#so like no one takes anything i say seriously or earnestly in regards to it

[gaybox]

.

#fr though i feel like socially my entire college experience has just been that #like im the wrong type of gay person im not like 18 yo netflix yearning romance high school movie gay #so like no one takes anything i say seriously or earnestly in regards to it #esp because i want to start like opening up more and having romantic relationships with people but everytime i say what i want or describe #my idk desired dynamics in a relationship? #its like im speaking in a different language and i just wish people would listen and approach things with humanity

[ivystoryweaver]

Based on this request by @whatthefishh: “are you sure? once i start i don’t think i’m able to stop” + Steven Grant 🙈❤️

next | miniseries masterlist | my masterlist

In which you are a simpering mess for this adorkable man

Content: f!reader, Part 1: fluff, pining, bit suggestive, not beta'd - Part 1 can stand on its own, you do not have to read part 2 if you only want fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Steven Grant is something else.

Apparently, he vandalized the toilets in the Egyptian wing of the museum.

And got sacked.

Disappeared for a month.

And is now in your office, asking for his job back.

He has some nerve.

The thing of it is, you feel for him.

That is to say, you feel badly for him. You also feel other things for him. Such as attraction. Really intense attraction.

Which is not okay, seeing how he is several steps below your pay grade, begging for your mercy (ahem, professionally) and you cannot show any favoritism in hiring...or re-hiring, in this case.

"I'll get on my knees and beg, if it helps," he lets out a jovial little laugh, his dark curls rustling against his forehead.

That sentence would have sounded absolutely pathetic coming out of any other man's mouth. But Steven Grant is something else. You almost ask him to repeat himself just to hear it again.

"You see...it's just that you're the only one who's ever really been kind to me," he earnestly explains, leaning toward your desk, elbows resting on his knees.

Dark eyebrows shift back and forth - his brown eyes wide and pleading.

"And...well, I'd hate to take advantage of your kindness - "

Please. Please take advantage. Ugh, your intrusive thoughts are not welcome at this meeting.

"But I'd thought you'd be most likely to listen - you see, I have a disorder - "

"Sleeping disorder, right?" You interrupt, glancing down at his file. As if you need his file. You remember every word he's ever said. One time, he inadvertently let it slip that he used an ankle restraint and that just sent you...

"Oh, that? Eh..." He chuckles nervously, straightening up and scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

This is the day you learn Steven is a system.

All intrusive thoughts and unprofessional desires aside, this is something you take seriously. Steven has a diagnosis now - one you cannot ignore, nor can the museum use it against him. True, the toilets have been vandalized...by his alter. Not by him.

"I'd tell you more about why it happened, but you'd think me absolutely mad," he concludes, willing to share with you about his alter, but not an ancient Egyptian deity. Not today.

"Hey, don't talk about yourself like that," you respond, your eyes shining with sincerity and compassion.

There it is - the kindness you regard others with at all times - the dignity. Everyone has a fair shot with you, everyone deserves to be listened to. Sometimes Steven wonders if you would make a better therapist than a museum supervisor. Or perhaps he simply adores talking with you. And looking at you.

"Thank you," he breathlessly utters, his eyes glowing with gratitude, "for listening to me, I mean. Not many people do...listen to me, that is."

"I don't see why not," you return warmly. "I always enjoy our conversations, Steven."

That's not all you enjoy about him.

"Thank you," he repeats, blushing.

"So...which job is it that you're interested in?"

"Oh! Well, I'll take anything you'll give me. I'll do anything, really. Just say the word and I'm all yours."

Jesus.

Is it hot in here? Are you sweating? Oh god, you're staring. Are you staring?

Clearing your throat, you attempt to move this conversation along before you spontaneously combust.

"I think we have an opening for a tour guide," you inform. "Might be a little better suited to you than gift shop clerk. And it's not under Donna's purview."

"Oh god, really?" He gasps, his shoulders straightening from their typical, cute hunch. "You'd really let me interview - for a tour guide?"

"Of course," you sweetly reply. "We just need to set up a time for you to give me a private tour and I'll see what I can do."

The affection and adoration on Steven Grant's face is something you need to see again. Especially if you can be the cause for it.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Are you sure? Once I start I don’t think I'll be able to stop," Steven confesses, standing with you at the entrance of the museum's Egyptian wing.

Nearly every word out of his gorgeous, kissable lips drives you to distraction.

Feeling uneasy at your silence, he barrels on, "Just don't want to talk my way out of a job, is all."

"No, of course you won't, Steven, please. Go ahead."

So he does.

He talks and talks and talks about everything you pass by. And not just the major displays, but the tiniest bits of pottery, cracked and nearly forgotten. But not by him. His brown eyes glow with intrigue, his hands gesture animatedly.

He knows everything there is to know, even going so far as to point out that one of the name plates underneath one of the smallest, dullest, frankly most insignificant display items - is incorrect.

How has this man been stuck at the gift shop counter with Donna condescending to him daily?

He's actually managed to distract you from your desires - from your silly crush - and really impress you, professionally.

"Have I done it, then?" He sheepishly questions, pressing his palms together as if supplicating, then pulling them close to his chest. "Have I gone on too long?"

"No," you breathe, with heartfelt conviction. "It was amazing. You're amazing."

His eyebrows shoot up as he pushes up on his toes eagerly. "Wow, really?"

"Yes," you nod fervently, grinning at him. "You're hired. Congratulations, Steven."

Squeezing his hands into cute fists, he nearly shakes with excitement. "Thank you. Thank you so much!" And then, as if all his puppy energy bursts out of him, he pulls you into a quick, but strong embrace. The heat of his body electrifies you utterly.

"Oh, god, sorry. That wasn’t professional at all, was it? No. Please don't tell my boss," he laughs, attempting to joke his way out of his blunder.

You're reeling. Where others see an info-dumping nerd, you see a man so eager to please. And so handsome. And smart. How is he single?

"D-don't worry about it," you finally stammer, realizing he's withdrawn his fidgeting fingers to his chest. "No harm done."

"Sorry, I just get...passionate. I mean..." He gestures around him, his eyes sweeping over the ancient relics he knows so well - though his eyes ultimately land on you. "It's all so bloodly amazing, innit?"

"Yes," you laugh, although not mockingly. "I agree, it is. And I think this display is best left in your hands, Steven. I really do."

Taking you literally, he holds his hands up for inspection, turning them over adorably before thrusting them out toward you. "These hands won't let you down, boss."

Steven is still holding out his hands so you extend your own for a professional handshake. "Welcome to the team. Or - welcome back, rather."

The warmth of his palm enveloping your own sends a wave of desire surging through you.

Steven holds on a bit longer than most people would, his gaze falling on yours. "Thank you. Really. You don't know what this means to me. I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you."

You could think of a few ways.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

All my fluffy babes feel free to stop here and don't kill me for taking this suggestive prompt and making it fluffy! My NSFW fans, continue on to part 2 ->

IvyStoryWeaver's 500 Follower Celebration

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven Grant-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#moon knight ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ #steven grant #steven grant x reader #moon knight #mcu #Steven Grant x you #ivy replies #asks #inbox #lovely moots ⋱♡ #Oscar Isaac fic #moon boys #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x f!reader

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 7

@pocketramblr

.

"Hey, Midoriya?" asked Uraraka, after Aizawa passed out a costume revision assignment and feigned passing out.

"Yes?" said Midoriya, knowing that his eyes were preturnaturally wide and fine tremors were running through his body. He was a wreck.

"Are you okay? Why did you come to class with Mr. Aizawa?"

"And what's that you're holding onto?" asked Kaminari.

"Um," said Izuku. "I was sort of... abducted by the support department? But in a nice way... And they gave me this grappling hook."

"Wow, cool! I didn't know we could get stuff like that from the support department."

"You should really read the student handbook, Kaminari," said Iida, pushing up his glasses.

"But it's so long!"

Iida tsked and adjusted his glasses more vigorously. "You're a student! You should at least be familiar with what is expected of you! Speaking of which, Midoriya, do you know how to use that?"

As much as he could learn from a ten-minute crash-course. "... yes," said Izuku, but it was clear from Iida's face that he had hesitated too long.

"Midoriya! You shouldn't have something like that in the classroom without knowing how to use it!" Iida half stood up, and Izuku clutched the grappling hook closer to his chest.

"No! Mine!" Maybe he was too attached to something he'd only had for a little over an hour, but the support department hadn't been able to give him any smoke bombs or flash grenades due to 'new school regulations regarding explosives' and he'd gone through a lot this morning.

Distress washed over Iida's face, and Izuku wondered if he'd accidentally smacked into some old trauma.

"I wasn't going to take it!" he said, earnestly waving his hands. "I just wanted to make sure you knew where the safety-"

The door to the classroom slammed open. "Is that my little brother I hear?" asked a beaming man in a track suit. Without waiting for an answer, he bounded over to where Iida was sitting and clapped him on the back. "I have come to embarrass you horribly!"

From the expression on Iida's face, this venture was doomed to failure. "I thought you were joking when you said you'd see me today!" exclaimed Iida, beaming.

"Why... why would I joke about that?"

"You joke about a lot of things. Like knowing vigila-"

"Okay! Yes, haha, funny jokester, that's me! Now why don't you introduce me to your classmates?"

"Of course! I have been remiss in my duties as vice president." He stood and executed a ninety-degree bow. "Forgive me! This is my brother, Iida Tensei! Also known as the pro hero Ingenium!"

Izuku could almost see his classmates start to put together the puzzle pieces of Chibiida and extremely tall older brother. He was more concerned about whether or not it would be rude to ask Ingenium for his autograph... and to check his analysis page on Ingenium...

"That's me! And I'll be your special guest TA today! Now, where's Aizawa? You're supposed to have him for homeroom, right?"

As one, the class pointed to the giant yellow caterpillar in the corner of the room.

"Oh my gosh, Shouta, I thought you were joking-"

.

Ingenium was, to put it in a single word, cool. To put it in two words, he was unbelievably cool. So cool Izuku was almost able to forget the impending field-trip-related DOOM they were all facing.

But not quite.

So Izuku slogged through his classes, still thrilled to be there and waning to do his best, but unable to truly focus past the crushing weight of what might happen. His classmates and maybe-friends hovered at the periphery of his suffering, clearly wanting to help, but just as clearly unsure how, or what lines they could or couldn't cross, leading them to resort to painfully awkward normal small talk.

Until they sat down for lunch, that is, by which time Monoma and Iida had gotten into a conversational spiral about how amazing UA was, how awesome Ingenium was, and how UA was truly superior for being able to have pro-heroes like Ingenium come in as TAs on such short notice.

"Midoriya," said Uraraka, startling him out of his fourth or fifth 'Kacchan sweep.'

(It was still possible that his bad feeling was related to Kacchan hunting him down and blowing him up. He'd be mortified about making such a big deal over it if that was the case, but it would be preferable to, say, a terrorist attack.)

(Why did he keep coming back to terrorist attacks?)

"Are you... okay? You've just seemed really down today, and-"

"Invisible hug!" shouted Hagakure before grabbing Izuku and lifting him over her head.

There was a beat of whispering near-silence. Then Uraraka stood up, slamming both hands on the table and inadvertently making it float. "You have got to tell me your work out routine!"

Izuku agreed.

("Strawberry," someone whispered.)

.

"I generally say what's on my mind," said Asui as the Iidas had radically different reactions to the bus seating arrangement.

"Aha," said Izuku. The swaying of the bus plus the strain of probably-Danger-Sense was making him nauseous. "What is it, Asui?'

"Call me Tsuyu."

The first time a person his age let him call them by name since kindergarten, and he couldn't properly appreciate it. Figured.

"I was watching the videos of the battle trials I missed last night," Tsuyu continued, "and I realized, I don't think any of us know what your quirk is."

Izuku's first impulse was to lie or redirect the conversation. Years of quirklessness had left their mark. But on second consideration... was there really a reason to lie? He wasn't going to talk about One for All, obviously, but the rest of it was harmless and bound to come out eventually anyway.

"Well," said Izuku, adjusting the fit of his air filter self-consciously. "That's a good question, actually."

"If you're keeping it a secret, I won't press."

"No, no, that isn't it!" Yes, it was. "It's just that, um, it's really subtle? As in, so subtle I thought I was quirkless until recently. Haha."

"Oh, wow," said Kirishima, "that must have been hard. I mean, I got teased for having a boring quirk, I can't even imagine-"

"Your quirk isn't boring! It's more than enough to be a pro!"

"But what is your quirk?" asked Monoma.

"Um," said Izuku, "well, we're not entirely sure, but... We think it lets me sense things that are dangerous? But I've also got anxiety, so..."

Monoma was frowning, but before he could speak, one of Hagakure's gloves waved frantically in front of his face.

"Is that how you knew I was there?" she asked. "In the battle trial and the entrance exam?"

"Maybe? I think so?"

"You were kind of anxious this morning," said Uraraka, concerned. "Did something bad happen to you?"

"Not- not yet," said Izuku, weakly. "It- We still don't really know how it works, so it could just be the anxiety..." He trailed off. Everyone was kind of staring at him. He pressed back against his seat, wishing there was somewhere to hide.

"Well!" said Uraraka, suddenly pumped up. "We'll just have to keep an eye out! We're hero students, aren't we?"

There was a general cheer of consensus and Izuku managed a shaky smile. So, this was what it was like to have friends.

Eventually, Mr. Aizawa told them to calm down, but there was no heat in the scolding. Maybe, Izuku thought, past the ever-increasing buzzing in his head, today would be okay after all.

.

"Yeah," said Hikage, "there's really no chance of that."

.

The Unforeseen Simulation Joint was an incredible space!

Space Hero Thirteen was about a thousand times cooler in person than on TV!

All Might, in his golden age rescue-specialized costume, looked like he'd just stepped off the pages of a comic book!

But just like Tsuyu's name, Izuku didn't have the ability to appreciate it.

As the other students marveled over the USJ, Izuku watched the adults quietly talk to one another. It seemed to be something serious.

.

"Did you find anything else with the safety checks?" asked Shouta.

"A few of the areas had the difficulty set too high- apparently some of the third-years decided to get some practice in and their supervisor didn't reset everything. Other than that? Nothing." Thirteen shook their head. "No signs of structural failure, no security gaps. Everything seems, well, normal."

"Well," said All Might, "whatever happens, we're prepared!"

Aizawa seriously doubted they were prepared for anything, but the most obvious, most likely things? Yeah.

"What do you think, Ingenium?" he asked.

"Everything looks fine to me," said Tensei, shrugging. "But if it was something obvious, then it wouldn't be so much of a threat, right?"

"We're still not sure how Midoriya's quirk really works," said Shouta. "It could be a threat just to him." He sighed heavily.

Tensei smiled in a way that just about guaranteed Shouta would be teased about this later.

"Well, I'm going to start my speech now!" said Thirteen giving the others a thumbs up. "Wish me luck!"

.

As soon as Thirteen finished their (surprisingly moving) speech, all of Izuku's attention zeroed in on the air next to the fountain. A swirl of dark mist appeared next to it.

Izuku felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Mr. Aizawa-!" But he was already looking in that direction, already watching the man made covered in emerge from the dark hole, followed by a veritable horde of villains.

And Izuku didn't use the term villain idly here. Several of the people he saw were on wanted lists.

Ironically, now that he was faced with real danger, the panicked siren in his head eased off slightly. Evidently, at least some of the strain had been fear of the unknown, and now the threat was very, very known in the worst way, that particular stressor was gone.

"There he is!" cried the man covered in hands. "All Might! The one we've all come for! Nomu! Get him!"

A large villain with an exposed brain who practically sang with danger charged All Might, who grabbed him by the wrist and flung him away, towards the landslide zone. "Ha! That's not much of a challenge! You'll have to do better than that, villains!"

"Maybe," said a villain made of the same mist as the portal that had brought the others. The large villain came charging out of the landslide zone, none the worse for wear. "Maybe not."

"You might be an elite player, but can you fight the boss and protect the noobs you're powerleveling?"

The other villains surged forwards.

This is when Mr. Aizawa and Ingenium jumped into the fray, and everything immediately got more chaotic. Izuku rapidly lost track of the multiple battles occurring around him - except, wow, Mr. Aizawa was really mowing through villains, wasn't he - that Nomu guy had to have a regeneration quirk, there was just no way - he'd have to write down that villain's monolog as soon as they got out, it might have clues - Izuku had no idea that Ingenium could fly and wow that gave him some ideas for Iida-

Speaking of Iida-

"This is no time for analysis! Hurry up and evacuate!"

Right.

"I won't allow that."

Yeah the misty villain definitely had some kind of teleportation quirk, which made this whole thing even more gutsy. Quirks like that were always monitored by the government. These guys must not care about their identities.

"Greetings," he said, a metal colar slipping into place around his neck. "We are the League of Villains. Forgive our audacity, but... today we've come to-"

A gust of air from All Might's fight pushed the mist villain back. But the move had left him partially unguarded, and Izuku watched helplessly as Nomu pounded a fist into his exposed side-

Nomu knew about All Might's injury.

Oh, no.

Izuku didn't have time to process that, however, as Kirishima and Monoma jumped forward, attacking the mist villain.

The feeling of danger spiked, and Izuku barely registered Monoma's bewildered expression.

"Only students... but the best of the best... yes he was right to say you'd be a threat." Darkness spread like an ink stain from the villain's body. Darkness... and portals.

Izuku slammed into Tsuyu and Kaminari, pushing them out of the way of forming portals. He wasn't able to do the same for himself.

"Begone," intoned the mist villain, his voice echoing all around Izuku. "Writhe in torment until you breathe your last."

The next thing Izuku knew, he was in clear light and falling. From at least two stories up, over the flood zone.

And then he stopped.

.

The ghosts whipped their heads around to stare at Nana. She was sitting on a stool, hiding her face in her hands, though whether it was out of embarrassment or fear for Izuku was unclear.

"Nana..." said Yoichi, softly.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry I saw him falling and pani-"

"What did you do that for!" exclaimed Banjo. "He was only fifteen, twenty meters up! Into water!"

"That's twice as high as Olympic divers go! And they screw up their bodies all the time if they hit wrong!" shot back Nana, other emotions abandoned in favor of rage.

"Uh, guys...?" said Yoichi, weakly.

"Who still watches the Olympics?" muttered En.

"If we had to give him a new quirk, it should have been a combat one!"

"You're just jealous that he has Float and not Blackwhip!"

"So what if I am?" demanded Banjo. "If he had Blackwhip, he wouldn't need that stupid grappling hook gun!"

"So, you admit Blackwhip is just a glorified grappling hook?"

"Better than a glorified- glorified-" He puffed out his cheeks. "I'm going to give him Blackwhip right now!"

"NO!" shouted the other ghosts.

"Banjo," said En, "what do you remember about people who All for One gave three quirks to?"

Banjo went pale.

"Oh, hell," said Banjo. "I'm sorry, I got carried away."

"You can say that again," grumbled Nana.

"But," continued Banjo, "doesn't this mean we can't give him the stockpile?"

They turned to Yoichi, who was far and away the expert on the stockpile quirk. He held up his hands and offered a sick, shaky smile. "We've already started the process of giving him stockpile access. There's... there's really no way to stop it."

Nana started swearing, and even Second and Third looked tense.

