefer Stephen over you.” Alex snorted, and Reggie glanced up at him in confusion. “What? It’s pretty clear to me who Y/N should be with, think it’s pretty clear to everyone but Y/N who she should be with…” He muttered the last part, arms folding as his head ducked down. The words though, they gave Reggie a sliver of hope he hadn’t been offered before: he had thought his interest in Y/N delusional at best, psychotic and cruel at worst, but knowing his friends thought they were good together, that it wasn’t all in his head, made Reggie feel a little better about the love songs he had found himself writing in the weeks prior.

“What you guys talking about?” A call from across the road had the three boys pretending to act natural: Luke quickly shoving the songbook into his backpack while Alex and Reggie tried to seem innocent, like they weren’t just talking about the girl who had asked the question.

Of course, upon second glance, Reggie was left speechless anyway.

Y/N crossed the road with Flynn by her side, the pair accessorised like true Texans with hats and boots, armed with bags of attire for their friends, but Y/N was more than having fun: she looked absolutely beautiful. Her white sundress with its v neckline pulled taunt against her chest now she had added a brown leather belt to her look at her waist, her tennis shoes swapped for a pair of cowboy boots, a hat finishing the look. She presented herself as a local, and Reggie found himself trying not to gawk too much.

“We have hats to go around.” Flynn announced as they came withing twenty paces of the trio, pulling the first from her bag and tossing it towards Luke, who caught the thing with ease. Y/N passed one to Alex as she came to a stop, Flynn fishing a second from her bag and setting atop her own head.

“And for the homegrown.” Y/N handed over the bag in her hands to Reggie with a smile, watching with eager eyes as he lifted out a deep brown hat that fell somewhere between Wild West Sheriff and Indiana Jones, and a belt with ‘TEXAS’ engraved into the buckle. “Need to rep the home team, Reginald.” She added, clasping her hands in hope of a reaction. “You like it?”

“I love it…” Reggie whispered, nodding his head as he spoke, taking a few seconds to take in the items before putting the first on top of his head, a perfect fit, then standing up to loop the belt through the unused belt loops of his jeans, a silly grin on his face as he caught his reflection in a nearby window. While Alex, Luke and Flynn started their walk back to the rodeo venue, the latter armed with a hat for Julie as well, Y/N feel into place beside Reggie, she too admiring their reflection in the glass surface, taking the hat off her head for a moment to rest her cheek against Reggie’s shoulder.

“We look good, Reginald…”

“We sure do, Bug.”

Alcohol and unchecked emotions never really mix. After Julie’s performance, and then a night of Y/N hiding her eyes in Reggie arm as bull riders were bucked from the creatures, and using the complimentary liquor provided to take her mind off of her paranoia, heading over to Billy Bob’s next door shouldn’t have been on her cards. She was already buzzed; she should have taken up the offer from Naomi for a lift to the hotel…

But she didn’t want to miss Reggie.

The pair had been inseparable for the entire night, like they usually were on tour: except Y/N was drunk for the first time in a while, and trying to work off her argument with Stephen earlier in the day, she wasn’t letting her Reginald out of sight. He didn’t mind, of course, he always liked her attention, and if he let his mind wander it felt like, for a moment at least, it felt like they were something more. Y/N cuddled into his side, his arm around her shoulders, their friends around them.

With the bar doors opening came a wave of music and cheers: a local band were playing that night, one Reggie seemed vaguely familiar with as he hummed along to the song.

“Hi, we’ve got a table booked under Naomi’s name?” Luke called over the noise to the hostess by the door, Julie tucked into his side, more in an attempt to keep Luke walking straight. There were plenty of perks to being a resurrected ghost-human hybrid: alcohol tolerance was not one of those perks.

“Indeed you do, folks! Lemme just take y’all over, we can get you some drinks too if you’re up for it?” The hostess offered with a cheery smile, slipping out from behind the bar and beginning a quick walk down towards the dancefloor. Alex and Flynn were hot on her tail, Reggie and Y/N ambling along behind, keeping the lanky blonde in sight for reference, while Luke and Julie abandoned the group altogether for the dancefloor as a slow song came on.

“Could we get four, beers?” Alex asked as he and Flynn sat down, catching Y/N by Reggie’s side about fifteen paces out. “And uh, could you open it under a tab. Luke Patterson.” Alex added, pulling a backpack from his shoulder Y/N didn’t even realise he was in possession of, and retrieving Luke’s card from the front pocket, handing it over to the hostess.

“I sure can do. Can I just say, I love your guys’ music, we have it on in here before we opening almost every night.” The hostess said with a bright smile, a blush rising to her cheeks as Reggie smiled back at her, coming to sit down across from Alex and Flynn. “I’ll get those drinks right away.”

“I forgot that bedroom eyes were a thing…” Flynn mumbled as the hostess left, reaching out and clasping onto Y/N’s hands from across the table. “We should both be in bed. We have actual jobs. These guys can party but just watch what happens when we wake up with hangovers tomorrow and the whole day falls apart.” Flynn prophesised for Y/N, who squeezed her hands in reassurance. The smile on her friend’s face though as her drink arrived told Y/N that they were too far gone to stop at any point soon, and as such, the four friends clinked beer bottles as their night began.

Minutes were quick to turn into hours, one bottle of beer equally swift in turning to multiple rounds and shots on the side. Within the first hour, Y/N opted to switch her phone from silent to off, tired of the constant calls from Stephen, no doubt wanting to question her whereabouts. By hour two, she had convinced Reggie to spare her a dance or two. By hour three, that had turned to more than twenty songs on the dancefloor alongside Julie and Luke, the four only stopping to grab their refreshments as Flynn and Alex spent a large portion of their evening winning card games against the table to their right.

“Alright, alright, alright! Hey, thanks guys!” A booming voice called as a man ran up onto the stage, the band disappearing off as he took over the centre mic as hour four came close to finishing up. It was almost one in the morning, by what the rather buzzed tour team could tell, and the night was very much still young. Alex and Flynn had joined them all on the dancefloor, the slow dances and coupled dance offs between Juke and Reggie and Y/N forming into a dance circle of the friends showing off their best line dancing moves: Reggie was quite clearly the winner of that one. “We all having a good night?” The announcer asked again, and the crowd of the honky tonk cheered in response.

The place was deceptively large: it had taken Luke a solid twenty minutes just to find the bathrooms earlier in the night, and he got so lost on the way back, a mixture of his over-friendly nature once a bottle of beer was in him and simply the sheer amount of people in the building, that Flynn had to assist Julie in finding him.