"But that's borrowing trouble! Maybe he'll be compatable?"

"With three quirks?"

"It's possible!" protested Yoichi. "I mean, he's- um, he's got One for All? Maybe it's more like All for One than we thought?"

"Disgusting."

"No."

"Absolutely not."

"Never say that again."

"But, again, that's a future problem, unlike the villain attack, which is a now problem."

"I see what you're saying," said En, "but we can't do anything about the villain attack, but we could theoretically do something about quirk troubles. Unless you'd rather watch helplessly while our latest-possibly-last holder is murdered?"

Yoichi sighed. "Okay, yeah, let's take a look."

.

Izuku's first thought was that Uraraka must have tagged him, but he had been way too far away from her for her to do that. Unless she had run at him when he dove for Tsuyu? Tsuyu had maybe sort of been between them...

But, no, this didn't feel like Uraraka's quirk. He'd only experienced it a couple of times, but it felt like falling. This felt more like floating on the surface of a pool.

This was, he realized as he drifted helplessly upwards and slightly sideways, Shimura Nana's quirk.

It would be really, really cool if the circumstances were different or if he had any control over the quirk whatsoever. As it was, he didn't appreciate the way he was getting progressively higher. Hitting the water at his previous height would have sucked, but he probably would have survived. Now? Not so much. So, if the quirk decided to stop as suddenly as it had started, he was doomed.

Beyond doomed.

He'd be dead.

Wait! The grappling hook!

He pulled it carefully out of its holster, making sure to wrap the loop around his wrist. He could get back to the ground with the grappling hook, anchor himself at a decent height and make use of this, or even attack, but if he dropped it...

Well. Doom and all that.

His best bet was the top of the downpour zone. It was the closest structure by far. He lined up his sights, fired, and watched as the hook fell several meters short.

That was less than ideal.

He rolled over and looked up. He wasn't that far from the ceiling-

Danger Sense screamed at him, and he was falling, just in time to miss getting hit by a jet of water from below. Izuku, naturally, started screaming as well and fired the grappling hook blindly. He rejoiced as a metallic thunk told him it had hit something and immediately hit the stop button, almost wrenching his shoulders out of their sockets. However, his joy quickly turned to horror as he realized he was now headed toward the hard, unforgiving side of the downpour zone at a dangerously high speed. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Float turned back on.

Izuku let out a somewhat pathetic whine in relief, and hit the retract button on the grappling hook gun, letting it pull him up to the roof.

From here, he had an acceptable view of the rest of the USJ. He shaded his eyes to look back at the main plaza and entrance. He could see Eraserhead and Ingenium fighting back to back in the central plaza. All Might and Nomu were tearing up trees in one of the forested areas, and near the entrance he could see Thirteen, Iida, Uraraka, Shouji, Sato, Sero, and Ashido facing down the mist villain. Hopefully, with those numbers, they'd be able to get past him.

Looking elsewhere, Izuku had to assume Todoroki was in the landslide zone, with the spiky ring of ice in the middle of it. He must be holding back. He could make out a fight happening in the mountain zone, but couldn't tell who was involved.

That was more than half the class unaccounted for, including Tsuyu and Kaminari, who he'd thought he'd pushed away from portals. They were probably in the other zones, but...

He took a deep breath. Focus. Where would he do the most good? Danger Sense couldn't tell him that right now, with all these bright threats all around him. He had to decide on his own.

The fight in the mountain area wasn't going well. The number of visible villains was only increasing.

Could Izuku get there? He bit his lip as he contemplated the distance, then jogged back to the opposite side of the downpour zone roof.

Then he ran.

Then he-

-jumped-

-off the roof.

Float activated at the top of the arc of his jump, and his momentum sent him tumbling forward towards the mountain zone. As he approached and began to slow (air resistance still being a thing, apparently), he was able to see Yaoyorozu and Jiro fighting for their lives. Yaoyorozu did not look good.

This wasn't a great way to be proven right about her quirk having drawbacks.

He aimed the grappling hook at one of the larger, closer villains, not really caring about how much damage it would do, and fired.

.

"Wow," said En. "Kid definitely has a bit of a ruthless streak."

"Imagine how much better he'd do with Blackwhip."

"He wouldn't have been able to get there in the first place without Float."

"Honestly," continued En, "I don't get why Second and Third don't like him. They never shut up about Nana and Eighth being too soft, after all."

"What? They said that stuff about me, too?"

"Yeah, I think they're just unsatsifiable at this point. It's annoying."

"I was much more violent and ruthless than Toshi, though."

"I know."

"Yoichi," said Hikage. "I'm not seeing any sign of additional stress on Ninth's body."

"That's because Izuku is the best."

"Or," said En, "it's because he's only had Nana's quirk for, like, five, ten minutes, tops."

"Or because he's the best. Just look at how he's helped his friends defeat all those villains!"

"Compelling argument," said Hikage.

.

"What- what now?" asked Yaoyorozu, holding herself up with one of her staffs. The mountain zone was littered with various weapons and shrapnel from Yaoyorozu's quirk use. This included a canon. Which was really cool, but seemed a bit over the top... and maybe not the most efficient thing to make, considering Yaoyorozu's limitations.

"I don't know," admitted Izuku. He'd been flung around the field as a makeshift flail/bola by the girls a few times, and was a little dizzy.

He looked back out at the battles still taking place in the plaza. "I think... Maybe we should go down, and make our way around the edge to the entrance. We could pick up Todoroki and see if there's anyone in the ruins zone who needs help-"

Then he saw the hand villain step forward, facing down Eraserhead as Ingenium was lured away in defense of Tsuyu and Kaminari, who had just run out of the wooded area, trailing villains. Danger flared in his mind's eye, and, for the second time in his life, his body moved by itself.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first #danger first au #fic #fanfic

[bpro-cardstories]

Tomohisa Kitakado SSR

2019 ー New Field [新境地]

“Say, Tomo, are you really alright with it?”

『Event: Pirates of Legend (1st - 9th August 2019)』

Part 1

ーKitaKore’s apartment.ー

Tomohisa (surprised): ‘A request for me….. To write a script for a drama series?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes. Because it’s in the form of a competition it’s unknown if your script will actually be used. You were supported by a famous script writer and invited to “co-write” a script.’

Tsubasa: ‘The theme will be “battle”, but outside of this, you are free to write anything.’

Ryuji: ‘Hee, so far there have been writing requests such as columns or comments….. Scriptwriting for a drama series is a first, isn’t it? It sure is an unusual offer, Tomo.’

Tomohisa: ‘Yeah, I honestly was surprised. Why did he nominate me, I wonder?’

Tsubasa: ‘The client is a TV station producer who worked on many hit dramas.’

Tsubasa: ‘It seems that while he was watching Kitakado-san’s appearance in a program,  he took notice of the atmosphere and your speech which was intelligent and had a good feeling to them.’

Ryuji: ‘Hehe. That producer must be watching Tomo closely.’

Tsubasa: ‘He also read the columns published in magazines by Kitakado-san, and said that you have excellent writing abilities and sufficient topicality. Therefore, if you are interested then you are asked to get in touch with him.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘I see….. I appreciate that he even read my columns. And to be valued to such an extent makes me happy.’

Tsubasa: ‘It’s not often that I  hear of said things, so I think he is not simply complimenting you, but they do really like Kitakado-san’s writing.’

Tsubasa: ‘Since it’s a rare change, would you like to try it out?’

Tomohisa: ‘You’re right….. I’m very grateful for the consideration. By going beyond acting there will be a lot of things I will be able to learn through standing on the side of production for one time in the future.’  

Tomohisa: ‘Since I like writing, I’m interested in putting together a story. If I can challenge this, it might be a really great stimulus.’

Tsubasa: ‘If so, thenーー’

Tomohisa: ‘But I will turn down the offer this time.’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh……’

Tomohisa: ‘There are many wonderful professionals in this industry. It feels wrong for an amateur like me to suddenly take part in a competition. If I participate just because of topicality, it’s rude toward the contestants that earnestly submit a script I think.’

Ryuji: ‘........’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Should turning down the offer become an inconvenience then that’s a different matter, however….. There’s no problem I hope?’

Tsubasa: ‘Of course, please don’t worry about it. You are right, because it’s of a different nature than your usual work, Kitakado-san’s feelings are most important regarding this matter. Then I will later inform him of your rejectionーー’

Ryuji: ‘Wait a minute, Tsubasa.’

Ryuji: ‘Say, Tomo, are you really alright with it?’

Tomohisa: ‘Ryuji…..?’

Part 2

Ryuji: ‘You actually…… don’t really think that joining the competition is rude, do you? That thinking is even more discourteous I think.’

Tsubasa: ‘R-Ryuji-kun……’

Ryuji (angry): ‘I mean it’s the truth, it’s like saying you all lose to a script of an amateur’s topicality.’

Tomohisa (baffled): ‘........’

Ryuji: ‘That producer must know that it’s natural that there will be lots of scripts from professionals. As a producer for programs even more so. Yet, he purposely gave you an offer, Tomo. Isn’t it better to think more thoroughly about the meaning of it?’

Tomohisa: ‘........ The meaning of purposely choosing me, huh?’

Ryuji: ‘Exactly. …… It’s true that Tomo may be an amateur in relation to scriptwriting. But doesn’t the feeling to try it out apply to both professionals and amateurs?’

Ryuji (upset): ‘If you seriously are prepared to work hard, then you ought to take this chance.’

(It may be the first time I see Ryuji-kun persuading Kitakado-san about work in such a manner. All the more as Ryuji-kun might feel that this work will be meaningful for Kitakado-san.........)

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘........ Thanks, Ryuji. You’re right, maybe I was a bit conceited here.’

Ryuji: ‘I- I didn’t say that........’

Tomohisa: ‘No, it’s fine. Thank you for making me realize. It kind of opened my eyes. It seems like the offer itself was unexpected for me and my mind didn’t catch up.’

Ryuji (sighs): ‘........ I thought so. It was unlike Tomo to find a reason to not accept even though you had an interest in the offer.’

Tomohisa: ‘Haha, it’s as Ryuji says.’

Tomohisa: ‘........Tsubasa, I’m sorry, but ignore my answer from earlier. Would it be fine if I think about the offer a bit longer? My own feelings included, I want to properly think about whether I have enough time to face the production.’

Tsubasa: ‘Kitakado-san........ Of course!’

Tsubasa: ‘These are the materials for the competitions. I will contact the other party, so please take your time to consider.’ ________________________

 ーAnother day. In the meeting room.ー

Tomohisa: ‘ーーHello, Tsubasa.’

Tsubasa: ‘Kitakado-san, hello.’

Tsubasa: ‘It has been one week since then....... Did you come to a decision about the scriptwriting competition?’

Tomohisa: ‘Yes. I faced myself and........ Came to a decision.

Tomohisa: ‘I want to participate in the competition.’

Tsubasa: ‘........! I’m glad to hear that........ I thought that it was a really good chance so I am happy as well.’

Tomohisa: ‘Thanks, Tsubasa. I got excited when I read the material for the competition and was able to convince myself once again that this is what I wanted to do.’

Tomohisa: ‘Besides, it’s important for us to open up new work fields from now on I think.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu, I am certain that this will be a big step. If you have decided so, I need to start adjusting your schedule........ I wonder how much time you will actually need to write a script?’

Tomohisa: ‘About this…… When I read the materials I tried to write one. Won’t you look over it for me?’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh........ You tried to write a script, you said?’

Tomohisa: ‘Yes. I wanted to test to what point I’m able to write alone. I thought that it’s important to let the producer know what writings other than columns I can produce.’  

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Since I jumped into the world of professionals, this much preparation and readiness is a must.’

Tsubasa: ‘Amazing........ But is it fine that I will read your script beforehand?’

Tomohisa: ‘Of course. If possible, I want to hear your honest thoughts and impressions on it.’

Part 3

(Kitakado-san’s first script........ Just what kind of story could it be.)

Tomohisa (laughs): ‘Since the theme was “Battle” I wrote a story with “Pirates” as the motif, which I associate with the theme.’

Tsubasa: ‘ “Pirates”........’

(So, it’s probably mainly intense action. ........ Oh, it takes place in Japan.)

(........Huh? There are........ no battle scenes. The “pirates” appearing in the story are at the checkpoint that’s on the sea.)

Tsubasa: ‘........ How strange.’

Tomohisa: ‘Hm? Is there perhaps some inconsistency?’

Tsubasa: ‘Ah, no........! This story is very interesting. The appearing characters are charming and the dialogue is lively. It’s possible to become engaged in the story because thanks to your stage directions the scenes naturally emerge.’

Tomohisa: ‘I see, glad to hear this.’

Tsubasa: ‘But ........ This work is different from the usual “Pirate story”, is it not?’

Tomohisa: ‘Haha, that may be true, indeed. Pirates are pirates, but I chose “Murakami Kaizoku*” as the motif.”

Tsubasa: ‘ “Murakami Kaizoku”?’

Tomohisa: ‘Yeah. When you hear “pirates” the image of a group that gloriously steals the treasure with showy swordplay and firefights comes to your mind. But Japan’s pirates........ The “Murakami Kaizoku” are a group that fights to “protect” the important things.’ 

Tomohisa: ‘They seem to have been a group, also called the Japanese feudal lord of the sea, that was working for the sake of “protecting” people’s lives, livelihood, and above all, the peace of the sea.’

Tsubasa: ‘So that is why they do not start a fight by themselves.’

Tomohisa: ‘Exactly.’

Tomohisa: ‘........ Modern and extreme “battles” are perhaps better suited for entertainment and entertainment for drama series. But I think “fights” aren’t not only there to mutually hurt or steal from each other. To protect what’s dear, one overcomes their weaknesses. Everyone faces this kind of “battle” everyday.’

Tomohisa: ‘I want to write the kind of story where the viewer sympathizes and is inspired, even if the time or circumstances are different, is what I thought.’       

Tsubasa: ‘A “battle” that does not leave the viewer behind........ That is incredibly like Kitakado-san. This is why you can feel a soft warmness despite the heart-breaking scenes.’

Tomohisa: ‘Fufu, if it’s how you feel, then I’m happy.’

Tomohisa: ‘It’s worth writing just because Tsubasa said that.’

(To be able to produce such a wonderful script in a mere week, Kitakado-san really is extraordinary........)

Tsubasa: ‘I would like to continue reading your script without a rush, but........ More importantly, I would like to quickly submit it to the producer. I am sure it will be more than what they expected.’

Tomohisa: ‘That’s good to hear. But if this script isn’t what they wished for, then don’t hesitate to tell me, I will rewrite it.’    ________________________

 ーAnother day. During a photo shoot.ー

Tsubasa: ‘Uhm........ Ah, Kitakado-san!’

Tomohisa: ‘What happened for you to be so flustered........ Wasn’t it a different location today?’

Tsubasa: ‘That is true, but there is something I need to tell you as soon as possible. It’s about the script the other day, I received a reply from the producer.’

Tomohisa: ‘........! What did they say........’

Tsubasa: ‘It was praised that the result was beyond their imagination. And they were pleased about the subject at hand, which was like Kitakado-san. Moreover, it will be adopted as a solo script by Kitakado-san, instead of a co-written one........’

Tomohisa (surprised): ‘Solo script?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes! It was decided to make it into a drama, outside of the competition. It seems that it will be in the frame of a two hour special drama.’

Tomohisa: ‘Made into a drama........ This time everything really is beyond your expectations.’

Tomohisa: ‘But I’m incredibly happy about it. I wonder if it’s fine that there are no problems with the content of the script and to receive such a big chance?’

Tsubasa: ‘It looks like there will be some corrections needed, however, they said that they want to go with the content as it is. And........’

Tomohisa: ‘There is more to come?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes. When the production of the drama happens, if possible, they want Kitakado-san to be involved with the castings as well.’

Tomohisa: ‘Me........ Involved in the castings?’

Part 4

Tomohisa (baffled): Is that true? I didn’t think it was possible for me to choose the actors.’

Tsubasa: ‘If you wish, they will move to make it come true as much as possible. For this reason, should you have a performer in mind, do not hesitate to........’

Tomohisa: ‘........ If so, then there’s one person I’d like to ask.’

Tsubasa: ‘Is that so?’

Tomohisa: ‘Since he’s a veteran, it might be difficult. However, when I was writing the main protagonist, he came to my mind. So I was thinking to myself that I would be delighted if he plays the role........’

Tsubasa: ‘In this case, it will not hurt if we let them know! The producer is eager to gather a good staff and performers as well.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Thanks. ........ How do I say, there’s a mysterious feeling I have never felt before. The world I imagined inside my head becomes reality........ The actors and actresses will bring the lines I wrote to life. They’re just ordinary letters, but I’m able to witness the moment they turn into living words.’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu, even I am getting excited myself.’

Tomohisa: ‘Tsubasa, you also read the script, is there someone you imagine to play this particular character?’

Tsubasa: ‘Let me see, I ........ Ah, before that, I have an important matter to tell you.’

Tomohisa: ‘Hm?’

Tsubasa: ‘It’s regarding the casting, they also like to ask some B-PRO members to appear.’

Tomohisa (surprised): ‘From B-PRO, too?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes, as Kitakado-san’s name will be listed, they want at least two other names to be listed as well.’

Tomohisa: ‘I see........’

Tomohisa: ‘........’

Tsubasa: ‘Uhm........ is something wrong?’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Yeah........ I just thought about how it’s a bit troubling, because it’s not possible to have everyone appear, I assume? It’s a given that, no matter who I choose, they will deliver a good performance. And yet, I have to choose from them.’

Tsubasa: ‘You are right........ Choosing among the members does feel awkward. However, this is not about the quality of their acting ability. If you choose them based on whether they suit the role or not, then it should not be such a worrisome matter I think.’ 

Tomohisa: ‘That’s true........ Then........’

Tomohisa: ‘........But, what to do. The role that suits Ryuji this timeーー’

Ryuji: ‘What about me?’

Tomohisa (surprised): ‘Ryuji! What about the shooting?’

Ryuji: ‘It just finished. I heard your talk from the middle on....... Tomo, are you worrying about me by any chance?’

Tomohisa: ‘That’s.......’

Ryuji (sighs): ‘Haa....... As I thought. Listen, do you think I will sulk if I can’t appear in the drama?’

Tomohisa: ‘No, you’re wrong. It’s just that this work is my first script. Since Ryuji encouraged me so much....... Besides, I do really love Ryuji’s acting. So if I am choosing from B-PRO, I want it to be Ryuji after all.’ 

Ryuji: ‘But there’s no role for me, is there?’

Tomohisa (dejected): ‘Uh.......’

Ryuji: ‘Good grief.......’

Ryuji: ‘There must already be a set image inside Tomo’s head. You absolutely can’t stray away from it. I won’t forgive it if Tomo’s important work will be ruined by such a thing.’

Tomohisa: ‘Ryuji.......’

Ryuji (smiles): ‘And in the first place, if I was appearing in the drama Tomo penned then I’d be the leading role, am I right. The content as well must be even more refined.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Heh....... You’re right, When casting Ryuji, it has to be a script that was written for Ryuji.’

Ryuji: ‘Exactly. So for now, concentrate on producing good work. That’s also part of a professional’s work, no?’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Yeah. Thanks, Ryuji.’