The group all stood together near the centre of the dance hall as they watched the stage over the heads of their fellow patrons, Alex boosting Y/N onto his shoulder so she might see better. As she hugged onto the blonde’s back, another few people pushed through the crowd to ask the band for autographs.

This was the other common occurrence of the night: when they weren’t dancing or winning money off of Texan cowboys, the four band members had been overcome with a wave of people asking for pictures, autographs, or just for them to accept the compliment someone was paying. Y/N forgot just how famous her friends were sometimes, but it was overwhelming clarity, that night, that if her four dearest friends got pestered everywhere from the streets of LA to the honky tonks of Fort Worth, they’d be pestered anywhere.

“Now, for those visiting us tonight, I am your Master of Ceremonies for the evening, the name is Jacob Blythe.” As if on command, the crowd shouted back “Well, howdy Jacob!”, causing the man to chuckle heartily into the mic, the sound echoing around the hall over and over. “I introduce myself because a little birdie told me we have some friends from the Sunshine State with us tonight.” He added, and the crowd cheered. The team’s ‘incognito’ night out was truly public record now, but it was far too fun to really care. “So, our band tonight will be back after their break, we don’t wanna tire them out now. But that does mean we are in need of some musical talent!

“Now, I’m not pressuring none, but if any particular individuals wanna come up and give us a tune, I think we’d all be mighty grateful.” The MC stated, Y/N climbing off of Alex’s back as the four bandmates shared glances. “So, do we have any volunteers?”

Before anyone had a chance to stop him, Reggie suddenly disappeared from his spot amongst the group, appearing a moment on the stage behind the MC, who let out a rather high-pitched scream as Reggie sat his hand on his shoulder in greeting.

“What is he doing?” Y/N found herself asking, watching her friend picking up an acoustic guitar from its stand and fixing the strap around him before he clipped on a capo and stood himself in front of the mic.

“Good evening, Fort Worth. I’m Reggie.” He introduced himself to the cheers of the crowd, a spotlight focusing onto him as he spoke. He wasn’t quite sure why he was up on that stage, in fact every bone in his body seemed against it: but his hands settled into place over the strings and his fingers began to play a sweet arpeggio, getting used to the foreign guitar. He was lost to impulse, no doubt partially thanks to the liquor in his system, but he was confident enough to keep going, maybe too scared to stop.

“I think he’s gonna play.” Julie remarked, stating the obvious as she grabbed Luke’s hand and led him closer to the stage, Flynn doing the same to Y/N as Alex followed behind.

“I uh, I usually leave our band’s songwriting up to Luke, right there.” Reggie added as he continued to play, pointing a hand out towards Luke who waved to the surrounding crowd, another round of whoops sounding. “But I dabble, and since this is my home state… I have something new for you guys tonight.” He finally paused the arpeggio, taking one last sigh before using the same chords and beginning to play the mysterious song.

“Let’s fall in love for the night and forget in the mornin’.” He sang out, his voice so soft and sweet that Y/N found herself instantly fixed on the music. She was often this way with Reggie, whenever he sang she could swear that the rest of the world disappeared. “Play me a song that you like you can bet I'll know every line. 'Cause I'm the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid, don't waste your eyes on jealous guys, stop that noise.” Reggie lifted his hand from the guitar, his eyes scanning the audience to send a wink towards his friends, two of whom recognised the lyrics of his chosen serenade. “I know better than to call you mine.”

“Wow…” Y/N whispered, impressed, lifting her elbow to nudge Alex, but meeting thin air instead.

“You need a pick-me-up?” Reggie sang, Alex appearing at the drumkit on stage behind the raven haired singer and joining in on a drum line, to the cheers of the crowd. “Well, I'll be there in 25. I like to push my luck, so take my hand, let's take a drive.” With a nod towards Julie and Luke, he coaxed the other bandmates onto the stage, leaving Flynn in charge of the entranced Y/N, pushing the girl alongside her towards the front of the crowd. “'Cause I've been livin' in the future hopin' I might see you sooner. I want you ridin' shotgun. I knew when I got one right.” He continued to sing, passing off the guitar to Luke as Julie took her place at the piano and played the chords with a smile Reggie’s way.

“Let's fall in love for the night and forget in the mornin'. Play me a song that you like you can bet I'll know every line.” Reggie sang out, this time accompanied by the harmony of Julie and the backing vocals of Alex and Luke, the four sharing smiles as they performed. “'Cause I'm the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid, don't waste your eyes on jealous guys, stop all that noise. I know better than to call you mine.”

As Y/N watched on, nestled in the crowd, she couldn’t help but wonder when Reggie was struck with such romantic inspiration. She had spent almost every day for the last near month with him, and with his last big hit being ‘Home Is Where My Horse Is’, she allowed herself the curiosity, a beer in hand that she found herself sipping away at as she observed.

“Where’d you get that drink?” Flynn whispered into Y/N’s ear, who shrugged and took another sip.

“I love it when you talk that nerdy shit. We're in our twenties talkin' thirties shit. We're makin' money but we're savin' it, ‘cause talking shit is cheap and we talk a lot of it.” The song continued, the crowd cheering and dancing along to the music while Y/N found herself fixed to her spot, not even noticing as Flynn played safety guard and relieved her of the drink in her hands. “You won't stay with me, I know, but you can have your way with me 'til you go.” Julie and Reggie harmonised on the line, Luke and Alex suddenly disappearing from the stage, Julie taking her leave, quick to pull Flynn away with her and leave Y/N alone in front of the stage. “And if all your kisses turn into bruises, I'm a warnin’.”

And then, Y/N struggled to breathe, completely paralysed when Reggie’s eyes locked with her own.

“Let's fall in love for the night and forget in the mornin'.” Reggie lifted the microphone from its stand, walking round and jumping off the low stage onto the dancefloor as he sang. There was a confidence in the music he couldn’t dispel, emotions he might have never admitted otherwise coming into the open, at least that was what he hoped. His walk was in time to the best of the drums left to echo as he sang acapella, his feet only stopping once they were toe to toe with Y/N’s.

“Play me a song that you like you can bet I'll know every line.” They had been that close all night, dancing away to the sounds of the country band, or when Y/N had spent half the rodeo hiding in his arms fearful for the bull riders in the arena below them. But it felt different, intimate.

“'Cause I'm the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid.” His free hand lifted hers from her side, taking her hand in his and lifting their arms above their heads to spin Y/N on the spot: that action too was slow, something that made the rest of the world outsiders looking into a rare moment. “Don't waste your eyes on jealous guys, fuck that noise.”