Tomohisa: ‘.......Say, Tsubasa.’

Tsubasa: ‘Y-Yes.’

Tomohisa (winks): ‘To be honest, when I was writing the script, there were characters for which members came to my mind.’

Tsubasa: ‘.......! Please let me hear about it.’

Tomohisa: ‘Thanks. Uhm....... This role is heroic, fun and soothing. Since he’s a moodmarker I was thinking of Hikaru when I was writing the script. As for the other role, he comes with honesty and seriousness who doesn’t hesitate to throw away his life for the sake of his comrades.’

Tomohisa: ‘So I think this role might suit Kazu.......’

Ryuji: ‘.......’

Part 5

ーDuring the drama production, at the beach.ー

Lighting staff: ‘Put the lighting a bit higher.’

AD: ‘The last location bus is arriving! With this all the performers for today are gathered!’

Tomohisa: ‘....... It’s the start of the filming, huh. From here on out we’ll earnestly start filming now.’

Tomohisa: ‘.......’

Tsubasa: ‘.......Uhm, Kitakado-san. Are you fine?’

Tomohisa: ‘Eh?’

Tsubasa: ‘No, somehow you looked stiff for a second....... Since we are shooting at the sea all day, you will be hit by the salty sea breeze. If you are not feeling well, please tell me right away.’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘I’m fine. My body is fit and healthy, there’s no problem.’

Tomohisa: ‘But, perhaps....... I’m a bit nervous.’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh.......?’

Tomohisa (pensive): ‘It sure is unusual for me, I agree. I just don’t know it myself really well, this sensation I’m feeling for the first time. I didn’t feel like this when I appeared in dramas....... Is this what you call pressure?’

Tomohisa: ‘A great number of people are working to realize the script I wrote. It’s been like this ever since this project started to move. Seeing the preparation for the shooting before my eyes now....... It looks like I came to realize this fact at last.’

(For Kitakado-san, who usually is the one who calms down everyone, to be this nervous....... It’s also a first for me. The words I should be giving at this time.......)

Hikaru: ‘Uwaah~ I’m so super nervous~!!’

Tomohisa: ‘.......Hm?’

Hikaru: ‘Did you see, leader? The actress who’s standing by the location bus!’

Hikaru: ‘When I was a child I watched her dramas in the morning, she played the mother in it!? I can’t believe there would come a day where I would be co-starring with her....... Aaaah, that makes me so nervous!’

Hikaru: ‘Leader, write down lots of letters of “person” on my hand** I will drink them! I will chug them down all at once!!’

Kazuna: ‘Calm down, Hikaru. It’s not our turn yet.’

Hikaru: ‘Uuh~! I know, but.......!’

Kazuna: ‘Hm, I do understand you though. There are nothing but talented performers around here, it’s nerve-wracking. But everyone should have the same desire to produce a good drama....... Don’t let yourself be swallowed up by the atmosphere and let’s rise together.’

Kazuna: ‘Let’s fight the pressure and move forward, just like our roles.’

Tomohisa: ‘.......!’

Kazuna: ‘Ahead of overcoming your weaknesses, there’s the future. For this reason, no matter how scary it is, even if your legs are tremblingーー You need to walk without stopping.’

Hikaru: ‘L-Leader.......’

Hikaru: ‘Uuuh, you’re so cool~! I’m mesmerized~!!’

Kazuna: ‘H-Hikaru, lower your voice a bit.......’

Hikaru: ‘You’re right! It’s the lamest to lose to yourself! Alright, I’ll also do my best!!’

Tomohisa: ‘....... Haha.’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu....... Hikaru-kun is just as usual.’

Tomohisa: ‘Yeah. Kazu as well as Hikaru, they both are strong.’

Tomohisa: ‘I....... have to become strong, too. I can’t stay like this.’

Tomohisa: ‘If I don’t fight with the same feeling as the actors and actresses as part of the crew, I can’t deliver good work that many people can enjoy.’

(....... A dignified look. Yeah....... I’m sure he will be fine from now on.)

Producer: ‘Alright, it’s time. Shall we gather once before we start filming? Kitakado-kun, come here!’

Tomohisa: ‘Yes, I will.’

Tsubasa: ‘....... Everything is going well.’

Tomohisa: ‘Yeah, then, I’ll be going.’ ______

Tomohisa: ‘....... Tsubasa.’

Tsubasa: ‘Kitakado-san? Do you need something.......’

Tomohisa: ‘No, just....... Thanks.’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh?’

Tomohisa: ‘I’m very grateful that this gives me an environment and opportunity to continue taking on new challenges. That’s why, thank you, Tsubasa.’

Tsubasa: ‘....... You are welcome. The possibilities are limitless. Let us take on all kinds of challenges from now on as well.’ 

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Yeah. Then....... I will go fight alongside everyone.’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes! Please do so, Kitakado-san.......!’

END ______________________

* Murakami Kaizoku (村上海賊): “[....] Murakami Kaizoku was the country’s largest group of pirates. Contrary to the usual activities of pirates who loot ships for money and goods, the Murakami Kaizoku’s primary occupation was enforcing order for the safety and security of navigation, and ensuring orderly trade and distribution in the Seto Inland Sea.[....]” [Source: japan-heritage.bunka.go.jp]

** Writing the letter for “people” (人) on the palm of your hand and swallowing is something like an encouragement ritual in Japan. Perhaps you might have seen it in some anime before, like Shokugeki no Soma, or in J-Dramas. This article explains the history behind this action.

#b project #b-project #tomohisa kitakado #ktkr #myps #card:2019

[phoebified]

very long post ahead about the whole chiyo stuff WRT (with regard to) posts i keep seeing that reference me that are starting to really really wear me out. put in the readmore after i finished the post because it got really long, so please forgive the frustrated start to the post, but also please go into this knowing that what i'm seeing is starting to really tire me out and frustrate me, and i don't exactly feel like people are taking this seriously or attempting to be as fair and considerate to me as i am trying to be to everyone else on this topic. it's really wearing me down. continue ahead (or don't) as needed

EDIT: i realize i am being hypocritical when asking people not to vague me while talking vaguely about posts i've seen, but i'm doing this because i have seen the things i mention here so commonly, more so than i have actually seen east asian people giving their opinion on this topic. which is kind of astonishing to me. i think it would take way too long for me to go through and find each post i reference and directly respond to it, and i don't want to do that on posts that are already being vague about me, so i will be vague and indirect right now to clear up all the confusions i can think to clear up in one go. i hope this is acceptable.

okay i kind of don't feel like explaining myself anymore because i feel like i have thoroughly and very fairly explained my points on chiyo, and i am also, contrary to popular belief, not the only east asian person who has brought up the points i have about chiyo relying on stereotypes as a character?? i don't know why i keep seeing people saying they've only seen two or three east asian people talking about this, or why i see people acting like there have been east asian people who have 100% disagreed with me or something. NTM that if they've only seen "two people" talking about this subject, if they would just go to my blog, since they're already talking about me, they would see plenty of other insight from other east asian people. i had one disagreement with someone, and then we cleared it up, because the wording on a post wasn't the best and we both became confused, which ended up being a mistake on both our parts, and we cleared it up and both agreed, if not in different ways, that chiyo was unintentionally not very good representation, if not with variations on why we thought she wasn't great rep. that's fine, again, i've said no one has to agree with me totally, and i've said before many times i'm just pointing out what i've noticed, not passing final judgement or anything like that. i've also said i don't speak for all japanese people. i've also stated i want people who agree with what i've said to think on it as well, and also have stated that it's good exercise to also think about what some alternative solutions are.

but i'm starting to get baffled because i'm, like, the third east asian person i've seen who has outright said "hey yeah she's very much a stereotype". i'm not saying we're right based on majority, but the amount of posts i've seen directly vaguing me and my opinion and then saying "but i can't say for sure i'm not a POC" are starting to make me feel very frustrated -- especially the posts that keep saying "don't just listen to this one person, get multiple opinions". especially considering that they seem to imply that the people who are sharing what i've said and expanding on some of the points i've made are somehow blindly following what i've said. i understand that in small online communities like this, blindly following an opinion because you want to be a good ally can be a problem, but i can earnestly say that i do not think that's an issue here! especially considering that i keep encouraging people to think about why they agree with me first. so consistently seeing posts encouraging everyone to take my opinion with a grain of salt, when KNOWING that they are talking about MY opinion, as if i have not already encouraged the people engaging with me to think about these points first, feels very targeted and frustrating, and it's sort of making me regret ever saying anything in the first place.

i do not know anyone who has expanded on/shared my viewpoint who has tried to drown out other people's opinions, or blindly agreed with me, as i've had many talks to clear up confusion with many people in the last several weeks. however, i HAVE seen white people dissuading other white people from "only parroting" my, SPECIFICALLY MY opinion. which is frustrating, because i am being vagued, however unintentionally, as "the only person getting their opinion spread", and i've seen multiple posts saying this. i've also seen a few other posts that also have vagued me straight up just disagreeing with me in very flippant, discrediting ways -- and so far they've only come from white people. i'm not trying to imply racism, but i am begging for people to please have a care with how they respond and react to me when i'm trying to discuss (unintentional) racism in a constructive manner. also, i have seen several other east asian people chiming in with their own posts and replies giving their two cents, separate from mine, with additions that i have forgotten to add in my posts and posts i've added on to. i appreciate their expanding on my points! i wish more people would see the points they've made, too, so they can have a better grasp on why i take issue with the things i've taken issue on. this is making me wonder how many of these posts are actually saying "get multiple opinions" to be fair WRT opinion, because shockingly, i have not seen ANYONE making posts like this actually sharing the opinions of the other east asian people i have seen -- or even my opinion. i've only seen them say "don't believe everything immediately". i hope you can imagine how frustrating and hypocritical this seems to me. considering the whole thing is "get multiple opinions, share everyone's opinion equally, don't just reblog anything", i do not understand why this is not actually happening. to be quite honest, the posts i've seen in this vein have not read to me as posts that are attempting to encourage hearing out all people of color. to me, it feels like people are just trying to stop this discussion altogether. this might be me misinterpreting, but please try to see it from my point of view.

i would also like to say that i have YET to see another east asian person flat out disagree with me! so i am very confused on what some of these posts are talking about. we have had discussions and wording disagreements/discussions on nitpicks that i can understand and see the merit in, but none of us have flat out disagreed with one another as far as i can tell. if anything, i've seen them say "i agree that she's not good representation in this area, but i don't think it's on purpose or for money." or, "i agree for the most part, but i think she could pass as just a decora girl, and i don't think her name is a big issue as it's well picked." the first one was a misunderstanding that became cleared up, because my wording wasn't very good -- again, i do not think chiyo's design is INTENTIONALLY racist -- and the second point is one i absolutely see the merit of and have shared on my blog. however, i have noticed that my opinion (which i have very purposefully tried to leave open in a way that shows that while i take issue with chiyo's design, it is not the end of the world, and it's just something i want to point out) and the posts and replies by other east asians i've seen that are saying what i've been saying, which is that chiyo is bad representation of a japanese girl that relies on very tired and overused stereotypes, have NOT been shared on the blogs where people have said not to only share my opinion. i know i just said this in the last paragraph, but i want to emphasize it, because it is confusing to me and very frustrating. i do not understand the purpose of saying "get multiple opinions" if there are not actually multiple opinions being shared. when posts like this come from blogs of people who are not actually contributing anything to the discussion, or boosting all the voices of east asians like they say everyone should be doing, then i have to wonder why they were made in the first place. it certainly does not feel like they're made out of a desire to genuinely boost the voices of POC, or they would... do that.

also... please, i am begging you, if you are a white person, please, please, PLEASE do not assume that the overlap between specific groups of east asian people and specific issues that are pointed out with chiyo as a japanese character that has fallen into many japanese stereotypes are going to be immediately apparent to non japanese east asian people. there is overlap with how our communities and culture are treated! that does not mean a person who is not japanese but is east asian will immediately be able to understand what i am talking about WRT to her appearance and the stereotypes i see just because we are both east asian. usually, the reason east asian people get the same treatement is BECAUSE of racism, or because people who aren't us frequently confuse us with one another. it is not because we are actually from similar cultures, and each of our cultures have very specific ways with which they are viewed, and we all have our specific stereotypes that have been made up about our cultures.

please do not assume other people even from asia are going to have the same viewpoint as east asians. i know i certainly could not personally tell you anything about the struggles of central or south asians, and i don't know what southeast asians go through personally. i do not have any PERSONAL insight on the stereotypes a chinese character might have about them beyond ones i can recognize as being similar to the stereotypes of my cultures, which is to say ones that i can understand comparatively, and their origin from western cultures. this isn't to say i can't understand the issues of my fellow asian people, not at all, but it is saying that our experiences are all going to be vastly different from one another. someone from west asia or northern asia or southern asia are not going to have my experiences, and i will not have theirs. asia is huge. i'm not saying we can't go to bat for one another, or even that east asians can't share opinions on east asian characters derived from a different culture, i'm just saying that i am not only speaking as an east asian person, but as someone who is japanese. i did not start criticizing chiyo's design from an east asian standpoint. i started from a japanese standpoint. it's just that i have used "east asian" broadly, as there are frequently overlaps in how our cultures are treated by people who are not us when said people are making characters based on our cultures. i hope this makes sense.

please do not assume that people of color are going to innately understand one another's experiences. and please, please, please... please understand that POC stands for "people of color" or "person of color". this is not meant to be a roast or anything, or a judge of anyone, trust me! i see this on tumblr all the time -- like, ALL of it, so don't feel bad, because i just assume people don't know or haven't thought about this or english is just hard, but please stop using POC as an adjective. i have seen it used this way quite a bit so far, and it's very alarming. the term "people of color" was invented to circumvent people using negative terms for us. using POC as an adjective in front of people, characters, etc... it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

finally, i understand where many of these posts are coming from. i also want white people to hear all of the opinions of the other east asian people in the fandom! i also do not want white people to only repeat what i say, i want them to consider my argument on the topic and why i say what i say. i fully encourage east asian people to join me in the discussion if they want to, or to stay out of it if they wish, and i want white people to boost their voices as much as my opinion has been shared. i want nothing more than for my fellow east asian people to feel comfortable sharing their opinions, and i hope they feel comfortable hearing mine in return. but in return, i also want my opinion to be genuinely considered and shared ALONGSIDE the opinions of the other east asian people who have been discussing this. i have done my best to respond to, discuss, clear up confusion with, and share the other points i have seen about this topic on my blog. this should make it very easy to see where the discussion on the topic has gone since it has begun. this should make it easy to actually share some of the opinions other east asian people have given so far, be they reblogs, misunderstandings that have been communicated through, standalone posts, or replies to posts made.

i understand the worry that white people will simply follow blindly. i have made careful effort to be as fair as i can be and to encourage people to think my points through with me rather than just parrot me. i encourage people to not jump to conclusions. however, i am very tired of being touted as "the only one getting my opinion shared" when i am trying to have actual conversation about why i believe what i believe, and am trying to share every other east asian opinion i have found, and to explain why my opinion differs from theirs if we disagree on something. if white people following unthinkingly has become such a big issue, i don't see why the posts i've reblogged that is discussion between or has points from other east asian people are not being shared more.

and frankly, i'm very tired of being vagued about. many of the posts i've seen made about my opinion or the people who share posts i've weighed in on say things like "no disrespect but" or "it's not up to me but" and then proceed to have a very flippant and uncaring tone, or weighs in after saying they can't really say anything one way or the other. this may seem like not a big deal, but i put a lot of effort into making my opinions easily understandable to people who have not had my experience in life, and it really frustrates me that so many of the posts i've seen that have directly vagued me with specific details have been so... well, frankly disrespectful, and that so many have taken my arguments out of context, or misconstrued them. i feel like nobody is really hearing what i'm saying. i understand that some of the posts that reference me or what i've said aren't necessarily about me, and are more... disagreement with... i guess other white people sharing said opinion, but please don't forget a person of color, a japanese person, has made those points first, and with careful consideration so as to not step on anyone's toes, even when i feel that mine are being stepped on. i request that if you disagree with the conversations i've started, you feel free to weigh in, then. but i also request that people please not continually make posts about me that i end up finding randomly when i'm just trying to browse through SSO content. it's really upsetting, frankly! i don't like being vagued, it makes me feel paranoid, and i've tried to make the conversation as open as possible and respond to people directly and politely, so if you feel free to talk about my opinion/what i've said and then say "well it's not a vague", please just consider talking directly to me.

originally my gripes with chiyo were just supposed to be gripes i shared with my mutuals and people i respect on SSOblr, so i hope you can imagine how jarring it is, as a rather small SSO blog, to suddenly see posts talking about me in vague terms, or misconstruing my points. i am trying very hard to be fair in the execution of this conversation, i want people to feel free to communicate with me in an open way. i don't mind explaining my points or what i think is wrong with the design so far, but please do not vague me any more. it's very upsetting to me. i hope you can understand.

#please forgive me if any of this doesn't make sense or seems accusatory. but i feel as though i have been greatly misunderstood #and nothing frustrates me more than people having the wrong idea of me or something i'm trying to say. i always want to be a fair #and balanced person. but i am also very very very tired of being vagued however indirectly because it does not feel like it is #genuine critique of other white people and calling for them to do better. it just feels like a guise to shut down actual conversation #and even if it's not intentional constantly seeing myself referenced in posts saying 'don't listen to just anyone i mean only one person #has really even said anything' is like very mentally taxing. please stop and if you feel the need to you can weigh in on my posts or posts #i have added onto and you can boost some of the things other east asian people have said. but the way i've been seeing people go about this #is starting to be very taxing on my mental health as a person of color who is trying to talk about racism #i know it's not intentional but i'm starting to feel like people just don't believe me or don't want to hear me out or think i'm somehow #trying to control the narrative or drown out other people's opinions when i have directly stated multiple times the exact opposite #and for the record. this is a personal post. #just in case this like. blows up or something when i'm not on tumblr #also i said on a post i didnt wanna talk to people who disagreed but what i meant is i didnt feel like defending my point to people who #entered the conversation thinking i was wrong with no intention of changing their mind and i was upset i was already seeing posts directly #vaguing me and at the time i saw people discrediting me and implying they would know more about japanese stereotypes than me and they were #white. and it was very like. okay everyone has a voice but maybe dont try to ignore mine for the favor of yours. please dont speak over poc #its already difficult to talk about this stuff and get taken seriously.

[primergon]

Hey there!! It’s the anon that you matched up with Velocity in one of your latest posts! I’m a little late in sending this in due to some issues with tumblr (the app decided that your blog didn’t exist at all for some reason) but I just wanted to send in a big, heartfelt thank you for entertaining the matchup request I sent in!! I was seriously blown away by the details and effort you put in and your timing was impeccable as it really cheered me up after a rough day at work :,) You put so much thought into everything and I can’t help but wish to see how you’d tackle a matchup with a male bot for me too, if you would at all be willing to indulge me?

I was really surprised that I got paired up with Velocity and all the scenarios were so cute and wholesome that I couldn’t help rereading them again and again- I loved the way you characterised her and I’ll definitely treasure your post forever. Not to mention, it was my first time requesting a matchup anywhere so I was kind of shocked when I got the notification for it 💀 Thank you so much for putting in the time despite being busy and for this blog in general. Your writing really does lift my spirits!