“I know better. I know better. I know better than to ever call you mine.” The look the pair shared, Reggie finding himself smirking as he let the mic fall, it was nothing either of them had experienced before, and Reggie vanished into thin air as the crowd erupted into cheers.

It was only once he had disappeared, only once the crowd broke into thunderous applause, that Y/N felt herself breathe again. She was overcome with a dizziness she would equate to the feeling after a rollercoaster ride, paired with the sound of her heart in her ears and near pounding out her chest, and that was before mentioning the flush that coloured her cheeks and nose red. A part of her might have called it fault of the alcohol, but Y/N had never felt more sober. His smirk was sketched into her memory, the feeling of his hand on hers burned in her skin, the smell of his cologne a scent she had never noticed was so very enticing before. It was like she had been transported to some kind of paradisal state of being, the way his eyes held her own like she might drown in the deep sea green irises…

There wasn’t much Y/N could make sense of in the few moments that ended the performance, but she knew, deep in her gut:

This wasn’t good.

Y/N’s Instagram Feed: Day 23/93

and the rumours begin...

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sleepyjuniper · 3 years

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Ghost Stories - A Bugsnax Short Story

Hey guys, so this is a little thing I was suddenly inspired to write after watching Vinny's playthrough of Bugsnax, which I whipped up and left in the comment section of the campfire cutscene video. I figured people would come across it there, but I'm not so sure now, so I'm posting it here for anyone who cares. (It's not going anywhere else because I'm so embarrassed by my extreme inexplicable obsession with these characters that I can't bear anyone I know to read it fhdhdhsjsj) either way, it's just a fun first person practice piece that takes place in the canon game where everyone is telling scary stories around the campfire! It's under the cut, because I ain't a barbarian. I hope you enjoy!

There's funny moments in life sometimes, where you notice things that would normally go unnoticed unless paid close attention to. This was one of those moments. As I sit gathered around the campfire with these other grumpuses I hardly know nor do I particularly care about, the soft flicker of the campfire warming only my face and a bit of my limbs but doing nothing for my cold back, I simply stare into the licking flames and get lost in a trance. I notice how the dry logs glow and curl into themselves where the fire touches them. I sit mesmerized by the bright colors, while around me the grumpuses chat about the island and swap conspiracies. Gramble's nervous voice is mostly lost to me as he lays claims that something lurks beyond the woods at night.

Triffany's story about disappearing ancient grump bodies helps to drag my attention back to the current moment, and as she talks, I look around the rest of the quiet village. I almost thought I heard something walking around behind me, but when I looked, there was nothing.

I turn back to the campfire, and just then, a cold breeze picks up, and the fire dies out. The demeanor changes drastically, instantly, as everyone seems to get a bit more nervous in the dark. Filbo tells me to get some more firewood, and as I'm shuffling away from the campfire, I definitely hear something walking around. I turn on my heels to look for the source of the noise, but again see nothing. Before I go to the mill, I quietly tip toe around the houses and look in every crevice, but there's no grumpus, bugsnax, or alleged monster to be found. I find the wood and return to the campfire so everyone can continue chatting.

As everyone starts talking again, Beffica stands up and launches into a theory so wild and disturbing that it keeps me from drifting off again. Wambus is the first to contradict Beffica, saying grumpuses couldn't possibly cannibalize each other, and Filbo suddenly looks uncomfortable (or nervous, I'm not sure) and excuses himself. I watch him go, regretting that the most tolerable out of the colorful group of grumpuses is leaving, and force myself to endure and listen to the conversation. Yet another argument begins, and I can't help thinking that this is getting old. Beffica claims that not only is someone cannibalizing grumpuses, but that it's Floofty, and she saw them eat a grumpus with her own eyes. I share Gramble's anxiety for once, and then everyone stops talking at the sound of Filbo's far off scream. Everyone looks to me, and I think, what did I do to deserve this?

Clearly no one else is getting up, so I reluctantly rise from my seat again, and head off cautiously towards the bathroom.

I approach the outhouse, and there's a split second where I hear a noise and think oh it's just Filbo, and also ewwww, and also this is way above my paycheck. But then the noise gets louder and more guttural, and I don't think I've ever heard that noise come out of a grumpus before. Something about it is unnatural. Despite myself, I inch closer, feeling my fur begin to stand on end, feeling cold dread pooling in my stomach. Then Filbo's voice sounds behind me, and I swear I could've leapt three feet in the air from how much it startled me.

"Oh, hey buddy!" He exclaims with a friendly wave, then looks somewhat abashed. "Uh, sorry, I uh, I got a little too spooked and I came here to calm down."

I look from him to the outhouse, my fur once again standing on end, as I realize he was never in there in the first place.

"Wh- who's in the bathroom?" I question him, and he looks confused.

"Huh? I-I-I don't know what you're talking about, Buddy. Are.. you feeling okay? You look like you've seen a ghost!" He concludes with a chuckle, and I get the sense it's because my own nervous state is making him nervous, and he's trying to lighten the mood with jokes. I don't respond, so he clears his throat and speaks more decisively. "Well uh, let's keep it together and get back to the fire!"

I start to follow him, feeling distraught, but then I stop and decide to hang back for a minute. I turn around, walk back to the outhouse, and after a brief moment of collecting myself, I open the door, prepared to clear my conscious about the weird sounds I'd heard.

But when I do, there's nothing there.

I look all around, but I don't see anything out of the usual. I finally lean forward and look into the ominous hole, but it's too dark to see into its depths. And I feel pretty stupid after I do. I'm literally looking for clues inside a toilet. Frustrated, I leave the door open so nobody mistakes it for being occupied, and find my way back to the group.

After that ordeal, I simply don't have it in me to tolerate Wiggle's singing monologue, and it's all that I can manage to stay quiet and not explode while this ridiculous grumpus with a pineapple for hair sings about a supposed 'Queen of Bugsnax', while everyone miraculously listens in complete silence.

Just as she's finishing, there's a loud crash that has everyone jumping to their feet and staring in the direction of the noise. All except Wiggle, who STARTS SINGING AGAIN for some GRUMPING REASON. Everyone is too occupied to even notice.

After there's no further noise, everyone turns back to look at each other and figure out what to do next. I'm itching to figure out what the grump is going on, so I listen carefully as they debate. Filbo takes the lead, assuring everyone not to worry and that we'll check it out.

"If something goes wrong, sacrifice Filbo first." Is what Beffica says before we set off towards the mill, and also what I ignore.

I take the lead, and we make our way through the fog, to the millhouse, which now has a huge and jagged hole in the side, like a spuddy rammed straight through it, leaving it in splinters.

We step inside, and then venture up the stairs, and I stop short at the sight of a random green grumpus standing in the room. Filbo continues towards them.

"Chandlo?!" I hear him exclaim in disbelief, and I realize oh, this is just another one of Filbo's 'friends'.

So that explains some of it.. I think as I notice the extremely muscled nature of this grumpus, and recall the state of the millhouse's doors. Kind of barbaric to just barrel through it, though.

Apparently this grumpus is another of the pre-Lizbert-dissappearing villagers, and he introduces himself to me before him and Filbo continue talking. Apparently his name is Chandlo, and I gather that this is where he used to stay before Lizbert vanished. He's only come back to grab something he left in the house. Plus he mentions someone named Shelda? Then he reveals he's taking the stuff he came back for to someone named Snorpy.

My mind starts trying to piece together information about these new grumpuses he's named from the way he talks about them, while Filbo tries to convince him to come say hi to everyone else.

Chandlo rejects the invitation, saying if he does, they'll want him to stay, and promptly leaves with a cheerful "Catch ya later, bros!"

"But I- but I DO want you to stay!" Filbo yells after Chandlo, but the mysterious grumpus is already gone. "Oh, darn it!" He mumbles dejectedly, before turning back to me. "Oh well, let's get back and tell the others."

Back at the campfire, everyone is waiting for us. "Don't worry folks, I'm fine!" Filbo announces with a light-hearted chuckle. This is met with silence, until Filbo says "Oh, and the noise was just Chandlo." Everyone responds with a sigh of relief, and begins chattering again.

"But wait," Gramble says, "what if Chandlo WAS the Queen of Bugsnax?" Aaaaand there they go again. I slump into my seat again with an exhale, letting the chatter continue on while I rest my chin on one paw and zone out. As they talk however, I remember the whole bathroom encounter, and realize something.. doesn't quite add up. The noises hadn't been Filbo, but they couldn't have been from ANY grumpus. And on top of that, I hadn't heard anyone leave the bathroom afterwards. Whatever it was had simply.. vanished.

Unnerved, I try not to think about it, and for the first time, I'm comforted to simply be surrounded by these other grumpuses and just listen to them go on and on about their silly feuds and wild conspiracies.

Either way, there's definitely more to this island than meets the eye. And I'm going to get to the bottom of it.

#bugsnax #fanfiction #bugsnax fanfiction #bugsnax fandom #filbo fiddlepie #the journalist #beffica winklesnoot #triffany lottablog #wambus troubleham #gramble gigglefunny #wiggle wigglebottom #chandlo funkbun #snorpy fizzlebean #shelda woolbag #campfire stories #ghost stories #first person pov

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shimmershae · 3 years

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Just a few random thoughts and observations about Daryl’s Origins episode.

Basically my stream of consciousness bullshit brought over from Twitter, lol. I almost didn’t watch the episode after seeing all the drama over there, but ultimately I decided to because frankly? I don’t trust certain fans’ perceptions of events. For reasons. It’s best, I feel, to always watch with your own eyes and form your own independent opinions because this fandom is teeming with people that delight in tormenting other fans by being very selective and oftentimes downright misrepresentative about what they pass along.

More under the cut because this is random and all over the place and basically excerpts of my live blogging while watching the special. Did I mention it’s random?

You know. It sure would be nice not going into one of these things so apprehensive. Maybe one day, hmm?

First things first. From the very beginning of this Origins episode, I’m reminded of two things: 1). Our introduction to Daryl, his colorful Dixonese, and his particular brand of humor certainly stands out as one of show's more memorable introductions. 2). TWD certainly regressed on the deer front. I mean. Daryl's deer>Richonne's deer.

I’m never going to get over "On Golden Pond." Never ever and look. I actually liked Dale but Daryl spitting those words at him still makes me laugh until I'm weak.

Daryl's still searching all these years later. Or is he? Really? Seems to me the man's found exactly what he's been looking for and he's been chasing it since he came back from those woods: a future with his soulmate. The one that happens to be his best friend. OFC, I’m talking about Carol. Who else?

How pretty and soft are baby Daryl and Carol? Too pretty and soft for this tired heart to withstand. Like I love all versions of them, but baby Daryl and Carol just hit different.

My immediate thought re: the Beth comment-- Misreads the situation? WTF? Whoever wrote this script just had to re-inject some eww into the narrative didn't they? All those damn dirty spoons. Ever think about how much it probably reeks in that office space?

Moving along, though. Here’s some real facts. Carol is so intrinsically woven into the fabric of Daryl's story, the only way she can be removed is if they are literally both destroyed and cease to exist. Something happens to Carol? The man is going to be a reanimated body without a heartbeat. Basically a Walker.

An aside, I know they're not making me rewatch a scene I haven't watched since the first time it aired. The way Negan's head bashing tendencies had me seeing red and wanting that barbed wire bat shoved up his ass every time I saw his face. My JDM love really took a serious hit for awhile. I'm never going to forgive the character that hateful act. I just can't.

Somehow I wasn't expecting this to be a teleprompter-fest. Like who wrote this script? Hmm. Sorry. Don't mind me. Lost in my thoughts per usual. You know. It still strikes me as hella insensitive that Rick had Daryl leading the Sanctuary community knowing what he suffered there. There's no way Daryl would have returned that kind of favor.

Yep. Leah still feels tacked on last minute. A means to an end. Sigh. They completely glossed her over here. Too bad they had that lapse in judgment with some other toxic waste. I cannot believe they touched that with a ten foot pole. It's just cringe-worthy and wrong.

"Daryl can't say no to Carol." They say those words and I’m like “Join the club, my dude. Join the club, lol.”

You know. All the Carol-related moments in this Daryl Dixon recap speak for themselves. She's his person, dammit.

Okay though. That reunion in the tall grass with the sun shining on them all golden and picturesque, after Alpha’s taken Daryl to show him her horde? That's some romance novel shit right there. "Look at me. Just look at me." I'm never going to recover from that moment or the discovery of Sophia. They break my heart so.

This recap is literally 2/3's Carol and the other 1/3 Rick and everybody else. I mean. It's so obvious. Utterly and completely misrepresented by some agenda-driven folks.

"We have a future." Oh. Just some pretty, meaningless words you say everyday to all your friends, lol. Just friends my whole entire ass.

"I'm never gonna hate you." Okay, AMC. Back up all the talk with some action that even the most willfully blind cannot deny, m'kay? Because they're not going to buy it until you're explicit about it. Just saying.