My rambling aside, I was wondering about your opinion on fan gifts and if you’d like a piece of transformers related art? It could be an OC, a favourite bot or even just your persona if you’ve got one, anything at all. I’ve seen some blogs that are uncomfortable with surprise gifts and such, so I thought I’d check with you first to make sure. I just wanted to thank you in some way for responding so earnestly, so please do let me know what you think! If you aren’t up to receiving them, though, it’s absolutely okay! I simply wish to convey how grateful I am, so think of this ask as fan mail that you aren’t obligated to reply to/engage with.

- A very thrilled anon (ง’̀-‘́)ง ✨

A/N : Hello Anon !! Thank you for taking the time out of your day to write this for me, it does mean a lot! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ I'm so glad you enjoyed my work and I do try my best to put in as much detail as I can to make every matchup feel special. I'm sorry you had to go through a terrible day at work, but it warms my heart to know I can help make your day a bit better (｡𓎆 𓎺 𓎆)

Of course! I'd love to indulge you therefore I'll match you up with IDW Rung!

01| Rung is inherently a creative nurturer with this drive to help others. That is why he's the best mech to go to whenever you have trouble expressing your feelings. Rung is patient and encouraging, giving you this safe space that allows you to vent and understand your emotions. He's more than happy to take the first step forward for you. Whenever you isolate yourself, Rung would come looking for you, offering you his help. His concern for you extends professional barriers as he regards you as someone special to him. This sense of comfort and trust was one of the many reasons why your friendship eventually turned romantic.

02| He admires your love for philosophy. Rung is also one for literature and art, so conversation was easy between the two of you. You'll often visit him in his office to spend time together and it warms his heart to know that you approach him for company ( a lot of people only tend to go to him when they want something, so it was a nice change of pace.) You'll be reading to him your latest poem while he assembles his miniature boats. You like how versatile Rung was: beautifully handling topics that most people can't usually stomach. Thanks to you, he has started to open up as well. While sharing stories of his past with you, Rung's eyes were bright and loving.

03 | Although you are subtle with your show of love, it doesn't make Rung cherish you any less. The reason you make such a good pair is that Rung is good at reading people. He knows you're sincere every time. Both of you are more on the bashful side of showing your affection so there's a lot of blushing and stuttering. But once the initial awkwardness wears off, physical touch comes naturally. When in Swerves, the two of you will be holding hands under the table. Rung giving you silent support whenever you start to feel too overwhelmed with the crowd. He also likes stroking your cheeks and holding you close, always delighted whenever you give him handmade gifts. He tries his best to return the gesture: Rung occasionally surprising you with a bundle of novels and books he got from shore leave.

04| Speaking of shore leave, Rung would always take you to the local market to explore the foreign planet's culture. He was more than happy to go on a culinary journey with you even if he can't eat anything, as long as you were enjoying yourself that was more than enough for him. He makes sure to always keep an eye on you because he knows you like to wander around. To avoid being separated, Rung would insist on linking your arms together. Or when he does not have his mass displaced, Rung would carry you away from the commotion. Smiling at you in his arms ( he likes how you make him feel strong, although he's too shy to say it aloud.)

05| Arguments between you and Rung were almost nonexistent. As natural peacemakers, both of you loathe conflict. Yet, when problems arise, Rung isn't the type to shy away from them. Your perfectionism paired with Rung's sensitivity towards criticism may lead to a few disagreements. But it's nothing you both can't handle, especially when no one is better than Rung in finding a win-win solution.

06| Spending time with you is something Rung looks forward to. He loves watching you do art and is supportive of your passions, knowing you'll do great things in the future. Although Rung prefers your taste in historical fiction and comedy, he would sit through horror movies for you every once in a while. Rung has a difficult time accepting the love he deserves. For eons, he's spent his life alone. Now, Rung is more than happy to share it with you.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this anon! Also thank you for the offer on a fan gift (≧∇≦). I am open to fan gifts but you are not obliged to give me anything in return as I am more than happy to give this matchup !! (ˊ•͈ ◡ •͈ˋ) However, if you'd like, I will be more than happy and honoured to receive your present !! I'm very touched, thank you! We can talk about it further in the Tumblr chat or you can drop by my Instagram ( @/primergonn) for a dm. Or you can choose whichever is best for you and I'll follow. Thank you so much for the sweet offer Anon! I'm really thrilled <3 ＊*♡( ⁎ᵕᴗᵕ⁎ ）

#rung #rung idw #idw rung #transformers #transformers idw #idw transformers #idw matchups #matchups #matchups idw #transformers matchups #mtmte #lost light #mtmte matchups #matchups mtmte #tf imagines #tf imagine #idw headcanons #idw imagines #idw imagine #transformers scenarios #reader inserts #reader insert #transformers reader insert

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 140

And here we have the last chapter of the Food Festival!  This is one part I was pretty excited to write - The Closing Costume Party.  I wouldn’t have been able to get this one squared away without @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog... Both of you caught a few things I didn’t that kept it from making sense from a reader perspective. So thank you both, very much.

I growled softly to myself as I twisted my arms behind my back to pull on my costume. Normally, I was more than flexible enough, but the amount of leverage I needed right now just wasn’t happening unless I was willing to seriously dislocate something. Dropping my hands, I frowned as I jiggled my arms a little to work feeling back into my elbows.

“You really should have fitted this sooner than now,” Conor laughed against the back of my head as he pulled the laces tight on the blood-red corset.  Getting one made while laying low and avoiding Hannah had been a nightmare, but it was going to be worth it. I just knew it.

“You just wanted to see me try this entire costume on sooner,” I joked as I felt everything fit snugly - but not too tightly - into place.

Maverick flicked a lock of my hair over my shoulder and positioned it just-so. “It’s not his fault that you couldn’t fit this over your scrubs and have it work for tonight.”

“Who wants to see a corset over scrubs?” I scrunched my nose at the thought while smoothing my sleeves and adjusting my collar. “So far so good?” I asked, slightly louder.

As a credit to their maturity regarding the matter, both men looked me over earnestly before glancing at each other. Conor finally broke the silence. “Aren’t the slits in the skirt a bit… high?”  Maverick whispered in his ear, and an expression of utter comprehension glowed on his face. “Oh! That’s… Love, that’s clever.”

I grinned hard enough to cramp my jaw. “Thank you.”  Despite how daring the outfit looked, there was exactly zero chance of any wardrobe malfunctions more serious than a hole in my stockings  - a near-indestructible nude bodysuit under everything made sure of that.

“Your turn, now,” Maverick insisted, eliciting a groan from Conor, who he had turned toward while brandishing eyeliner.

“Isn’t it bad enough I let the two of you do this?” He gestured at his hair, which was styled within an inch of his life and would sustain an EF4 tornado with minimal loss of glitter.

“Nope,” I popped, still smiling as I sat down to put on my boots.  Parvati and Hannah had envisioned tonight to be a sort of return-to-our-roots in a very feral, primitive way, complete with costumes. “We’ve been imagining since before we could cook,” Hannah had pointed out.  Between that and the multiple hints that I wasn’t capable of costuming myself, I had gone a bit more over the top than I had originally planned. Hence the corset, the boots, Conor’s hair… although the leather pants the guys were wearing had been decidedly Maverick’s idea and I resisted the need to fall at his feet in gratitude.

Once we were finally costumed, we managed to arrive just-fashionably late to the last hurrah of the Festival. I don’t know who gaped harder - us at the party, or the people who managed to recognize me when they saw me leading the men in. Parvati’s incredible, winding mural was noticeably weathered and patchy, giving the overall atmosphere a post-apocalyptic feel.  The only noticeable lighting came from the braziers, and deep, almost subsonic music thumped in my chest, driving my adrenaline just high enough to overwhelm my anxiety.

My nose led us over to the first stall of the night, the smell of charring meat fitting the tone. Per a previous discussion around our costumes, I did not reach for anything but instead Conor took my portion and fed it to me - his idea, this time, though Maverick had readily agreed. It was just enough to set off a few murmurs before I heard a familiar laugh cut through the air.

“Councillor Reid!” Jokul’s voice crowed, turning our heads his direction. Warmly, he clasped my hands when offered, trembling with the laughter he was trying to suppress. “This is an unexpected but pleasant surprise.”

I took a moment to take in his fur trousers and tunic, with rough metal covering vital areas. “The dirt is a nice touch,” I offered, squeezing his hands in greeting. “And Ivan! Well done, sir!”

Ivan rubbed the freshly-buzzed back of his head and grinned. “He actually already had the furs, I just made the armored parts.”

“I meant all of it,” I admonished softly, waving at his work throughout the event.

“Antique, yeah?” Conor asked, gesturing to the furs both of them were wearing.

To his credit, Jokul scoffed. “Absolutely not. Quality synthetic.”

“Don’t let Hannah find out.”

A silver brow arched high enough to impress even Tyche. “Who do you think I commissioned?”

“Clever boy.” I winked at Ivan, eliciting a grin.

In response, Ivan did a runway-twirl, his fur kilt flaring just slightly. “What do you think, Councillor? Can I pull it off?”

With the cheekiest grin my soul could ever manifest, I stared him down. “I think I am the wrong person to ask that.”  Even in the dim light, I could see Jokul’s face turn bright red.

“I smell goat,” Maverick interrupted, entirely off topic and completely unabashed.

Ivan’s nose twitched. “Oh, you’re right!” Sniff, sniff. “And it’s on a spit! Let’s find it before it’s gone!”

With that, he snagged Jokul’s wrist and dragged him less like he was an easily two-hundred pound man and more like he was a kite.  When I snickered, my former enemy leaned over and murmured “I like the chains, very nice touch.”

I shook the wrist that connected to Conor’s belt and whispered conspiratorially. “Your idea, really.  You were so convinced I was leading the entire Ark like this…”

He had the decency to snort. “Seeing it in reality, I was a complete idiot. But it’s quite poetic, and I like it.”

“Poetic?” I asked as I tried to keep pace in the six-inch heels I had elected to wear.

“Are they chaining you down, or are you leading them by their gonads? Or, perhaps, are they saving you from yourself?” He gave a very pointed look at the delicate chains going from the shackles on my wrists to the links attached just above Maverick’s and Conor’s hips.

“Saving me, definitely.” My confession was unashamed and completely sober, the result of the primal music and smells surrounding me.

“Gods agree, someone needs to.”

I didn’t have time to argue before we arrived at the source of the enticing smell - a Jamaican barbecue vendor, who had oxtails, saltfish, and…

“Grilled goat!” Ivan crowed triumphantly. As he started handing out portions from the dancing, grinning vendor, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that the portion he tried to hand to me was intercepted by Maverick first, and then fed to me rather than feeding myself.

“Not my idea,” I managed around an insanely delicious bite. “Swear.”

“Kink tomato,” he insisted, holding up his hands.

Conor almost choked laughing. “Not our kink either, mate. Just set dressing for the Queen over here.” Taking another bite, he winked at me.

“Ah, Conor’s idea then,” Jokul nodded sagely before erupting in the closest thing to a girlish squeal I could imagine coming from him. “Miss Harper, we’ve been looking for you!”

Shit, I thought to myself. I hadn’t thought of what Charly would say when I discussed this idea with Conor and Maverick, and I was just realizing it was a monumental oversight.  Plastering a smile on my face, I turned in the direction Jokul had shouted - 

Only to be confronted with what looked like a fox with antlers, a rakish Anansi, the Queen of the Dead, a blind healer, and… a walking shrine? I wasn’t sure what exactly Arthur was dressed as, but I could clearly identify a shabby tweed suit, his sword, a tome that I hoped was faux-moldy, breastplate, shin guards, along with various tchotchkes that looked like they came from high-schoolers and were a bit too beat up to be faked.

“Arthur, what are you?” I asked. Where anyone else would find it rude, I knew my bluntness would be either appreciated or ignored entirely.

“The Ghost of Classes Past.” He swept into a near-Shakespearen bow, gesturing at the bits and bobs that adorned him. “Humans protect, and we mourn those we could not to ensure they live on in memory.” The thump of the music did not change, but his costume gave it a sepulchral tone, like a dying heartbeat.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, the antlered fox bounced familiarly before looking at the Queen of the Dead. “You did a fantastic job on their costumes! They look amazing!” Her antlers were, of course, somehow illuminated from below, but damn me if I could figure out how.

Despite the fact that I knew damned well that Tyche wanted to erupt into laughter at the suggestion, she managed to, quite impressively, tamp it down to a savage smile of silver fangs and blood-red lips. Flapping a hand at myself, Conor, and Maverick, she gave her bell-like fake-laugh, fully in character. “Oh, I had nothing to do with this. Darling Sophia and her merry toys conceived it all on their own.  This is the first time I’ve even seen it, darling.” She turned to me, tipping her chin down in respect. “Well done, dearest sister.” Tyche was on peak display, with kohl lining her glowing grey eyes, a black bodysuit covering her from  collar to feet, fitted vest and cardigan vest, all partnered with a skirt that could be ten inches thick or ten miles of ribbon - who knew with all the darting and layers? Not me, but I was surely impressed with what looked like ten miles of black feathers flowing from her waist to her hips.

“Why, thank you, Your Majesty.” I swept my leg back in a daring curtsy, forcing Conor and Maverick to smother their laughter at Jokul and Ivan’s faces.

“Ma’am! Ma’am ma’am ma’am!” Charly demanded as she pulled me upright. “You blushed at the concept of kink night, and here I find you leading your men around by their hips!”

I tossed my hair and winked at Jokul. “They aren’t being led, they are saving me from myself.” To Charly’s credit, I did look one deep breath from embarrassment - a black dress with red trim, sliced from floor to ribs and collar to navel, over what appeared to be just fishnet stockings and cavalier boots. The only thing, visibly, retaining any sort of deceny was the corset sealing me in the dress. To go with it, I sported chunky, silver cuffs chained to both Maverick and Conor. Ducking in, I whispered, “I probably will have to be cut out of this bodysuit, no worries on me flashing anyone.”

“Ooooo… well played, madam, well played,” she cheered, twirling me around, forcing both men to pivot with me, laughing, before  giving me a very concerned look. “How fucking tall are those?” This was clearly directed at my heels, which she was staring at like a shark presented with a steak.

“Six,” I admitted. “But I did pointe ballet for a little while, so… This isn’t that bad.”

Maverick ducked into the center of the circle we formed. “They’re a full size too big to allow for swelling and she has the toe boxes lined with impact foam.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to wear these things?” I asked with a glare that had him standing ramrod straight and barely restraining a laugh.

Tyche, to her credit, patted my shoulder. “While sitting.  Or, if you have to stand, with a platform in the toe.”

“No shit,” I hissed, setting the mummified healer doubling over in laughter. “But I’ve done enough damage to my feet, thank you, so… there may be foot braces involved.” One of which was currently digging in just in front of my heel, which I made a mental note to pass on to the development team.

A thick, French accent set me shaking my head when it came from the very-not-French looking mummy. “Well played, Sophia.  The sling and calf brace design I saw recently get approved by medical?”

I groaned as I realized that of course this was Antoine. Life and Death, forever partnered. “Yesssss,” I hissed. “Grey created the design.” I unzipped one boot down far enough to roll it below my knee, exposing braces above and below the kneecap before running further down. “The weight is distributed throughout the leg, before terminating across the front and back of the arch of the foot, to even out the pressure.”

I could almost see numbers whirling beneath the six-foot-plus candy-pink bowler hat. “That… sounds like it might actually be comfortable,” Coffey intoned. I couldn’t help but grin at the tilt of his hat and the feather arching behind him.

“More comfy than actual heels, yes,” I admitted before deflecting attention as far from me as possible. Which, considering how much weight was normally put on the ball of the foot in heels like this, wasn’t a lie…. “But we aren’t here for this! We’re here for food!”

Cheers erupted, and we set off dragging each other to what bits we had discovered.  The theme of the night was firmly set around protein, grilled if possible, with wicks of smoke dancing through the flickering light along with the thump of the music.  Some were spicy, others unexpectedly sweet. As I laughed, and ate, and sweated, and danced, I could freely admit that there was exactly zero percent chance that I would have imagined this in my wildest dreams. And even better? I could enjoy every second, every smell, every beat of the music. I made a point to wink at each camera I could spot, to the point that, first Tyche, and then everyone else felt the need to comically push down my thumbs-up and cover my face.

Clearly, Parvati and Hannah, who I hadn’t seen all night, were monitoring what they would later discover to be a flying pass on their final exam. 

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[joachimnapoleon]

Colonel Francis Maceroni [alternately spelled Macirone], former aide-de-camp of Murat during his reign in Naples, leaves behind some interesting (and ultimately unverifiable) tidbits regarding the suspicious death of Marshal Berthier. Berthier was killed after falling from a window on 1 June 1815, while watching Russian troops marching through the streets of Bamberg. Whether the fall was an accident, suicide, or murder, has never been proven.

Maceroni was briefly detained in Paris after taking his leave of Murat for the final time (shortly before Murat's departure from Corsica and ensuing execution in Pizzo). Minister of Police de Cazes, who had replaced Fouché, had his private secretary Menars interview Maceroni; the subject of Berthier's death came up. This excerpt is from Maceroni's publication regarding the events leading to Murat's death, published in 1817. (Italics and all-caps are in the original text.)

M. Menars again privately conversed with the minister, and then proceeded to question me concerning a most extraordinary occurrence, of which I have never been able to learn anything further. He began by asking me whether I was at all acquainted with the circumstances of the death of Berthier Prince of Neufchatel. I answered that I had heard he had not met his death* by accident, as had been reported, but that I was ignorant by whose order he had been put to death, or the cause of the order. On my appearing to be acquainted with the fact of Berthier's having been murdered, M. Menars expected that I should be able to furnish him with the particulars of his death, with which he pretended to be quite unacquainted. With an air of the greatest seriousness he informed me, that about (as I think he said) October or November of the preceding year, a great personage had died at Paris, under circumstances of the greatest mystery, privacy, and suspicion. That his death, &c, had been witnessed, and at that time had been known, only to two individuals. He added that the DEATH OF THIS PERSONAGE AND THE MURDER OF BERTHIER WERE MOST PARTICULARLY CONNECTED, AND THAT ONE WAS THE CONSEQUENCE OF THE OTHER. The minister then called M. Menars to him, who returning to me immediately said, "Can you give me any information concerning this affair? Since you seem to know that Berthier did not meet his death accidentally, you most probably know much more." I assured him it was with that circumstance alone that I was acquainted, and that his account of the mysterious death was perfectly new to me.

*Maceroni includes a number of footnotes in this section, but this one in particular is worth quoting. This mysterious unnamed source he is referring to is none other than Fouché, as the second excerpt, from his later memoir, makes clear.

I had learnt the simple fact of his having been willfully put to death, from a personage of great power and celebrity in France, and who was undoubtedly the most likely person in the world, except those who committed the act, to be acquainted with all the particulars.

In Maceroni's full memoirs, published in two volumes a couple of decades later, he expands on this conversation considerably, and also names Fouché (who died in 1820) outright as the source of his information.