The amount of times "Carol" has left this man's mouth during this recap, lol, and some people keep wanting to ignore it.

Aww. Guess who they showed when Daryl mentioned family? How sweet. And when they mentioned purpose in connection with C0nnie, it was not any indication of romance, IMHO.

Let me explain.

By the time C0nnie is lost, Daryl’s floundering because he feels he hasn’t been able to help Carol despite giving it all and pushing back his previously established comfort zone(s). Enter these pair of sisters. And they put him in mind of the good parts of him and Merle. Probably they make him remember the Greene girls when things were good and hopeful before they went sideways. In some small way, he’s probably reminded of other family units like Rick and Carl and Lori and Carol and Sophia and later Henry. And all of those people have something in common. Well, besides being people Daryl has known and cared for. They’ve seen their family units fractured and/or destroyed by tragedies wrought by the world they live in. They made a point and emphasized that Daryl’s a searcher and also that family matters to him. In some way or form he’s been doing his best to help repair or reunite all these different family members since the beginning and ultimately he’s failed to succeed each time. So yeah. He’s been given a purpose in a time of uncertainty again with her because this time he’s determined to get it right. This time he wants to bring the two sisters back together the way he couldn’t do for the Greene girls. Like I did not, do not read anything romantic at all into that comment. Just my take on things. Obviously, everyone else’s mileage may vary. I’ll step off my soapbox now. Hopefully, maybe these words might comfort.

So relax, lovelies. It wasn't as bad as I feared. Sure, they could have left that one icky comment out but they didn't and honestly? I don't think it's a positive for that particular 'relationship' because it's something that's brought up to show just how messed up Daryl was. Because grown men that have their heads on straight don't usually have those type of misreads. They know they are inappropriate. Like I'm not putting Daryl into the pedo category because I don't feel like he belongs there. But I can see how him being so emotionally stunted and naive so far as interpersonal relationships and the nuances of friendship and non-toxic family could lend itself to him maybe reading more into those moments than were really there and not really knowing how to deal.

Whoever wrote that teleprompter script though? That particular asshole is probably grinning like a donkey with a mouth full of briars at all the unnecessary drama they stirred up yet again. Like newsflash, goober. There are better ways to foster interest in your show.

They should hire a team of fans to do the promotion. Fans that represent all factions of this fractured fandom so the promotion is well-rounded and not so heavily slanted toward any one of them but the diverse fandom as a whole.

Stop fanning the stupid ship wars and just celebrate the damn characters and the overall story. Nothing new or groundbreaking to see on this first Origins story but hey. Who doesn't mind a decent recap now and then? That said, don't sweat not having AMC+ or feel like you missed all that much because you didn't.

I do have to say. Them pretending B3th was the first girl to be nice to Daryl really had me going WTF.

I mean, there’s this little exchange from Carol, the first woman to be nice to Daryl, probably the first person from the group--

"You're every bit as good as them. Every bit."

AMC? TWD? Do you even watch your own show?

There you have it. My bullshit stream of consciousness, originally posted over on Twitter as I liveblogged the show. Hope you got something helpful or of entertainment value from this.

Goodnight, lovelies.

Until next time.

#The Walking Dead #The Walking Dead: Origins #Daryl Dixon #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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aros001 · 3 years

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First time read through light novel vol. 18. Random thoughts.

I somewhat suspect the author was hungry while writing this volume.

Also, wow, I knew Kizuna was short but the prior artworks never gave me the full idea of how short. She

is only chest-high compared to Naofumi and Glass (I suppose that could make Glass happy, though; ease of access for Kizuna and whatnot).

Given that, outside of the natural gluttons like Filo, S’yne, and the killer whale sisters, the only person on Naofumi's side with the "Eat food for EXP" matter is Itsuki, I think this is him falling dangerously close to thinking only in terms of game mechanics instead of reality, much like the other three heroes had been early on. Theoretically, yes, if you can gain levels and strength just by eating, why wouldn't you do a lot of it? But he's almost outright ignoring the physical discomfort and pain it's causing his allies and seeing only the numbers. Not to mention that he himself doesn't appear to be eating nearly as much, as he's focus on the cooking.

That said, it is cute that this is the first time in her life Filo is starting to feel full.

Chapter One: Sloth

OH SHI-! Oh, wait. Wrong franchise. We're good. I did not want to have to imagine Kizuna biting her fingers off (Kizuna: "My brain trembles!!!).

If Kizuna is indeed suffering under the curse of Sloth, I'm curious what triggered that specific sin for her. We only have the four heroes of Raphtalia's world to go off of but each sin applied to that specific hero for a reason. Naofumi: Wrath because of his hatred of what Witch and Trash put him through. Ren: Greed because he wanted more EXP, levels, and loot; a toxic extreme of his solo-adventuring. Itsuki: Pride because he believed only in his view of justice. And Motoyasu: lust and envy because of his obsession with Filo and being kept away from her. Kizuna's obsession with fishing, even when there's other important matters that need to be dealt with, I suppose could be considered lazy and thus lead to sloth as its extreme, but it feels a little bit like a stretch.

As he did so, the books from a nearby shelf whirled up into the air, forming . . . a dinosaur . . . perhaps. No, a dragon. The monster’s name was “Magical Tome Dragon.” Now things were really getting a bit crazy. A dragon created from books! Was this some kind of joke?

I want a Yu-Gi-Oh card of that.

“Don’t tell me, Glass is like the Raphtalia of this world? Could we really get that lucky?”

I mean, that's what the fandom likes to joke when it comes to her and Kizuna.

Breaking the sloth curse through Kizuna's love of fishing was about what I expected. Not complaining, of course. Again though, I'm just wonder what about her coincides with Sloth. She prefers talking it out and making allies as opposed to fighting but I wouldn't exactly call that lazy or slothful either.

Kizuna had a lot of folks like this among her allies—people who had started out as enemies but then became allies. If I fought someone as an enemy, there was generally no coming back—there were exceptions, like Sadeena and Shildina, so it was probably better not to generalize.

Glass and L'Arc are literally standing right next to Naofumi as he thinks this and Motoyasu, Ren, and Itsuki all tried to murder him at one point or another. S'yne was part of the gladiator fights too, now that I think about it, and while they never fought he and Trash were definitely enemies for a while. This dude turns more enemies into friends than freakin' Naruto. Being kind of oblivious is part of Naofumi's character but I suppose this could be seen as an interesting look as to how exactly he considers someone an enemy. If they fought him for reasons he eventually came to understand and sympathize with, then he perhaps doesn't consider them as ever having been a "true" enemy.