M. Menars again privately conversed for some minutes with De Cazes, and then proceeded to question me about a most "extraordinary" occurrence of which I have never learnt the real truth and merits. "Are you," said he, "at all acquainted with the circumstances of the death of Marshal Berthier (Prince of Neufchatel) who was killed in 1814 [sic], by accidentally falling out of a window, while viewing the passing of some Russian troops through the city of Ratisbonne? "All I know of the matter," said I, "is, that his fall was not accidental, as studiously reported, but I do not know by whose order or contrivance he was thus murdered." "Murdered! do you say?" exclaimed De Cazes himself. "Yes," I replied; "I have heard as much, though I know nothing further." Now that the Minister and his man discovered, that I was aware of the unfair means by which Berthier had been disposed of, they evidently expected me to know all the rest of the tragic history, of which they were, or pretended to be, ignorant. With an air of mysterious earnestness, M. Menars approached his visage to my ear, and said, "In November of the last year, 1814, a great personage died in Paris, under circumstances of extraordinary mystery and suspicion. His death was witnessed, and, for a time, only known to two individuals. The death of this personage, and the murder of Berthier, were most particularly connected, and the one was the consequence of the other."* At this point De Cazes called his Secretary to him, and exchanged some words; the latter speedily returned to me, and said, "Can you, or will you, give us any information concerning this affair? Since you evidently know that Berthier did not meet his death by 'accident,' you must therefore know much more." I assured him that it was the simple fact of his murder with which I was acquainted, and that the account of the other mysterious death was perfectly new to me. M. Menars then earnestly requested me to do my utmost to obtain information on the subject, assuring me that I should be amply rewarded for my services.

Here is Maceroni's footnote from this section:

It was by mere accident that I chanced to know the fact of Berthier having been pushed out of the window. Playing at billiards one evening with Fouché and some other men of note, they happened to speak of this death of Berthier, and I heard Fouché, in the course of his remarks, speak of him as having been killed by order. I ventured to put to him a little short question on the subject, which he answered in a kind of pantomimic affirmative. That was all I knew of the matter. With respect to the other death, I was subsequently furnished with the particulars, from no less an authority than an inspector-general of police, who had been charged with the investigation. But the case is so atrocious, of such serious implication upon persons who may, after all, be innocent, and the particulars are of so Udolpho-like a complexion, that I do not feel myself warranted in giving them further publicity, or in mentioning any names.

Sources:

Macirone, Francis. Interesting Facts Relating to the Fall and Death of Joachim Murat; London, 1817. Pages 144-146.

Memoirs of the Life and Adventures of Colonel Maceroni, Vol II; London, 1838. Pages 409-410.

#Louis-Alexandre Berthier #Joseph Fouché #Francis Maceroni #memoirs #Bourbon Restoration #19th century

[nemesis729]

I would love, love, love to read your full thoughts ❤

Okay, *cracks fingers*, sit tight because this may be a beast to type out and it may take a few more rereads and some block quotes for me to do a full in-depth analysis. Translation: I’m going to try to do a full-on essay with this because there’s a lot to unpack.

Really, it all boils down to one thing. Billy has a lot to learn. That’s basically been my thought since Reader called it quits at the gala. 

Since the inception of the arrangement, Billy kept the reader at arms’ length. The Reader was aware enough (due to her childhood, most likely) that Billy would run for the hills if anything resembling emotions and relationships were to enter the equation. So, of course, she decided to settle for what he could give her. Okay, yeah, it’s amazing sex but, after a while, it can leave a person cold if there’s little to no emotion involved. In any case, after the wake-up call, Reader decides that she wants more than the scraps and isn’t willing to settle for what he’s giving her. When she ends it with Billy, he’s completely blind-sided because, all of a sudden, without him noticing, Reader is showing that she isn’t as biddable as he expected her to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if, at the gala, he expected her to fall in line when he had her up against a column. 

Anyway, I digress. If anything, because Reader was easy-going in his eyes and he didn’t care enough to observe her during the almost-year of their arrangement, I shouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t understand why she ended things. Seriously, you can’t just pay attention to what’s being said. You also have to pay attention to what’s not being said. 

That’s kind of what I wanted to rant about for chapters 1 through 3. This essentially sums up Billy’s thoughts on the reader:

Up until last Saturday, you had barely been a blip on his radar. Sure you guys were fuck buddies and he liked your easygoing personality, but the thing he appreciated most about you was that you were low maintenance. You didn’t demand anything from him emotionally and that meant he didn’t have to put in any effort into the relationship.

This, in itself, is very telling. For me, it brings home the idea that the arrangement mostly benefitted Billy. Since we, as the audience, know that Reader felt more for Billy than he did for her, we’re left thinking, “wow, what a douchebag,” about him. Like, seriously, during those months they were together, he didn’t make little observations about the reader? No filing away about what her preferences are? Her tics? 

If you were someone he cared about he may have gone over to check on you or made more of an effort to get in touch but, really, he couldn’t be bothered.

That basically summed up the first arc of Reader and Billy’s relationship, such as it was. And, when she decided that enough was enough and she deserved something more substantial, all of a sudden, she’s interesting and now he wants her. 

At this point, I want to say that the tables have turned. Except, I can’t. Maybe. Possibly. Before, Reader suffered in silence about her feelings where she stood in Billy’s life because she was self-aware and able to read the room with regards to Billy. She knew him enough that any discussion about the future and commitments were a no-go for him. Now, when Reader doesn’t want anything to do with him, Billy wants her. As I previously pointed out in my last reply, does he want her for her or is it a point of pride because she was the one that ended it first and not him?

It’s, as the kids say, pretty sus.

Anyhoo, the latest installment of “A Woman Scorned.” What a doozy. The chapter had everything from tension, UST, and protective best friends. 

Davina is the best friend we all wish we had and what we aspire to be. I love how protective she is over the reader. I also enjoyed how judgmental she was at Billy’s lack of knowledge about reader. Here are my favorite scenes:

“Billy Russo.”

Davina ignored his hand, lifting her eyebrow. “I don’t like you.”

“Clearly.”

“And I don’t like that you’re messing around with my friend.”

Billy stood up straight, concerned. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. She texted me and told me she couldn’t make it. If I didn’t have to host this thing, I’d be at her place right now. I think she’s a bit freaked out.”

He placed his drink back on the bar. “I’ll go over and see her.”

“What do you want with her?”

This time he couldn’t hide his annoyance. “Enough with the third degree. I’m just going to check up on her. Unless you want her to be alone right now?”

Davina’s eyes narrowed. She was gauging him carefully to see whether he could be trusted or not. At first he had no idea which decision she landed on, but the eventual resignation gave her away. “Let her know I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Y/N’s not the type to admit when something’s wrong. With her, it’s like pulling teeth.”

“But she has a tell. When she’s upset, she buys shoes.”

“You’ve been sleeping with her for months and you don’t know what she likes?”

As much as Davina would love to keep Billy from Reader, she knows something happened and she knows a familiar face might help Reader in some way or another. Judging by the resignation, she probably wouldn’t be surprised if reader fell into bed with Billy while she’s vulnerable.

Anyhoo, I said it once and I’ll say it again. Billy has a lot to learn.

It was obvious Davina hated him, which made him wonder if that’s why you’d decided to cut him off so suddenly. He filed the question away in his brain, making a mental note to find out the answer from you at some point.

Read the room, Billy! For someone so smart, he has the emotional awareness of a rock. Maybe he’s thinking with the wrong head? That’s something to consider.

During that time when Billy visited reader, his takeaway should be paying attention to what the reader isn’t saying as well as what she is. At the gala, he pointed out that the reader is closed off. That should’ve given him some sign that there’s something more going on.  

He cocked his eyebrow. “Maybe it’s just you I need to learn more about.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

Right now, if we’re heading towards the official end of the relationship (and, in the reader’s eyes, we are), this is the epitome of “too little, too late”.

“It’s never too late.” His eyes were suddenly intense, in a way you were only used to seeing when he was angry or turned on. “Maybe you can show up at my place one night, wearing that robe, your favourite heels and nothing else.”

Billy is pretty optimistic that they will still be together. Enough said.

“No. You don’t know what I like.”

He leaned forward, eyes seductively drifting down to your lips. “I have a pretty good idea of what gets you off.”

“Yeah, but what gets me off and what I like might be two different things.”

Billy, I like you but you really need to pay attention and take notes! Of course he would be observant on what gets reader off but has he ever observed her in a non-sexual but intimate way? Somehow, I doubt it. 

“You grew up rich, didn’t you?” he taunted, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because only someone who has money would say it doesn’t matter.”

You laughed, chugging the remainder of your wine. If he only knew. “Sure, Billy.”

The fact that she doesn’t say anything more about her family should speak volumes. See the other receipts:

“You have a lot of pictures up,” he remarked. “But there isn’t a single one of you with your family. There’s no sign of them in your apartment.”

“I’m not close to my family.”

“So you and the fam don’t get along?” he probed.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Billy,” you whined, taking a sip of your drink. “I don’t want to talk about my family.”

The reader’s childhood is next-level levels of messed up. If her father was like that, I can only imagine how her mother is. And since she doesn’t have pictures of any of her family, I can say that her mother wasn’t Mrs. Brady. 

One thing I can say about Billy is that at least he didn’t take advantage of reader while she was vulnerable. 

Billy’s jaw was clenched with anger but you told yourself it wasn’t because of you. He was simply pissed Anvil’s competitor was still more successful despite their negligence.

Whether he knows it or not, he cares about her. Knowing the reader, she thinks that he’s more upset on behalf of Anvil as a form of self-preservation. If she were more secure about what they are to each other, she would know that he’s angry because she was in danger. Unfortunately, because she realized that she probably won’t be more to Billy than a bedwarmer, it’s dangerous for her to think that way. 

Still, I have to admit that I liked how he just hugged her. Whether it was in comfort or to lead to something more...that’s going to be a problem in the next chapter. But, in that moment, he sensed Reader needing comfort and did something about it. That might be a smidgeon of growth right there.

Okay, wow, that was way longer than I thought. So, here are my final thoughts:

Billy’s an asshole but he’s our asshole and we love him. Even when he’s earnestly pursuing Reader, he’s still an ass. Reader is more guarded than ever because of the suppressed feelings she had for Billy combined with seeing him with Madani and her insecurities. It’s a horrible trifecta. 

It doesn’t help that Billy’s pursuing her and attempting to woo her when all she wants is distance. He definitely has his work cut out for him because Reader isn’t going to make this easy. Aside from her childhood, she already had a sample of “fuckboy” Billy. She’s familiar with that version of him. And she wants more than a fuckboy. She wants more than that and she knows that Billy can’t give her that more. Naturally, she’s going to keep him at arms and legs length.  

This constant push and pull is highly entertaining and I can’t wait to read more. I’m sorry this review was way too long and rambling but I couldn’t stop once I got going. I hope I wasn’t being too hard on Billy. I feel like I am. (I probably am.)

Love! 

#nemesis responds #queen-haq #a woman scorned #answered asks

[angstysebfan]

My Roommate’s Boyfriend 3/?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your roommate’s boyfriend and you do not get along. You don’t even know why anymore. When your roommate has to move unexpectedly across the country, you both begrudgingly drive her car to her new home. Adventure, angst, and secrets come alive.

Warnings: swearing, Bucky being a big asshole, panic attack, uber angsty

You pull up to an old looking motel. It kind of reminds you of the Bates Motel in the movie Psycho. Bucky could feel your uneasiness and sighed, “We could sleep in the car if you are uncomfortable.” You look at him and see a smirk on his lips. He was making fun of you, which pissed you off. “Nope, I just hope the psycho killer chooses you as their victim tonight. I’ll give Nat your regards.” You say before getting out of the car.

Bucky laughs out loud, a sound that was pleasant to you. “You have watched too many horror movies.” He says as he walks into the office, with you following him. You both walk up to the counter and ask for two separate rooms. “Sorry, but we only have one room available. It has a king size bed though.” The older gentleman said. 

You look at Bucky and see the tick in his jaw. He looks at you and rolls his eyes. “How far is the nearest motel or hotel from here?” He asked, the annoyance evident in his voice. “Not for another 20 miles or so.” the older man said, ignoring Bucky’s attitude.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair thinking of what to do. “I don’t know why a good looking man like you wouldn’t want to share a room with a pretty gal like her.” The older man said, smirking at you and making you uncomfortable. You can’t help the blush that runs through your cheeks. Bucky scoffs, “Beauty isn’t everything. We will take the damn room.” He says giving his credit card over.

Once you are both settled in the room you sit on the bed, back leaning against the headrest. Bucky was taking a shower, which gave you time to think about everything that happened in the car today. Bucky kept saying he heard about what you said. What could I have possibly said? You think back to the entire year of Bucky being in your life, and you can’t for the life of you think about saying anything about him. Except that he is an asshole, but he started it.

Bucky comes out of the bathroom wearing a pair of black sweatpants and no shirt. You can’t help but admire his physique as he towels his long brown hair. His body was a sight to behold. Muscles upon muscles, which made butterflies appear in your stomach. You always thought he was attractive, even when you first saw him. You desperately wanted to talk to him, but Nat showed interest and you backed down immediately. Then you met him and saw his true personality, which surprised you. Though he seemed to treat Nat well.

Bucky looks up and sees you staring at him. “Take a fucking picture it will last longer.” he snaps, causing you to blush at being caught. You grab your stuff and quickly run into the bathroom. After a quick shower, you change into a tank top and shorts. You walk out into the room and notice Bucky was putting on shoes and a t-shirt.

“I’m going to sleep in the car.” he said. You can’t help but get offended that he would rather sleep in the small car than share a room with you. You knew you had to find out his deal, but would wait until morning. “I mean I can sleep on the floor if you want. You don’t have to sleep in the car.” you say, trying to not sound whiney. 

Bucky looks up at you and shrugs. “It’s fine. Us poor city boys are used to roughing it. Be at the car by 5:30 am, or I am leaving without you.” he says as he walks out of the motel. You can’t help but stare at the door after he leaves. You quickly pick up the phone and call Nat.

“Hey Y/N! Where are you guys?” Nat says excitedly. “Hey Nat, we are in Ohio, but close to the border of Indiana I think. Nat, what the fuck is going on? Bucky hates my guts and is making me miserable. I have almost cried three times already!” you say, frustrated.

“I’m sorry hun. Like I said I will explain everything when you get here. Just try to get along, please? It’s only temporary.” Nat pleads. You can’t help but roll your eyes. Before you can agree to her she says, “I gotta go, Bucky is calling me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” and the phone disconnects.

--

You exit the motel, dropping off the key, and enter the car at 5:15. Bucky is sitting there waiting for you. He doesn’t say anything after you buckle your seatbelt, just starts the car and heads off. You continue to think about how to broach the subject of his hatred for you. Maybe after you eat something.

“Did you want to get food, or just continue the trip?” you ask softly, hoping to keep his mood calm. You hear him sigh, “Whatever.” he says dryly. You are surprised by his response, but want to keep him in this mood so you think just driving is safer. “Let’s just drive for awhile, we can stop further along.” you say.

Over the next 3 hours, you listened to your playlist, while driving through Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. You wanted to stop into Chicago, but Bucky just wanted to keep going. He was acting very weird today. Didn’t snap at you, in fact he barely spoke to you. How were you going to ask him anything if you couldn’t gauge his mood. 

You were half way through Wisconsin when you stopped for fuel and food. you grabbed sandwiches and chips for you both, as well as some waters. it wasn’t long before you were on your way again. It was 3:30 in the afternoon and Bucky has barely said 3 words to you all day. You decided enough was enough. You paused your playlist and turned toward him.

“Hey Bucky, can I ask you a question?” you ask hesitantly. He doesn’t even glance at you. “You just did.” he said monotoned. You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” you say. He rolls his eyes. “Fine, what.” he snaps, obviously not in the mood.

You take a deep breath, “You mentioned yesterday that ‘you knew what I said’, and I was just wondering what you were talking about.” you say nervously. He scoffs, “I’m not talking about this, especially with you.” he says. You look at him annoyed, “I was accused of saying something bad about you, and I deserve to know what it is, so I can defend myself!” you say. 

Bucky sighs, “I really don’t care what you have to say to defend yourself. You are nothing but a spoiled prissy princess who judges everyone, even before you meet them. I don’t know how Nat was even friends with you. You are not in the same category in anything; looks, personality, sense of humor. I just don’t get it.” he says, like he is talking about the weather.

You feel like he just punched you in the gut, and it’s hard to breath. You have never had anyone say anything so horrible to you in your entire life. You feel a panic attack coming and you don’t know what to do. “B-bucky, you need to pull over.” you say breathlessly. Bucky looks at you, “I’m not going to pull over so you can throw a hissy fit.” He says. “Bucky pull over!!” You scream. He looks at you again and sees that you are pale and breathing heavy. He quickly pulls over to the side of the road.

You jump out and run a few paces before falling to your knees, sobbing. You have never been so insulted in your whole entire life, and the worst part is, you don’t know why. You try to control your breathing, but it’s getting harder to do so. You feel hands on your shoulders and hear a voice but it sounds far away, “Y/N.... Y/N look at me.” Bucky says softly.

You keep your eyes on the ground, trying to reign everything in. “Y/N, please... look at me, I can help you.” he says earnestly. You look at him with wide eyes and meet his blue eyes, which are currently full of fear. Bucky grabs your hand and puts it on his chest, where you can feel his heartbeat. He starts taking deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth. You feel his breath on your face, as you continue to look into his eyes.

Before you know it, you’re matching his breaths. It takes about 15 minutes or so before you feel better, but Bucky keeps his hold on your hand. You let you eyes drop to your lap, continuing to breath deeply. “I...I’m sorry.” Bucky whispers. You shake your head, not wanting to hear it. “I didn’t mean anything I said. I just...” he stops himself and takes a deep breath.

“The night that I met Nat in the bar, I was actually interested in someone else.” he says softly. You look up at him curiously. “I, uh... I was actually interested in... you.” He says looking away. Your eyebrows shoot to the top of your head, this makes zero sense to you.

“My friend Sam, I think you met him once, went down to the bar to get drinks and overheard a conversation you were having with Nat. You were talking about me and my friends. Sizing us up and commenting on who you would go for. Nat made mention of me and you made a comment.” Bucky scoffs at this and looks at you. You think back to that night when you and Nat first saw Bucky.

Flashback

You and Nat are sitting in the bar people watching. You hear laughter coming from a hightop table near by and take a look. You see a man with long brown hair, the bluest of eyes, and a sharp jawline. You were immediately attracted to him.

“Dibs on the long haired hottie,” Nat whispered to you. You couldn’t help but be disappointed that you and Nat were attracted to the same guy. Nat had just gotten out of a bad relationship, and was looking for someone to help heal her heart. You had been single for too long, and was ready for love. 

You decided that Nat’s need for love was greater than your own and conceded. You didn’t want her to know that you were checking him out, so you played it off like you weren’t interested. You scoff, “If you are into that biker gang, poor city boy type. He is all yours.” You laugh outwardly, but inside you screamed at yourself. You always put others needs before your own. 

After 10 minutes you look back over to the table and notice the long haired hottie was making eyes at Nat. He eventually came over to talk to her, and then she left with him that night. All the while you kept thinking that could have been you.

End of Flashback

You look into Bucky’s eyes with regret and sorrow. How were you going to explain yourself. No wonder he hated you, what you said was out of line and so judgemental. Bucky just looks at you. “Bucky... I.. I am so sorry that you found out what I said. But, you have to know that I really didn’t mean it.” You said, your voice waving from the tears that were starting to pour down your face.

Bucky scoffed at this, “Of course you didn’t. Isn’t that typical.” He says, finally letting go of your hand and walking a few more paces away from you. You stand on your shaky legs and look at him. “Bucky, you have to let me explain what really happened, please.” you say pleading. 

He turns around and looks at you, anger and hurt evident in his blue eyes. “Why would I believe anything that you say? Huh? Why would I?” He shouts. You flinch from his tone, but stand your ground. “Because you just made the same mistake I did. You just said things about me that you didn’t mean. I am accepting your apology, you should at least hear me out!” you shout back.

Bucky looks at you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. That night, I heard you and your friends laughing. I turned around and you were the first person I saw. I never saw a man as handsome as you. I was attracted to you from first glance. I wanted to know you, to hear your voice, and see your beautiful smile up close.” You take a deep steadying breath.

“Nat called dibs, which I know sounds childish, but I conceded. She had just gotten out of a bad relationship, and she is such a good person. I didn’t want to stand in her way of happiness, so I had to play it off that I wasn’t interested in you. If she knew, she would have backed off. I said those things to make her think I wasn’t interested, but my god I was. It’s killed me to see you guys together. Even though you have said cruel and terrible things to me, I can’t help but like you. All I have heard from Nat is how amazing you are, and I can’t help thinking if I didn’t give up so easily... th-that you and I could have been together.” you say this last part in a whisper.

You look up at Bucky, who is just staring at you. “H-how do I know that any of that is remotely true?” He asks. You sniff and shrug your shoulders. “I told Nat the truth 6 months into your relationship, when we were drunk. She felt bad, but by then you both had fallen for one another, so it was too late. You can ask her though.” you say.

Bucky looks at you for what feels like forever. You see the anger in his eyes, that slowly changes. His eyes continue to get softer as the minutes pass by. Before you knew it, Bucky was quickly walking towards you in long strides. He grabs you by the back of the neck and smashes his lips into yours.

--

Previous Chapter  /  Next Chapter

Feedback is appreciated. I’m thinking this will be a smaller series, but we will see what my crazy brain comes up with.

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan​, @jessyballet​, @finleyjayne​, @cap-just-said-language​, @sarcastic-and-cool​, @humbledarkness​

#Bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky x natasha #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #modern bucky barnes

[what-the--curtains]

Alliance

Chapter 9 – The Hunt

(Mando x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: After recovering you set off to find the man who tried to kill you. Killing him proves to be more difficult than expected when the ones you love are threatened, and on the other side of the choice, your own future.

Authors note: One more chapter to go!! Some angst at the end here! Hope y’all enjoy ❤️❤️❤️! (I also did some very average fan art if y’all haven’t seen it yet!)

Tw: sex is alluded to (not depicted), decapitation, force choke

Word count: 4.9k

Tagged list: @crazycookiecrumbles, @seninjakitey

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The planet proved harder to find than expected, despite Anya's best efforts, something was fogging up her tracking causing your coordinates to be constantly in flux. She’d easily lead you past the outer rim, but since then it had been akin to a wild goose chase.

“Any idea who tried to kill you.” Din asks, he'd been exceptionally patient throughout the journey thus far. Never questioning your methods just typing in the new location coordinates calmly and re aligning the ship on its new course.

“Did kill me” you correct, as your hand moves absentmindedly over the healed wound. “but no, I dont. They had a lightsaber though”

“Was it a Jedi?” he asks earnestly.

“Well based on the context clues, I'd definitely say at least Jedi adjacent” you laugh, for a savvy strategist who knew multiple languages you sometimes found yourself questioning if his brain was in fact functioning.

“Why would a Jedi try and kill you?”

“Your guess is as good as mine”

“How do they decide on colors?” He asks after a somewhat awkward silence

“Hmmm” you hum out in confusion, only half paying attention to what he had said.

“The light swords? Ashoka's are blue, yours is purple and the figures, well there's was red” your heart stops.

“It was red?” you ask, sitting up in your seat giving him your undivided attention.

“Ya does that mean something?” He watches your eyes slowly piecing together what he'd just told you.

“That’s impossible, the Sith were defeated. They died with the emperor.” you affirm, your sure red was a common colour used by Jedi nowadays, sure no one had ever seen one before, but there was a first time for everything right?

“So were the Jedi.” he points out.

“Do you always have to be right?” you ask slightly irritated for a reason you couldn’t quite explain. He doesn't respond; he knows a rhetorical question when he hears one but unsure what he had done to upset you. An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air, a sensation you'd never experienced with the Mandalorian before. Not wanting to stew in the quiet you head down to the lower levels and try and calm your frazzled mind. Sitting down you cross your legs, one over the other, as you close your eyes.

On the best of days meditating was a chore, but under the current situation it had become an impossible task. It wasn’t the threat of being ambushed that had you distracted, no something else was playing heavily on your mind. It was what was causing the punctuated silences, forced conversation and overall awkwardness in the atmosphere. It was your own doing. Seriously, who kisses a man whose face they've never seen! Idiots that's who and now it was stuck on your mind. In your defense you thought you wouldn't have to deal with the fallout so quickly. You should have known he’d have insisted on going with you, but you hadn't thought that far ahead, or at all and now you had to sit with the fact that you’d possibly ruined your comfortable friendship by planting one on him. Technically it wasn’t a real kiss,or maybe it was, how did Mandalorians kiss anyways? There you were down the rabbit hole again, this is why you couldn't focus, you curse yourself. Shaking your head you remind yourself it was only done in an attempt to get around him, a strategic move to protect the group, nothing more, nothing less. Keeping that in mind you manage to focus and you feel the galaxy's pulse emitting throughout the ship, inhaling and exhaling with the undulations around you.

Din, bored and missing the usually witty banter you offered him, decided it was time for him to clear the air in regards to the kiss. He hopes by telling you that he knew it was only done to get around him, you’d become more relaxed. The last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable around him. He knew you'd never want to be with someone like him, at least in that way. As he turns around he sees you cross legged floating in the air, not wanting to interrupt he heads back up. Anya lifts her head as he re-enters, looking at him as if she knew what he was thinking. He’ll clear the air with you later, the two of you had plenty of time to talk.

You curse as your journey gets rerouted for what had to be the twelfth time in the past two days. Whoever was hunting you did not want to be found and no amount of swearing or whacking the console would change that. The closer you got to your destination the more you felt the malevolent presence grow. You found yourself wondering if it had always been with you, finding it hard to remember a time when it wasn't gnawing at your conscience. Each time you feel it scratching at your doors you remember Ashoka's words “be careful who you let into your head.” You'd made that mistake once with devastating consequences. You would not be making it again. Your energy was now primarily being spent keeping the presence at bay, not allowing it to penetrate any deeper than it already had. Sleeping only acted as an open invitation for the figure to torture you so you opted to forgo it altogether. Perhaps not the wisest decision, but what other choice did you have.

“The planet’s still a few days away.” Din says, noting the unraveled look in your eyes as you take your place next to him.

“Anything to do on this ship.” You ask, fidgeting in your seat. “like games or something” he doesn't respond “Hey beskar head! You awake under that helmet?”. You ask partially joking, partially annoyed that he wasn't talking to you.

“Yes.”

“Yes to games or yes to being awake?”

“To games” you smile, you never knew if he was actually making jokes or if you were just reading into it. The finer details of his personality artfully hidden beneath the metal exterior.

“Got Dejarik, you know how to play?” he asks, glad that you were back to yourself for the time being.

“I'm alright” you say smiling, you were better than alright, at least you think. To be fair you'd only ever played against one person and she was family and probably inclined to letting you win.

“You're cheating!” he exclaims, his annoyance apparent even through the modulator. Your skills were better than you expected especially after all those years, well either that or the Mandalorian was just that bad.

“How?” you ask, laughing at how frustrated he was getting. It was funny when you beat him the second time, but by gods it was even funnier when you beat him the seventh time.

“The force!” He says clenching his hand as he stares down at the board.

“I don't think the force bothers itself with helping me beat you at Dejarik.” you point out, as he grumbles something indistinguishable.

“Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are.” You tease pointing your finger at him eyebrows raised and a smirk plastered on your face.

“That’s not what I’ve been told,” he responds.

“About Dejarik or?” he laughs it off, but you seriously wanted to know the answer. After Cara told you he was allowed to have sex it was a question that you’d thought about a lot, more than you probably should have, but hey you were curious. Realizing the Mandalorian was now turning the game board over to see if it was rigged, you decide to change games.

“You still got that indestructible spear. The beskar one?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Yes, not something i'm planning on losing” he nods

“Fancy a match?” you offer you needed to work on your fighting skills, practicing on the air only went so far.

“Only if you promise not to slice through my ship.” He says, standing up.

“Only if you promise not to cry when I beat you.” you return causing him to scoff

“Oh im not going to be the one crying” he assures.

You stand in the ship's far corner across from Din who haphazardly twirls the spear in his hand as you open up your saber, raising it waiting for him to make the first move. He stays his ground, you and him were both defensive fighters and you knew he was far too stubborn to change his routine. Leaping forward you land in front of him, your saber making contact with the spear. After a few seconds spent testing his strength you know there's no feasible way for you to out muscle him. You'd have to out maneuver him. He’d seen you fight stronger opponents before so you’d have to think outside the box on this one. You move out from under the spear the release of your counter force causing Din to stumble forward. You turn aiming for his shin, but his arm reaches back the spear stopping your hit from connecting with his armour. You circle round him so you're once again face to face giving him enough time to stand back up. He turns quickly, swinging the spear as he does, aiming for your waist. You jump over the swipe landing behind him, hitting him in the back.

“Point to me.” you say

“No using the force” he says, turning to look down at you, his presence suddenly looming.

“I wasn't, I can just jump really high!” You lie.

“Likely story” he says brushing past you as he moves back to his starting spot

“What was that I said about crying earlier?” you question.

He's got you talking too long and he sweeps your feet out from under you knocking you on your ass and gently tapping you on the head with the spear.

“Point me” he says, offering you his hand.

“That was dirty” you say as he hoists you up.

“Who says we're playing clean sweetheart?” The term catches both of you off guard, but he's flustered himself more than you, allowing you to land the next two points.

“Hope your ego isn't too hurt darling.” you mock back at him as metal and light collide once again.

“It’s not over yet” he says, using all his strength to march you back towards the wall pinning you against it with his spear.

“You need to work on your attack, you leave a lot open” he says, breathing heavily.

“You need to work on a codpiece, it leaves a lot open” you retort, kneeing him in the groin, hard enough for him to drop you, but not so hard that it kept him down for long.

“Not enough beskar” he murmurs, hoping to get the last word in.

“Oh big brag for a man who just lost several games of Dejarik in a row and” your sentence is cut short as the spear taps the small of your back giving him the winning point

“And what?”

“Oh real classy Din, can’t win a fair fight” you say hand on your hip.

“It was fair considering I wasn't going 100%”

‘Oh you weren't” you mock, the smile telling him you were amused and not upset by his antics, the gentle slap on his arm further verifying this. The moments like this were nice, but as you continue to gain on your target they became fleeting. The Mandalorian watches as your ability to focus waivers, your frustration becoming increasingly evident in your training. Miraculously, you hadn't sliced through anything important, but the ship’s interior was constantly needing to be patched up. At least it kept him occupied and out of your hair. You looked like you were fighting a hidden battle, one he would gladly fight with you, if you'd let him. He didn’t know the full extent of your struggle, but he knew the anger he felt simmering inside you wasn't being aided by your refusal to sleep.

Your irritability, although caused by exerting tremendous energy keeping the figure at bay, was no excuse for the times you had lashed out at the Mandalorian. The most recent outburst occurred when he'd stepped on your foot after you had explicitly told him to watch out. In hindsight, threatening to melt his beskar down and turn it into a hearing aid for him so he could stop being such a nerf herder was a touch harsh. Alright, incredibly harsh especially considering he'd attempted to apologize before you went off on him.

“Sorry I threatened the beskar” you murmur sitting down next to him

“Are you going to tell me what's going on?” he asks

“Going on where” you ask

“Well it can't just be air in your head” he jokes, causing you to laugh for the first time in a few days.

“Seriously though , I'm sorry Ive been out of line, and it's not fair on you, you’ve been so understanding.”

“You know what might help with the outbursts?”

“A lecture?” you remark, your tone harsher than intended

“No, sleep, you should try it sometime”

“I'm fine without it” you say, the yawn escaping your lips contradicting your words.

“You should sleep.”

“ You don’t.” you remark hoping to catch him off guard, but he's obviously rehearsed this conversation a few times.

“ I don’t need to.”

“Neither do I.” You lie, almost a year later and you still had no idea how he slept so little, though your current working theory was that he would just take naps under the helmet when he thought he could get away with it.

“No, you can't sleep, there's a distinct difference.”

Not wanting to lash out at him for the third time that day and knowing he was right, you make a swift exit. You push the button that opens up to the tight sleeping quarters where you'd spent many hours lying awake. You were hoping that you'd reached an exhaustion point where your body would just shut down. You lay back on the bed not bothering with the covers, you weren't expecting to get comfortable. Anya had stopped trying to sleep in the same bed as you, usually getting inadvertently kicked or shoved out the bed by your constant movements. Your eyes can’t have been closed for more than a minute when they snap open. Despite their alertness your body's gone limp. What fresh hell was this? As your eyes adjust to the darkness you can only just make out the hauntingly familiar shape sitting at the edge of your bed. You go to call out for the Mandalorian, but no sound is emitted, nothing comes out at all not even air. You watch helplessly as the figure's arm extends ensnaring you in a choke hold, the yellow iris shining out beneath the hood, confirming your worst fear. A Sith. You scream yourself awake, the force causing items to fly to the ground, no doubt alerting the Mandalorian. You bring your knees to your chest grabbing at your scalp telling yourself it wasn’t real, but it didn't matter what you said. The truth was you couldn’t tell anymore all lines had blurred together. You get up off the bed looking around the room already exhausted at having to clean up yet another mess you had made. You lean over picking up the weapons that had fallen off the armoury hanging them back up when you hear the Mandalorian drop down the sound startling you.

“I'm sorry” you mutter embarrassed, not looking up as you move to grab the few dishes currently lying on the floor.

“What did I say about breaking the ship?” he says, chuckling slightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. He bends down to help you but you grab his arm stopping him.

“I made the mess. I'll clean it up.” You say gathering up the utensil and placing them back on the table absentmindedly stroking your throat as you turn to pick up the rest. As you reach for the chess board he grabs your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, leading you back over to the bed.

“Get some rest, I'll clean up,” he says softly, sitting you down on the bed.

“Stop telling me what to do Din, besides it's not working.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I can’t and unless you can think up a way to make me then were shit out of luck.”

“I can think of a few ways.” he mumbles hoping it was loud enough for you to hear.

“Like what? Knocking me out with a blaster?” you scoff

“ A less violent way,” The words leave his mouth before he can fully assess the pros and cons of what he was offering to do.

“Reciting the entire code of conduct of the mandalore race to me?” Gods, how were you still not getting this.

“A less boring way.” He prays that you either catch on or he passes away suddenly so as to save him from any further embarrassment.

“Oh” you punctuate, lips parted slightly suddenly realizing exactly what was being offered to you “you think you can tire me out?”

“Only if you want.” he says, more confident now you hadn't outright rejected him

“Well I have been dying to see what’s under that armour”

“ You’ve seen it before”, and you couldn't wait to see it again.

“Not all of it”

“The helmet stays on,” he asserts.

“Not what I was referring to.” He stands there for a moment unsure how to proceed, not wanting to have misread the situation. “Well are you just going to stand there or are you not a man of your word?” That’s all the encouragement he needs.

“You want me to stop at any time, you just say so cyar’ika”

Once again the Mandalorian was right ; he was able to tire you out. Neither of you say anything after both at a loss for words, and not wanting to ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing. You fall asleep with his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the other runs up and down your back. His heartbeat lulling you into a deep sleep, his presence managing to stay off any nightmares, at least for now.

He stays with you long after you’ve dozed off watching your back rise and fall in time with your breathing, he thanks the gods you were finally resting. He intently studies the faint purple markings covering your body, wondering how long they'd been there. His hand then tracing over the scars on your back, he wants to know how you got them. He wanted to know everything. Once this was all a distant memory he’d ask, if you chose to stick around that is. Knowing you won't want to find him in your bed when you wake up, he slides his arm from your waist and quietly, so as not to wake you, he puts his clothes back on. Re-donning his armour he heads back upstairs to check on the ship.

Your body shivers inadvertently at the loss of heat and your eyes slowly open. The room’s still dark, but the Mandalorian had gone. He must have left sometime in the night presumably his way of telling you it was a one off. Knowing Din to be a man of few words you knew talking about what had just happened was fully off the table. You sit up and stretch out, allowing your elbows to pop and your shoulders to crack as you roll them out, feeling a way that you hadn't felt in months. Well rested. Making your way over to the fresher you allow the water to wash over you removing any remaining scent attributed to the Mandalorian. After dressing you head up to the cockpit, slightly bow legged from the night before. You’d had your fair share of lovers and for a human, he was very well endowed and very eager to please.

“How far” you ask brushing any thoughts about last night from your head as you shoo Anya off your seat.

“You’re up sooner than I thought.” He says looking at you. He’d noticed the slight stagger in your walk causing him to smirk under the helmet, but the smile fades when you don’t look down.

“How far are we?” you ask again, picking up Anya who’s refused to move of her own volition.

“Close. About last night” he starts, wanting to make sure everything was okay, and that you weren’t regretting what had happened.

“ Look, we don’t have to talk about it. I know it wasn’t a big deal.” You say.

“It may not be a big deal for you.” you don't know why, but you take that tone as being pointed, referring specifically to your time spent in the rings.

“Why? because I've slept with half the galaxy? Something I did in order to survive an environment let’s not forget you put me in?” you spit out

“ No, I-I didn’t mean,” he starts. It's the first time you've ever heard him stumble over his words.

“ You never do.” You say, shutting him up for the remainder of the trip.

“Dropping out now.’ He says, 5 days, that's how long it had taken to get to where you were going, whoever was on the planet was committed to not being found, or at least committed to having you as sleep deprived as possible.

You step out with the Mandalorian close behind you, the planet's surface reflecting the ship's underlights back into its metal exterior. The mirrored rock had sprouted out into various forms and sharp geometric shapes, resulting in a beautiful, but sinister skyline.

“You sure this is the place? Doesn't look like any living thing could survive here.”

“Yes, I can sense a disturbance. You stay here with Anya.” you say placing a hand on his chest plate.

“No way.” Din responds

“I have to do this alone. It's too dangerous for you.”

“For me?” he says in disbelief.

“Wait here if i'm not back within the hour, leave.” You state ignoring his last question.

“ I'll give you two for good measure” he offers, holding out a blaster for you to take.

“It won't help.” You say pushing it back towards him before pulling up your hood and setting off into the unknown. Once he's sure you're out of sight, he follows you.

You close your eyes, letting your senses lead you through the sharpened planet careful not to cut yourself on the dark obsidian refelcting blurred images of the stars. A rock snaps under your foot and your eyes open. A voice calls out to you, uttering your name.