Aww, Glass is jealous of Tsugumi being close to Kizuna. And unlike Raphtalia with Naofumi, Kizuna doesn't have any kind of tragedy that keeps her opposed to relationship and would require Glass to be patient. I suppose Glass could simply be afraid of hurting their friendship by proposing romance or even that Kizuna doesn't swing that way. And this is from Naofumi's perspective, so Glass being gay could be completely off the mark. Still, it'd be nice to get a solid landing one way or another. Even Eclair unknowingly rejecting Ren at least give solid confirmation that he's into her and why they're not together.

“What! I’m the Hunting Hero! I don’t handle the cooking part!” Kizuna complained.

“And I’m the Shield Hero!” I retorted. Not the Stewpot Hero! If anyone called me that, I would kill them with cookery!

And technically, you're not even that right now. Not with that mirror on your arm. The mirror is cool and all but I am looking forward to Naofumi eventually getting his shield back. He just feels incomplete without it.

“Almost feeding time!” one of them said. Others proceeded to chime in.

“Yes . . . the time we’ve all been waiting for.”

“The moment we live for, basically!”

“Even if I only get to eat one mouthful . . . that is the fuel that will keep me alive!”

“I’ll never eat anything but his cooking ever again!”

“I think the schweiz is the best! It has to be!”

“No! The stietz!”

“Hey! No fighting! We’ve been warned about fighting!”

Did they stumble across a food cult?

“It isn’t bad,” Filo said. “It just isn’t as nice as yours, Master.”

“Well, okay . . .” I replied.

“All of the heroes have cooked in the village, Mr. Naofumi, but Filo and everyone else all feel the same way,” Raphtalia told me.

Filo also grew up with Naofumi's cooking since birth, so while he's already a good cook you get the added taste of home for her. I've said it before but out of everyone I consider Filo to be the most like Naofumi's daughter.

“Then you wish to settle the bill,” she replied. I thought it was free. As my suspicions intensified, the girl spread both of her hands and continued. “How was the food at Seya’s restaurant? It was so delicious, wasn’t it? If you wish to become a member, please leave all of your assets or hand over anything that can be turned into money. If you leave some personal items as collateral, you can have some time to go and fetch some offerings.”

Yep, that's a cult alright.

“Master’s food!” Filo said.

“They’ll get a surprise when they taste what you’re cooking, kiddo,” L’Arc said.

“Indeed. Your victory is assured, if that’s the best they can do,” Glass agreed. I was still concerned about how aggressive they were being. Were they hopped up on endorphins or something? They weren’t acting in character at all.

My first thought was that the OOC behavior was some side effect Naofumi didn't realize came with the Mirror weapon's power-up method, but then why wouldn't Raphtalia or Kizuna be effected when they have been eating the food too? Then I thought maybe they were more used to eating Naofumi's food in general and would have a tolerance to any addictive effects, but then why is Filo still effected?

“That’s the best dish Seya’s restaurant has to offer! Seya’s curry bag! And it’s Fifth Floor too!” one of the MCs shouted. I barely stopped myself from tipping over onto the ground. He really was just reheating a premade curry in a bag! So he was allowed to heat and serve already finished dishes? I mean, that might give me some ideas myself . . .

“The flavors that are normally lost in reheating have been sealed in the bag using proprietary technology! Now you get the maximized flavor from the moment you open the bag! This truly is the ultimate culinary technique! Everyone, watch this kitchen miracle closely as it unfolds before your astounded eyes!” The MCs continued their diatribe, but it just made it harder for me to keep a straight face. It was all a matter of perspective. Capturing the flavor in a bag was certainly a worse approach than making it on the spot.

“Naofumi . . . am I imagining things? It looks to me like he’s just adding or warming up instant ingredients using hot water,” Kizuna said.

So, like most other antagonists in this series lately, Seya is just an arrogant, entitled fraud high on his own stolen power. Why am I not surprised? Though he is giving me a bit of a Kazuma from Konosuba vibe with how he managed to figure out how to recreate items the old heroes would have talked about from Japan. It's odd to say he doesn't have nearly the same level of charisma as Kazuma give...well...it's Kazuma and he's deliberately written to be a massive scumbag.

I do like with his magic powers and awesome cape, Naofumi is basically the little muddy boy meeting a superhero, one who will save the day through cooking.

As for Kizuna . . . I handed her some of the fish we had brought in and had her cut it up. She’d finished with the poisonous fish already. Her life as a fishing fool was paying off now. She knew her way around a fish. The blood had been skillfully drained, and overall, she was a step ahead when it came to gutting and cleaning.

...You think the Hunting Tool can turn into something like the Wunder Boner

I explained pointedly, looking at Seya, Trash III, and the other MC. Trash III responded by flipping me off. I could taunt with the best of them, and I mouthed some swear words back.

I mean, one of my favorite scenes in Isekai Quartet was Naofumi and Shalltear sassing each other, so I can agree with that.

“Pollution?” Kizuna asked, looking puzzled.

“You didn’t notice that?” I replied. “Well, just watch.” She wasn’t the brightest bulb, that was for sure.

“Hmmm, I think I need to go wash up,” the rotund noble said. “I’ll be right back.” The judges proceeded to take turns visiting the washroom. Once they had all returned, it was time to eat Seya’s food.

“Huh?” Kizuna, L’Arc, and Therese were looking puzzled. The other diners around us too. I guess there was cause for a little suspicion.

...Did Naofumi give them laxatives?

“Ah!” Kizuna finally cottoned on. “So that’s why you used so many medicinal herbs in your dishes!”

“Exactly. The reason they all wanted to go to the washroom after eating was to expel the toxins. I also used other herbs to bolster the lethargic feeling that would bring on,” I explained.

He gave the judges f**king laxatives! That's hilarious! I get the actual explanation he gives is more complicated than that, relating to purifying and digestion and getting them to finally take notice of the toxins in Seya's food now that they're free from its hold, but it's funny to think that's basically what he did. He won a cooking competition through dishes that encouraged the judges to take a sh*t (or a p*ss, I suppose).

“Hey . . . you’ve been reading too many cooking manga. It’s an illusion that delicious and good things will be evaluated highly. What you need is popularity and demand,” I said. Of course, it had to taste good, but putting the emphasis on that as a bare requirement was also a problem. If you were planning on selling food in a restaurant, of course it had to taste good. Customers came because of other elements, because of popularity. If Seya’s restaurant collapsed here, it would cause trouble for all the judges. That was why I’d created an escape for them. In order to realize the future that boy wanted.

While we don't see Naofumi selling his wares so much anymore because he has far less of a need to, it is nice we do still get that cynical and merchant side of him. All that time didn't just go to waste and it's still a key part of his character.

“What, then? What do you want?” Seya asked.

“There’s someone behind all of this, correct? Someone pulling the strings. If you tell us all about that, we’ll let you go. Hey, I have an idea. Write it down on this piece of paper here. I want a record of this.” I said and passed a piece of paper to him. Seya’s expression immediately brightened.

“That’s all you want? Fine, I can—” But the rest of that sentence vanished into an awful grunt. The moment Seya tried to write a single word, his head simply crumpled in on itself. He managed a brief scream, and then his entire melon exploded. I didn’t want to traumatize my allies, so I quickly threw up a cage and blocked out the grisly scene. Then I gave a sigh.

Well...that was kind of f**ked up for Naofumi to do. Don't get me wrong, after what they had to do to get Takt to be willing to confess, this is much less horrific. But Naofumi did basically just give Seya false hope and then trick him into executing himself. I get why he did it and how dangerous the vanguards are, but it is interesting to think that while ROTSH isn't the darkest of the light novel series I've been reading, Naofumi, save for Ainz Ooal Gown, is definitely the most morally grey of the protagonists compared to Kazuma, Subaru, and Goblin Slayer.

“No matter how delicious the food is, if you eat the same thing every time, you’ll start to get sick of it. Once you get sick of it, you won’t overeat simply because you won’t want to. I’ve been applying that concept to my food,”

That is better than what I was thinking with Naofumi getting too into the game mechanics. And boy do I feel for his friends. It's the same thing that killed me off of soda for a few years. Obviously it's worse to starve than be overstuffed but it's still not a pleasant experience.

We were talking about the primary reason why Kizuna was summoned here in the first place. To put it simply, the idea was to revive the Demon Dragon.

YYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

And they Tanya'd him too; reborn as an infant of the opposite gender. So does that make Kizuna or Naofumi Being X?

“Seriously . . . it brings dragon tears to my dragon eyes to see you, the great Shield Hero who defeated me, now reduced to this.” The Demon Dragon placed her front paws against her head and muttered sadly to herself.

“I hope you aren’t looking for sympathy,” I said harshly.

“Just think about it for a moment. The same bunch who shouted about defeating me and saving the world are now back, having screwed everything up, relying on me—their sworn enemy—to save them! Take a look around. Does this world look like it’s at peace to you? Well?” the dragon said, really coming for me now. What was worse, I didn’t really have a reply. This world was still plagued by humans fighting each other and had been ravaged by the vanguards of the waves. Everything the dragon had said so far had been so on the money that Kizuna and Glass probably didn’t have any response either. “Can you see how this might feel like something from your own past? Having been chased as a criminal, and then having to clean up after those very weaklings who were chasing you after they had been beaten down by the waves and people from another world?” That punch really landed hard. I wanted to call it a low blow, but she was basically providing a stunningly succinct summary of my life in these other worlds.

Seriously though, after Kyo, Takt, and the various other vanguards, it is so refreshing to have a villain who speaks with some dignity and can actually make a decent point or two, rather than "I'm strong so I can do whatever I want! Losers!" In my vol. 16 random thoughts I compared Takt to All For One from My Hero Academia and I still feel the same way. The two are not that much different goal-wise. They wanted the world and had the power to make it theirs, thus their actions. It is an immature goal when you think about it but AFO did not act anywhere near as immature as Takt and it made him feel so much more intimating. He would sometimes mock his enemy but when he did they were deep cuts that he knew would get under the skin of someone he truly hated, like All Might, rather than just throwing out insults and acting like a brat. And the Demon Dragon is the same (the High Priest too, now that I remember him, even if I don't talk about him as much). I liked Glass as an antagonist because she was intimidating, spoke only as much as she needed to, and was very powerful compared to the protagonists at that time, getting Naofumi to fear facing her again and giving her weight to the story and for the audience. Finding out later her motivations gave her some depth and added grey to the situation. The Demon Dragon is not nearly as sympathetic, but he still works for a lot of the reasons she did. There's presence to him, er, her. It's not a brat who needs to be knocked off their high horse but a genuine threat.

And being able to work with the heroes weirdly makes that even better. The Demon Dragon calls a 100 year truce, not because she's on the side of good, but because she wants there to still be a world around for her to take over. She's completely open about her goal, which ironically makes it easier to trust her.

“That should do for now,” the dragon said. “Hmmm, and this is a female body. Excellent. Shield Hero, under the condition that you will ultimately mate with me, I shall provide even greater cooperation.” So that was how long it took for things to take a crazy turn.

Still a little weird that she wants to f**k Naofumi though. And when the anime gets to this part there is almost definitely going to be a fanfic or doujin. Actually, now that I think about it, there are going to be creators getting some mileage out of when the Demon Dragon tried to take Naofumi over earlier in the series.

“Can’t you make do with Kizuna? She’s one of the four holies from this world. You’ll just have to overcome the gender barrier,” I said.

“Why me?!” Kizuna exclaimed.

“What are you planning on doing to Kizuna?” Now Glass turned a hostile gaze on me too.

Ahh, Naofumi's such a d*ck, I love it. Also, now that's two rivals in one book for Glass. She's almost caught up with Raphtalia.

It would have suited us better if the enemy was a bunch of morons. It was annoying that life never worked out quite so easily. We had no idea how bad it was going to get with the waves, so we had to plan our moves carefully and move to prevent this “fusion of the worlds,” whatever that meant.

Wouldn't that be a heck of a comeback to my bitching about the villains? The ones behind the vanguards have been sending out their idiots first, the ones arrogant and drunk off their power, to soften up the heroes first and cause a bunch of damage but that they know will ultimately just get killed. Takt and the others getting offered up as sacrificial lambs basically because those like S'yne's sister don't like them either.

“I’m starting to feel sorry for Naofumi,” Kizuna agreed.

“He probably thinks you two are in the ‘harem,’” I told them.

“I really don’t like that,” Glass responded. “No, I don’t. I don’t like that at all.” I wasn’t sure why she said it three times, but I didn’t like it either. Just for the record.

“Naofumi is a friend and a comrade, but we’re not like that!” Kizuna retorted. I wondered if she really understood the situation. She was the type who needed things to be said directly to her face.

“A shame we don’t have Fohl here. Even L’Arc would have worked,” I said. Just a few guys mixed in might have broken the group up a bit and prevented it from looking like a harem.