“Who are you.” you ask aloud, turning to face the cloaked figure who stands before you.

“ That is not important” he answers, lips not moving. Telepathy. So that’s how he'd gotten into your head.

“You tried to kill me I think it's at least relevant.” You return in thought.

“You came alone.” he asks, yellow eyes darting from side to side, despite the power this figure held you send a nervousness harboured deep within him, perhaps you should have brought the Mandalorian along with you.

“ Yes” you lie, hoping your force was strong enough to shield the bounty hunter.

“Good.” he snarled.

“Why did you kill me.” you ask not wanting to beat around the bush

“To see if I could. I needed to see your abilities, you’re stronger than I thought if you brought yourself back to life. The empire is rebuilding”, he offers not clearing the situation up in the least

“The empire died with Palpatine, they’re nothing but warmongering desolates now” you say shaking your head, not believing you had flown halfway across the galaxy for this.

“That’s what they have told you. We have been growing an army, led by the spirit of the emperor. We are seeking those with your abilities to help us rebuild.”

“You’ve lost your mind. The Sith were defeated long ago, the Jedi with them.” You turn to leave, no longer fearing this man, he holds no power over you.

“No” he shrieks, the sound drawing your gaze back to him, the noise frightening you slightly “You cannot leave. You cannot go. You will join us and rebuild a stronger galaxy.”

“I have no interest in joing a cult of fear and genocide.” you state calmly.

“It is more than a cult I offer you, something much better, power.” he was getting desperate, a few more days without sleep and you may have fallen for it.

“Power to what? Give you all the blood in my body so you can commit futile experiments on innocent people. You cannot create force sensitivity nor can you push it on someone who it has not chosen. Join you? No, I'll have to pass. Death and destruction will not be my path.”

“Not yet, but it will be. I see it in you, the pain, the sadness, the loneliness, that will all disappear once you join us.”

“Over my dead body” You say drawing your sabre. A violent clash of red and purple ricochet off the mirrored rock, lighting up the shadowed planets.

“Your grandmother trained you well.” He exclaims.

“ If you knew her then you should know that i'd never turn” You continue the fight. Managing to back him into a rock wall. Holding saber at his throat the light purple hue gleaning in the yellow irises beneath his hood.

“I understand why you ambushed me, not much of a fighter are you.” you snarl, pushing the saber into the robe, the scent of burning fabric filling the air. Then you feel it, the pulse of the fibers interwoven throughout the galaxy, something’s amiss. Something else appears under the glow of you saber, yellowed teeth, smiling under the light. You release him pushing yourself back, he wants you to kill him.

“ Do not fear it, I have seen this moment. It is what begins your reign”

“No” you say aloud to yourself, “No” you repeat turning off the saber and turning to leave.

“If you let me live, I kill the man with you.”

The Mandalorian whose been watching from afar hasn’t heard a word spoken in a while, watching you move towards him he thinks it must be over, whoever this person was, Sith or not, you must have come to an agreement. He almost walks out from his hiding spot when you stop dead in your tracks. He sees you look up, your eyes meeting his but only for a moment, before you pivot back to face the man.

“There’s…” you start.

“Don’t play me for a fool child, I have been playing this game long before you were even a thought in your mothers pretty little head. I know he is here. I know what you feel for him. You kill me and in time you will betray him, but you’d rather that, than lose him altogether.”

There's no thought process, no decision to make. With a flick of your wrist you throw the saber. You watch as it slices through the Siths neck before returning to your hand. You close it as his head tumbles to the ground. If Ashoka's words were a warning this, this was an omen. You had made a choice and now a path of irredeemably evil was laid before you. A path you were not prepared to drag anyone else down.

“I know you're there” you say after composing yourself. “I told you not to follow me.” You say making your way to the Mandalorians hiding spot.

“Are you alright? What did he say to you?” he asks, reaching a hand out for your arm.

“Nothing.” You say dodging him. The less he knew the safer he'd be. You weighed your options in your head on the walk back, but you knew there was only one way to avoid harming anyone. You had to hide away, become anonymous. Fall back into legend, never to be seen again. It was the only way Grogu would be safe, it was the only way Cara would be safe, it was the only way Din would be safe. As the ship takes off you say three words that would change everything.

“Take me home.”

“We're on route to Hoth now,” he says reassuringly.

“No, take me to my home. Grogu is back and safe. Our deal is done. Our alliance is over” You say, eyes plastered to the windshield.

“What did he say to you?” Din stresses, but you don’t answer. Silence was the only way to stop him from convincing you to stay.

“Don’t shut me out” he says slamming his hand on the panel. You don’t flinch, you don’t even look up. “We can figure this out together.” He says softly, if you hadn’t known any better you would have thought he was pleading with you.

“You’ve done enough. Take me home. If you don’t the force will.” He resets the GPS coordinates before standing up and dropping downstairs. Anya muzzles into you as you let out a sigh blinking back the tears you felt forming.

#alliance #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #mando x you #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mando x y/n #mando x reader #chapter 9

[toshis-puppycat]

A/N: Whoa look it's me ya girl about to post an entirely new fic bcs she got into a new fandom!! Don't worry tho, Dreamscape will be updated soon! And oof will it hopefully be a good one for yall!! But anyways I wanna dedicate this fic to @traqicalromance bcs if she didn't show an interest in this show I would've never given it a second glance and honestly Ronnie you got all my uwus so this is for you!! I hope this is also enjoyed!! (Even if its not tho that's okay, still love yall!)

Unfortunately, I Think I Love You Too.

Summary: You were used to staying in the shadows of the pro-hero world, preferred it even. Unfortunately for you, Hawks needed help on a case and you were the only one able to provide it. Hopefully you wouldn't regret it.

Pairing: Takami Keigo (Hawks) x pro-hero!reader

Part One

Hawks was about to get stabbed with the way he was acting with you. Way too familiar for his own goddamn good and too goddamn smug with it. 

"Come on sweetheart, you gotta say something to me eventually." He said, flying right in your face, his smug smile in the right spot to get punched in.

"Hawks I swear to god, if you do not leave me the fuck alone I will hurt you." You deadpanned. 

"Swearing doesn't look good on your image sweetheart." He smirked, you did acknowledge him. But did he have to be like this. Why he was even talking to you was pissing you off, he was the number 2 pro-hero. Now while you were also a pro-hero you were not one 'worthy' of talking to someone of Hawks rank. No one knew your face like they did his. You were more like Eraserhead in that regard. Being an underground hero made you feel more comfortable, and it let you stay where you wanted. Hidden from villains when off duty. You'd be way happier if Hawks left you the fuck alone though, because he could find out what you looked like as a civilian and honestly thats something you wanted to avoid because God, Hawks bothering you when you were working was something you could deal with. But him harassing you off duty? Yeah it's a hard no from you. 

"Is there a reason you're harassing me Hawks?" You said, continuing your patrol of the area. 

"I have to ask for a favor for tonight." He said, now walking by you instead, you could feel his wing touching both of your shoulders. You could just feel the sigh coming up. After you two met the first time at a charity event, he never wanted to leave you alone. To him, it was just so interesting how no one knew what you actually looked like. How you kept your private life very very private was a mystery he wanted to solve. "I can't ask a civilian, but I can ask another hero." He said. This time you didn't bother to hold back the sigh. 

"Villains know what I look like Hawks." You said, stopping suddenly and turning to him. 

"That's true. But..." he trailed off, looking at you intensely. You could feel your patience running thin. "No one knows what you look like off duty. So I have to ask. Will you help me? You'll have to dress like a civilian but since no one knows what you look like I think this'll work well. No villain would be able to connect you to whoever you're trying to protect." He said quickly, looking at you earnestly. 

"Hawks, why the fuck would I-" he cut you off.

"Look. If you help me with this I'll keep my mouth shut for one and two I'll do whatever else you want. Anything." He said, smiling at you. You felt absolute euphoria at that statement, a gleam in your eye, that of course he couldn't see. But God you were going to take advantage of this offer. 

"You have to leave me alone. No bugging me during work, no trying to talk to me when I'm patrolling my area." You said, you almost started smiling. His smile dropped a little at your request, becoming strained. But then it came back full force.

"Does that mean I can see you off duty, sweetheart?" He asked, winking at you flirty as ever. You took a deep breath.

"Do not try and bother me off duty Hawks. I'm tired after work ya know." You said, quickly turning away from the winged hero, continuing the patrol that you were thankfully almost done with, he quickly caught up with you. 

"Come on though. I'm serious. I really do need someone to come with me for this. And no one knows what you look like. It's a perfect plan!" He said, smiling widely.

"You would know what I look like. Thats worse." You said, turning at the corner. 

"This could seriously help! Come on! They wouldn't believe anyone else if they come with me! They're too well known, you aren't. Because you didn't want to be well known." He said, quickly stepping in front of you and forcing you to a stop. "This could save people you know." 

You sighed. "Fine. But god Hawks, don't try to make it seem like I don't want to save people. And do not try to talk to me off duty." He smiled at you again, quickly grabbing his phone and shoving it in your face. You did a pretty good job avoiding hero friends. Preferring that no one actually get too close to you, Hawks was going to be the first and last hero you'd ever have any contact with off duty. You'd never been so glad to know that there was no one in the area. If they heard you, they'd be able to find out what you looked like. And that'd be bad. You pulled out your own phone and handed it to him. His smile seemed to get even wider and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "Don't get anything twisted, bird brain. This is for a case. Not for anything else." He quickly put his number in and you snatched it away, quickly walking off, only slightly turning to yell, "Oh yeah, bird brain make sure to tell me the occasion." 

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

The occasion was thankfully not formal, you'd learn later. It was more of a casual thing. No dressing up too much. Thank God. You still didn't show Hawks what you looked like, the longer it took the better. You wore something cutesy for the first time in a few years, a white floral crop top and a high waisted burgundy skirt with tights. Sometimes you did miss dressing up. Wearing something cute to make someone swoon over you. You really wished that the first time you'd wear something like this didn't have to be with him. Your phone vibrated.

'Where are you?'- Hawks

You looked around for the familiar red wings you usually saw, immediately finding him, his back to you. You were walking in his direction before you could stop yourself, and before he saw you.

'Turn around bird brain.'- you

You heard his phone chirp, and he turned around. 

"You're lucky you're so easy to find." You stated, a little flirtatiously. Ignoring how he was slightly gaping at you. It was a fair thing, you were never really seen before and you were already putting on an act for whoever you needed to. He still didn't make a move to be near you, so instead you moved closer to him. Wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a peck on the cheek. Bringing your face close to his ear and whispering, "Come on bird brain, don't blow this." That seemed to make him snap out of it, his arms quickly wrapping around your middle, holding you close. Usually you were trying to get him to leave you alone and now you had to act like you were his partner.  It was a weird feeling, one you were attempting to adapt to quickly. You moved your face away from his neck and gave him a dazzling smile. One he returned easily, okay maybe this wasn't going to be so bad. You two were led into the building. This was going to be easy.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

You regretted that thought now. At some point during this undercover operation with Hawks, someone noticed something so obscure on you that it blew both of your covers and you didn't even know what the fuck it was. It wasn't until you were pinned down by a villain, that you found out what it was that set them off. It was you. Someone recognized you, which should have been impossible. Especially coming from a villain. It wasn't until they whispered how happy their boss was going to be that you were alive that it registered who they were to you though. And it wasn't anyone that was great to you when you were younger. Of course the one and only time you'd ever shown your face again would be the time he would be able to find you. You kicked the villain off of yourself, quickly moving into a defensive position. You were shaking, you were actually terrified. They found you. Next thing you knew, there were several fellow pro-heros in front of you, quickly rounding up the rest of the villains that weren't already knocked out. You could've fainted when you actually registered it. Then Hawks was in front of you shielding your face from the other heros with his wings, and you were being led out away from the police force cars and others. If it was anyone else you were with being led away would've made you scared. You were already shaken, anyone would've been able to see it. This would be the only time you'd say you actually felt safer with someone who annoyed you. 

"Hey sweetheart come on. Come back to me." You him faintly. He sounded so concerned. It was probably because of how wet your face felt. Oh. It was because of that. You were crying, and because you were crying you were hyperventilating. Your hands were gripping at the collar of his jacket. Fuck. This was not one of your finer moments.

"Don't you dare mention this to anyone." You choked out, finally taking deeper breaths to regulate your racing heart..

"Come on sweetheart, you should know me better than that." He said, arms wrapping  around you like they did earlier. Although way less flirty and sexual, it felt more intimate. Your heart finally stopped racing. You were still terrified, but there wasn't any time to fall back into that panicked state. You had to start planning. Unfortunately Hawks was thinking the same thing, seeing you panicked like that was something he never wanted to see again and ever have you experience. You were hiding something, and he was going to be the one to find out what.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Taglist: @onyxiana-is-obsessed, @neon-tries-writing, @shiggi-trash

If you wanna be added to the taglist for this, please let me know!

#bnha #hawks x reader #can this be considered angst? #bcs if so dont worry 🙂 reader will be happy in this #I'm sorry idk what quirk to give the reader!! #keigo takami

[reyesstrand]

not sure if I’m allowed to send another but, what about 85 for tarlos?

sorry for the wait for this, but this idea got in my head and it kind of got out of control — a good ending to this series, i guess!! i hope you enjoy! 

prompt taken from this list. also available on ao3!!

Three weeks to the day after the solar flare, Carlos receives a cryptic text from his mom: come for lunch today?

He mulls it over; he loves his mother, and it’s no secret to anybody that knows him that he’s a total mama’s boy, but there’s got to be a reason behind her impromptu meal, and an evil part of his mind tells him it has to be bad news. She doesn’t mention anything about his sisters joining them, and Carlos doesn’t know if that should stress him out more or less. If it’s something bad, he’d assume that he and his sisters would find out at the same time — but that only leaves him more confused.

She’s a strong woman, and is a complete health-nut — ever since his abuela started having mobility issues, his mother’s been a champion for organic eating and natural sleep aids and doing yoga every morning. Carlos can’t put bad news from the doctor completely off the table, but he starts to drift towards the other countless possibilities — and so he can’t say no to her. Even if it’s his only day off that lines up with TK’s schedule, he spares a glance at his softly snoring boyfriend before figuring the man’s close enough with his own father that he’ll have to understand a shift in plans. And so Carlos finds himself more alert than he’d been when he’d rubbed sleep from his eyes and initially checked his phone five minutes ago, thumbs hovering over the screen before he sends her a simple of course, mami, and sets about getting ready for the day after pressing a quick kiss to TK’s hairline.

He’s showered and had his coffee and is trying to quietly get dressed when Carlos hears TK groan and grumble, clearly fighting between catching a little more sleep and getting out of bed. Carlos watches with a small smile as TK slowly sits up when he realizes he’s alone in bed, before their gazes catch, and his heart soars as TK’s eyes visibly light up at seeing him.

“Everything okay?” TK asks, voice still deep and groggy, and Carlos nods as he starts on buttoning up his shirt.

“We might have to change our plans today,” Carlos says apologetically. “I really—fuck, I really wanted to spend he day with you, but my mom wants me to come over and she usually doesn’t spring stuff like that on me unless there’s something wrong, and—”

“Hey,” TK cuts him off, and Carlos raises his brows at him. “It’s okay, seriously. Marjan’s been bugging me to take Buttercup to get some pampering, anyway.”

“You’re the best,” Carlos says, and TK grins at him.

“Damn straight.”

TK tilts his head up, clearly looking for a kiss. Carlos huffs out a laugh and comes in close, so their mouths are nearly touching, before he whispers, “You have no shame, do you.”

“Nope,” TK grins, eyes crinkling in the corners, popping the p before he closes the space between them and gets the kiss he wanted. “I’ll see you later, though?”

His eyes shine with hopefulness, and Carlos nods earnestly. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.”

There’s another brief kiss, before Carlos sighs as he presses their foreheads together.

“I hate just leaving on you,” Carlos admits, even though the thoughts surrounding what his mom’s intentions are with lunch are swirling around his mind.

“I’ll be fine,” TK says, ducking forward to press another kiss to the corner of Carlos’ mouth. “Say hi to your mom for me.”

It’s only half a joke — TK’s been talking, metaphorically, about meeting Carlos’ family for a week or so. He mentions it whenever Carlos talks about childhood memories or a story from one of his sisters, noting that Carlos has known his dad technically even before he knew TK. But it never evolves from a few jokes, and even though Carlos wants nothing more than to continue to make their relationship solidified through introducing each other properly to the people that mean the most to them, he doesn’t know how to seriously approach that subject.

Instead of trying now, Carlos leaves with a promised, “I’ll see you later,” before he grabs his keys and phone and makes his way out of his home.

The half-hour drive goes by mostly in a blur, because he’s too caught up in what might unfold at the lunch. They usually try to have big family dinners bi-weekly, due to everyone’s work schedules and his sister’s kids’ schedules, but he can’t remember the last time a meal like this was just dropped on him the day-of. He does have the right state of mind to stop and grab his mom a bouquet of lilies, her favourite, before he pulls up to the humble farmhouse he’d lived in his whole childhood.

“Is everything okay?”

The words are out of his mouth within seconds of stepping into the house, half-startling his mother as she pours out two glasses of sweet tea.

“Can’t I ask my favourite son to have lunch with me when I know it’s his day off?”

Carlos flushes a bit, handing the flowers to his mom as she pulls him in for a hug. “I’m your only son.”

“Still my favourite,” she grins, smacking a kiss on his cheek before she gestures toward the back deck. He follows her, taking a deep breath as he goes.

* * *

“I know something is up, baby.”

He'd been expecting something regarding her own well-being or health, or his abuela's, so when the conversation turns to him he's sort of confused. And Carlos has grown up hearing from people that he has his mother’s eyes, and as he looks into them now, he thinks he sees the similarities as she looks at him with a particular warmth laced with concern he’s been accustomed to since he was born.

“You know, I saw an interesting photo of you the other day,” she says it off-handedly, but Carlos still manages to choke on his drink. She doesn’t hesitate, going on to describe the picture he knows intimately because he posted it to his Instagram only forty-eight hours ago: him and TK, smiling as they stand close, too close to just be friendly to any onlooker, taken by Paul in the late hours of the night as they strolled around downtown after their shifts. He hadn’t even considered his family seeing the photo, and he silently rues the day his sisters made their mother various social media accounts so she could keep up with their lives. Her voice turns soft, as she squeezes his arm and asks, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Uh, I have to pee.”

He says it quickly enough that he can run off to inside the house, where the remnants of their lunch sits scattered over the counter. Carlos beelines for the bathroom and leans against the sink as he pulls out his phone.

how do you feel about my mom knowing about you?

seriously.

Carlos sends the messages to TK and taps his phone against the heel of his palm as he waits for a response. He thinks back to his mother’s implications — that she knows about them, is okay with them — and figures that he could always lie. It’ll look suspicious as hell, of course, after he just fucked off like that, but he’s never really brought any boyfriends around before. Mainly because he’s never been in a serious enough relationship to warrant that. But he thinks — he knows that there’s something real between him and TK, and he wouldn’t hate his mom and eventually his sisters knowing about him and meeting him and welcoming him into the fold of their family dynamic. But he needs to make sure this is still something TK’s okay with, that it’s going at his pace.