“Naofumi . . . even if we did have some guys, it would probably just give them some different ideas. Like . . . boys love?” Kizuna said. It sounded like, whatever the composition of the party, they would presume a lewd relationship with me at the center.

You know, you never hear about this kind of thing with Ren and Itsuki. Motoyasu went out of his way to have a harem and he still doesn't get it thrown at him as much as Naofumi does. Maybe it's one of those "He protest too much" kind of mindsets, where the more Naofumi denies it the more people think it's true.

“You got lucky. If a wave had occurred with the world of our illustrious leader, we were planning on shattering you. That’s the problem with this system; that’s the only way to get the reward for destroying a world,” the sister explained. I’d heard this talk about rewards for destroying worlds before, I vaguely recalled. I had no idea where that reward came from.

So there's a third world mixed up in all this. Obviously there already was the implication of multiple universes with S'yne and such but now there's a big spotlight on somewhere besides Raphtalia and Kizuna's worlds, where the big bad supposedly lives.

“That’s pretty much what I was expecting. Shield Hero, let me tell you something interesting,” the Demon Dragon began. Then she looked at the Artificial Behemoth’s chest again. “That part there houses a corrupted holy weapon from this world, which has artificially turned the monster into one of the four holy heroes and has allowed it all the power-up methods. It’s basically the monster version of a holy hero.”

I'm somewhat suspecting it's the Blunt Force Holy Weapon, given how easily that beast is smashing through barriers.

The soul that Raphtalia had pulled from the vanguard of the waves was not much like the body it had come from. Instead, it was a gloomy, Japanese-looking guy who was probably in his thirties.

...

“The vanguards of the waves are people who have been reborn or transferred over here after being selected by the one who assumes the name of God. They are given all sorts of abilities, such as the power to steal holy weapons or seven star weapons. They come into these worlds and start causing chaos,” I explained.

“Reborn? You mean like having spare bodies, like Kyo?” Raphtalia asked.

“No, something else. Just their souls were led to this world from Japan, and then they were reborn here as someone from this world. With their memories of the past,” I said. For example, they are people who died in unfortunate accidents—people like Ren, Itsuki, and Motoyasu. This “god” would whisper to them that they had died an untimely death and offer to reincarnate them in any world they liked. They were already dead and so had no reason to reject such an offer. If they did, the “god” probably claimed to be taken with their resolve and promised to give them additional cheat powers, basically forcing them to accept. In some cases, maybe they were just forced to be reborn, no matter what they felt. I’d read books like that, loads of them. Now that they knew being summoned to another world was actually a thing, why not getting reborn or transferred over?

So I was right about Takt being some OC f**kboy! They're all OCs! They're people from Japan who died and now are getting to live out their sh*tty power fantasy fanfiction as their equally sh*tty original character! As a source of useful but disposable minions, that's actually kind of brilliant. We saw how bad Motoyasu, Ren, and Itsuki had been at the beginning (with Naofumi himself potentially on that path as well before he was betrayed) and they were chosen by weapons that actually have the world's best interest at heart. Take those same people and have a malevolent entity constantly feeding their egos and pushing them to do terrible things because "it's their right to do so" and "they're the real heroes" and you've got an near endless source of wrenches to throw into the works of those trying to stop you.

Of course, now I just have this image in my head that the World Eater is Aqua from Konosuba. Which would actually be kind of amazing, not gonna lie. A godly being reincarnating otakus from Japan into a new fantasy-based world for a singular purpose and giving them special powers and tools in exchange.

“What if . . . and just hear me out . . . what if this one who assumes the name of a god is somehow responsible for my game knowledge?” Itsuki quietly suggested. That sounded possible to me now. Even if being summoned was the correct process, having some prior knowledge would change your actions once you arrived.

Before, when the Shield Spirit had explained to Naofumi that he was a first pick choice and the other three heroes were their weapons' third picks, I'd theorized as to why and how the final selection ended up. Assuming the weapons were telling the truth about being able to grant any wish once the waves were over, it could be assumed they have some power over reality even in the four's home universe. So I'd theorized the weapons set up a window to snag their picks, with the shield getting Naofumi and the other weapons, by sheer unfortunance, had their picks keep missing the window and thus they became more desperate, thus why their third picks had to die in order to reincarnate because the weapons couldn't leave things to chance anymore.

Now, with the new speculation and info, we can assume the World Eater has some influence over other universes too, including the heroes' original ones. So two new theories come to mind.

The first, and one I find most likely, is that the World Eater is causing video games that are similar to the worlds impacted by the waves to appear in the original worlds of the heroes. In theory, the butterfly effect could cause a chain of events that'd lead to such games existing, so it's not like the World Eater is just dropping them into each reality. It would just need to nudge things in the right direction. If video game knowledge is actually detrimental to the heroes, then that leaves less choices for the Holy Weapons (at least in regards to what their ideal candidates would be) and opens up more choices for the World Eater, since it wants arrogant and know-it-alls like that for vanguards.

The second, which could still work with the first, is that the World Eater is aware of humans the Holy Weapons have their eyes on and is actively sabotaging them. A weapon has a first choice, so the World Eater throws the game or other things in their path to turn them into a less desirable option, possibly even vanguard material.

After all my comments about the recent antagonists, S'yne's sister is starting to grow on me. She's filling a similar role as Witch; manipulating and using people before ultimately tossing them aside. But like the Demon Dragon and High Priest, there is more of an air of dignity about her than with Witch. With the exception of her sister, she's not really talking down and belittling anyone to try and promote her own strength. Like Glass she feels like someone who is genuinely powerful and doesn't need to prove it. How she's using the enemies of the week is curious and perhaps even a little scary because it does feel like she's testing and experimenting and these losses are not really a loss for her. And there's the added mystery Sadeena threw in over what she really wants. Whether bad guy with a bigger agenda or a secret good guy, she's more enjoyable to read about, as opposed to the vanguards where the biggest enjoyment they offer is watching them get taken down, and even that's not much with all the whining and tantrums they have after they're beaten. She's different from Witch and Kyo. She's not completely high off her own power and doesn't refuse to recognize her enemies' strength. Her casually teleporting away for a bit when she realized the battle was turning in the heroes' favor gave a ton to her character.

I'm just looking forward to when she gets a name other than S'yne's sister or Moron Woman. I appreciate Naofumi's completely lack of caring for learning the names of people who don't deserve it, but if she's going to be a serious antagonist or secret ally, a name would help.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/shieldbro/comments/kdwai7/first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_18_random/

#rising of the shield hero #random thoughts #reddit repost

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