TK texts him back quickly, like always. i was serious about wanting to meet her someday. maybe even soon. so if you want to talk about me i support you.

you’re sure? Carlos texts back, as he feels his nerves starting to both tamper off and confusingly grow at the same time as he walks toward the backyard again, preparing to let his mother into this part of his life.

100%. tell her only the good things, i wanna impress her, TK replies, along with a string of heart emojis. Carlos huffs a little, quickly typing out, she’ll love you no matter what, before pocketing his phone and sliding back into his seat across from his mother.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, meeting her eyes, and as he opens his mouth to continue, she quickly interjects.

“Don’t lie to me, Carlos,” she warns, though there’s warmth behind her words, a desperate plea to tell him that she wants to be included in this part of his life, no matter how new it might be. "You know you can talk to me."

So Carlos takes another deep breath, not really looking at his mother as he whispers: “I met someone, mami.”

He stares down at the ground; after a few seconds, he shifts his gaze to stare at the blooming gardens that live in clusters around the yard, various vegetables and flowers alike growing with vengeance as the summer welcomes them back into the world. When she makes a noise and he finally meets her gaze again, she’s looking at him with nothing but fondness.

“Oh, baby,” his mom is smiling, now, and she brings his face close to press a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s only been official for a few weeks but, um, I really like him,” Carlos admits, as his mother lovingly squeezes his hand. With a laugh, he adds: “I like him a lot. And I’d love for you to meet him.”

His mother leans forward and curls her arms around him, like she did when he was a kid and he felt too small to conquer the world, and he immediately feels calm wash over him. “I would love to, mijo.”

(Carlos has a flash of a memory, then, coming out when he was fifteen years old and terrified but desperate for his truth to be known. He first told his older sister Camila, and then his mother a couple of days later, and he remembers so vividly how they hugged his then-tiny frame, all knobbly bones and a height he was getting used to, both of them supportive and loving and adamant that nothing would change how much they love him. He towers over both of them now, but he feels protected in his mother’s arms, like he always has).

As they pull out of the hug, his mother elbows him good-naturedly. “Alright, tell me about this boy then.”

His mama’s grinning at him teasingly as she says it, and Carlos sits back and huffs out a laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck.

“His name’s TK. He’s a firefighter,” Carlos says, barely holding back a bigger smile when his mother makes an approving face at that tidbit of information. “He’s—he’s funny and beautiful and has the warmest heart.”

“I’m so happy for you,” his mother says, eyes bright with love, as if just listening to him talk about TK has made her realize how truly happy he is. And maybe it's allowed himself to look at inside retrospectively and figure out that yeah, he is happier than he's ever been. “I’m sure I’ll love him. You’ll have to bring him around.”

“I will,” Carlos promises, feeling like he’s floating on air. “Oh, and he’s from New York City.”

He says it pointedly, knowing his mother’s always wanted to travel to the Big Apple.

“Well,” his mother says, “I guess we’ll have to show your city boy how we do family dinners, then.”

She brings him in for another hug as she smiles, before she goes off to refill their glasses. Carlos sits back, considering the idea of TK being a part of his family, for good — and he finds that he wants nothing else in the world.

#tarlos #911 lone star #my fic #one shot collection #robronisendgame

[theshortwavemystery]

NOTES FROM WATCHING THE FIRST EPISODE OF “RIVERDALE”

1. Riverdale is a bizarre town that seems cut off from everywhere else, temporally straddled between an eternal 1950’s—more accurately a 1950’s stuck in an endless repetitive loop. But it takes place in the late 2010’s. Even so, the decor in the town is vintage, and the characters recognize this. The activities of the kids are vintage. the internet and cell phones exists, millennials are named, but it doesn’t seem to matter. something is very weird here, as if all these people are ghosts. all the stock scenarios and characters are here, which is to be expected for a teen drama, but there’s an exactness, a literalism, that is too perfect to be unintentional. 2. what is this world? it seems to be a staging of a certain inertia in american culture, which changes in superficial ways—technology, new TV shows, music new taboos—but all if this somehow serves to reinforce, or justify a return to the “leave it to beaver” universe. 3. any reminder that these are modern kids—their frequent references to contemporary TV shows like Mad Men for instance—only serve to increase the spooky vibe. everyone in this town seems to be low key crazy, making the show feel like twin peaks but written by what’s left of your local shopping mall. 4. the show’s script is constantly making fun of itself to the point that we seem directed by it to avoid taking the drama seriously—it is perhaps a smoke screen, like the haze of the presumably northwestern woods that seem to surround the town (it is filmed in Vancouver). the gay best friend is named as the gay best friend, establishing him as a living archaism—i felt bad for him after this. 5. plot points are shown to be cliche—the fake lesbian kiss, once scandalous in the 2000’s, is brushed off as false and an erasure of real lesbians. the script fools us, indicating it means to aim for more intelligent territory. and yet, veronica’s confrontation with cheryl, her tough girl speech, where she reveals her vulnerability as a rich girl fallen from grace but also stands up for betty—this goes without an ironic comment, even thought it is also a cliche, but a more contemporary oneq—the “mic drop” moment. so we see how the naming of particular cliches, employed ironically, serves to hide others the show is earnestly employing. 6. veronica says she needs to be redeemed for her father’s crimes, how is that fair. 7. archie’s desire to make music seems like a stand-in for a recognition that he’s gay. they cover this up by making his character straight but i don’t buy it. because his music itself clearly doesn’t matter. this is similar to the dead poets society where the kid kills himself obviously because he’s gay and he’s afraid his dad will disown him. why? nobody kills themselves merely because their dad shames them for doing theater. the reason is simple: theater is already such a humiliating and abject thing to love that you have to be totally shameless to even start doing it. once you become a theater kid your dad has lost you. in the second episode, the gay friend of betty reveals that he agrees with me here. 8. archie is the decentered center of the show, not a particularly interesting character so much as a holding container for female desire/fantasy. he’s dumb, cute boy who’s kind of artistic and kind of jockish, but the complex psychology belongs to betty, veronica, cheryl so far—all plotting, calculating characters, whereas archie just wants to enjoy himself and be liked—and to be fair, these shallow needs get him in plenty of trouble, but they’re simple needs. but this is always what archie was, even as a comic book character. he’s kicked around like a football like a more jocular charlie brown. 9. archie’s problem is identiied as the problem of "all millenial men", who need to be told what they want—but this is really everyone’s problem. what makes the girls/women different is that they don’t care that they don’t know what they want—they just act on feelings, and try to make the world match up with the feelings. archie thinks he ought to know what he wants, and then do it. but the women, whose desires as women are not even encouraged from day one, are free from this tedious problem. this is why archie is the one who has to be the moral authority regarding his mutual witness to the murder with the hot teacher, while the hot teacher is only afraid people will find out she fucked a student. veronica brushes off archie’s identity crisis as a false dilemma, critiqueing the categories of “jock” and “artist” and insisting he can be both, and anyway who gives a fuck? but this whimsy and indifference toward boundaries can get devious with veronica, who is betty’s friend one second and hooking up with archie the next. 10. although women are still often denied full subjectivity in literature, in real life it’s always been the opposite—men tend to forego personality development in favor of power or the illusion of power, and end up more shallow, rigid and fragile, more prone to the whims of their entourage. they never really have to become anything in particular--masculinity functions like a hive mind. if male relationships superficially appear to have less friction, it is only because men are brutally conformist and end up with little personal to argue about, usually coalescing around some common interest and not prone to discussing their respective inner lives--except, occasionally to defensively deny their existence. so-called "sensitive" men only do this in more devious ways--it's obvious that jughead is the most devious character we've met so far. women, in contrast, are each a hive mind unto themselves, compelled to construct an array of selves, carefully deploying them to get by in a world structured by the male gaze and booby-trapped by the machinations of other women. this complexity is of course terrifying to men who either submit to it as a fetish or suppress it— and one way of accomplishing that suppression in literature is to create stories where the men are supposedly complex and the women supposedly shallow and dependent wholly on men--the typical gaslight job of the mediocre male writer. this is clearly a show that, whatever its other blindnesses, is not going to let that happen. 11. we are told through veronica that archie is more dangerous than he looks. why doesn’t the show want us to figure this out ourselves? this feels ironic on the writers' parts, another winking use of cliche. 12. everyone’s problem is a cliche—archie’s father pressures him to do sports to get into college, he wants to do something else. betty’s mom is controlling and betty is a people pleaser who already in the first episode explodes about how perfect she has to be all the time and can’t she just do something for herself for once? 13. the music is annoying and cloying but it also grounds the contemporary nature of the show, because of its peculiar sense of melodrama, which is endemic to this time period, and the neoliberal overvaluing of the self. 14. the video on this show seems filtered into oblivion, or photoshopped or otherwise conspicuously treated. just like the self-awareness of the script, it contributes to the sense of unreality. 15. more self-aware cliches: archie and betty grew up next door to each other—they’re stuck in a feedback loop of being the ____ next door. cheryl describes herself as the queen on stage at the dance. 16. classic literature is referenced oddly—betty loves toni morrison, even though by the end of the episode, we have been introduced to zero black main characters. is this self-aware critique of white fetishization of blackness? and there's also thornton wilder’s “our town”… veronica suggests that the high school is part of the lost epilogue from “our town”—wilder also presented a transparently fake and timeless town to stage his existentialist story in, one in which horrifyingly, dead people remain in a liminal space between death and life, vainly trying to communicate with the living they can still see. 17. every celebrity/media reference is bizarre. a thin veneer draped over an unchanging reality. "Riverdale" seems not so much about the dark underbelly of suburbia, but about the idea of suburbia is the dark underbelly itself. a murder has to happen because someone has to bring death here, lest everyone become paralyzed by their immortality. 18. archie’s “making a deal” with the hot teacher is way more erotic than anything he’ll do with b or v… why is this happening at the Dance lol, unless we are to read it this way? they have shared the most precious thing in this town, death... why does archie love the teacher and toy with his peers? because they can't give him death. clearly archie is blackmailing the hot teacher into continuing the relationship, but he does so seemingly unaware of his own motives. he lives in the age of youtube tutorials, he doesn't need music instruction. and here is another paradox of the modern gender binary--men think they don't know what they want, but unconsciously they know what they want--they receive their instructions from the Borg Queen of masculinity and pursue it ruthlessly, whereas women end up thinking they know exactly what they want, but unconsciously they don't, because it's fractured amongst their afformentioned hive of selves. This is why both traditonally-socialized genders are completely right in saying the other is full of shit. 19. “we have no past” goes the song josie sings—and maybe this is america’s problem—the past is empty, the past of ordinary suburbia, interrupted only occasionally by wars perhaps but untouched by cultural progress—and because we have no past we can have no present, only an empty recycling of the same void, the same problems, the same catharses—new episodes of the same show. we live forever at the cost of never changing. is riverdale a socially critical prestige drama LARPing in the ironic costume of a CW teen soap??? 20. all the characters are trapped in a carnival haunted house ride. the theme: adolescence. 21. cheryl’s party—brett kavanaugh could have been at this party 22. jughead is the narrator, and i like the idea that this is all in jughead’s head, which is why it’s so unstuck in time aesthetically, so stylized and knowing. and it's no wonder he's the most popular character, because he represents the writers themselves, and fandom is to have an illusion of a privileged relationship not so much with the characters, but with the property's creators--and to be hyperinvested and, if necessary, hypercritical of their choices. 23. the gay hookup is interrupted by the presence of a corpse—a classic trope in teen horror but it’s interesting to see it with a gay pair. it’s as if in the clash between the perpetual 1950’s aura and the contemporary references and morality, a gruesome surplus appears, the specter of homophobia. which, incidentally is a corpse of a man guilty of a sexual act that is still considered taboo—incest. a corpse symbolizes the death of innocence for a hetero couple, but for a queer couple it can’t just be that—it also must evoke the threat of actual murder. which makes this a very different moment. 24. jughead says riverdale has changed—but it has only been revealed to be what it always was—"full of shadows and secrets", as jughead puts it. he must be putting us on—this place is way creepier than Sunnydale, and that place had actual demons… but this is often what a change amounts to—not the addition of a new trait, but the acceptance of one that was already there. 25. jason blossom is a ginger like archie and he therefore seems tied to archie in a unique way. he dies on july 4th, given some fuel to my reading as a show with something to say about america’s self-image. 26. all the parents are single parents or in strained, unhappy marriages in this town. this us realistic, but that should tip us off: what in the show has been realistic so far? debuting in january 2017, "Riverdale" seems retrospectively shaped by the trump era-a teen drama not about the undead, as buffy was, but a teen drama which is itself undead, fitting for a president who also wished to raise the dead, and also what had never lived. riverdale’s preservation of the old “great” america is superficial—indoors, a very contemporary isolation and alienation reign, in contrast even to the desperation of actual 50’s suburbia. 27. is everyone dead already in this show? is riverdale purgatory? is that what explains its being unstuck in time and drenched in fog? but i’ve been to small towns in the northwest that look like riverdale—nothing has been updated since 1954. in order to seem fake, riverdale has to be even faker that real life, even more uncanny—and that’s a tall order.

#riverdale

[the-darklings]

you breath in when i exhale;

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

summary: A hushed breath, a rumble of thunder, and suddenly you wanted to give him your whole heart.

word count: 4.1k+ (chill? never heard of her)

warnings: undertones of angst but FLUFF...can you believe?

notes: joke’s on me because clearly more than 5 people cared about my first Arthur fic, and I’m already in too deep so lets indulge folks. also, this man deserves happiness~

tagging: the demons who got me into this mess in the first place: @ilikecheesecakeforbreakfast & @deviantramblings. and the beautiful @sunstrain who has that good taste.

. . .

There was nothing to fear.

Not really.

It was childish and silly to fear something like this, considering the company you kept. The people you surrounded yourself with, shared food and space with, weren’t exactly the nicest around. But perhaps there was something a little rotten in you too if you had managed to fall in with them as smoothly as you did.

It was stupid to fear something as simple as a thunderstorm though.

Especially considering you were in the storm season and rain came often and heavily, accompanied by gusts of strong wind that made your rickety tent appear even more pathetic with every blow. You couldn't help but think your makeshift home was about to be ripped out of the ground and flown off to the next state at any second. Lenny might have helped you to build it and secure it to the ground—and you certainly trusted him enough to know he did a well-done job of it—but the ridiculous fear still remained.

Lightning flashed outside, the boom of thunder crashing through the sky before you managed to get to the count of two.

Your eyes squeezed, your heart hammering loudly in your ears as you pressed your forehead harsher against your knees. The storm was close—too close—and you felt a shiver crawl up your spine as yet another gust of wind slammed against the side of your tent, making the material blow inwards.

You raised your head, your breaths shallow and strained while you looked towards the outside. The flaps of your tent refused to shut properly and you watched dully as rain pelted down, soaking everything in its path. The camp was quiet, everyone huddled in their tents and wagons, seeking shelter from the freezing rain. Only Javier and Arthur were away from the camp as far as you knew, busy running their own errands.

Selfishly, you wished Arthur was here. Something about his presence always made you feel braver, sharper, like you could step outside of yourself and accomplish anything you put your mind to. Even when storms hit, if he was in the camp, you at least managed to last through the worst of it without feeling like your guts were going to crawl up your throat.

But you also refused to rely on him, especially for something as foolish as this. He was a hardened outlaw. You had half a thought that even if you told him he would laugh at you. From all the things to fear in this world, thunder seemed like the last thing one would put on the list.

Another flash lit up the sky and the crack of thunder was so deafening, you had to muffle a strangled whimper in the space between your knees. Your hands trembled when you pressed them over your ears, trying to smother the sound of the raging storm outside. The dull roar of it was still audible, but with your eyes closed, you could almost pretend you were somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

But then—

A blur of sounds that got drowned by the echo of wind and rain. Despite your desire to stay in your makeshift darkness, your hands lowered, allowing the full blast of the storm to flood your ears again.

“—ya in ‘ere?”

“Arthur?” was your faint, confused whisper.

Your misty eyes slowly moved to the entrance of the tent where you could just make out a tall shape standing. The only thing you could recognise was the tip of Arthur’s boots; the same ones he always liked wearing best. You could still recall going with him and Charles when they went shopping and originally bought the pair. There were only a few occasions you could recall laughing as much as you did that afternoon. It held a special place in your heart ever since.

“I’m—I’m in here!” you quickly called when you saw Arthur turn away.

Practically flying out of your cot, you hurriedly wiped at your damp eyes, pulling the tent flap back to reveal a soaking Arthur.

Droplets of water fell from his hat, and even his heavy coat looked in a particularly sorry state. The rain had only intensified since the storm started, now falling so intensely, it was hard to see the rest of the camp.  

“Sorry, I ain’t botherin’ ya, right?” Arthur questioned, taking a few steps closer when you stepped back, quickly ushering him inside. “I normally won’t impose on you like ‘his but your tent was the nearest to ‘his side of the camp. I’ll be out of ya way as soon as this damn rain lets up.”

“It alright, Mr Morgan,” you muttered, flinching as another rumble of thunder echoed through the camp and surrounding forest. “You never impose. You’re always welcome. Please, sit.”

With a grateful nod, Arthur sat down on a spare chair you kept in your tent, water trailing after him. You hurried towards your clothing chest, rummaging till you found a dry fabric he could use to dry himself off. He took it with another grateful dip of his chin, pulling off his heavy coat and draping it over your chair. Underneath his coat, he appeared to be mercifully dry at least.

“Well the weather is shit,” Arthur spoke bluntly, rubbing his neck with the cloth. Despite your nerves and the queasy roll of your stomach, you couldn't help the startled laugh that slipped past your lips as you sat down in front of him. You laced your fingers nervously in your lap, your knee jerking up with every louder noise outside. “Can’t do nothin’ when it’s like this.”

“Didn’t finish?” you asked softly, noting his irritated glance outside, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Arthur nodded absentmindedly, “Yeah, guess Mr Downes will have to wait his turn, won’t he? Poor bastard,” he joked with a slight quirk of his lips that made your breath hitch for a brief second.

Arthur Morgan was easily the most confusing man you had ever met.

And the most wonderful.  

And the most dangerous.

He was a collection of contradictions you could not unravel no matter how hard you tried.

There was the merciless—the downright ruthless—side of him. The side that found a home in chaos, and moved through rivers of blood like it was holy ground. That managed to be subtly terrifying, and even more brutally efficient with his fists and revolver. A face you knew people had nightmares over, who had blood on his hands because survival required it.

But there was also a side of him you only ever saw around his friends—family, Dutch would say you were a family—that stole your breath away. The low, patient tone he always used with little Jack. The way he always cared and helped those who asked his help, no matter how much he might grumble about it first. How fiercely loyal he was to Dutch, and how unflinchingly he was always prepared to do whatever it took to protect everyone in the camp.

You saw how much he cared about his horse, how he scribbled away for hours on end in his journal. You had even caught glimpses of his drawings before. Subtle and simple, yet so beautifully elegant in portraying the raw beauty of whatever he was trying to capture.

You couldn't understand him.

And you didn’t realise till too late just how dangerous your fascination with him was.

You didn't, in fact, realise your feelings of respect and friendship had morphed into affection till you heard Mary-Beth talking about him in hushed whispers to Gilly.

Jealousy bloomed in the pit of your stomach then, and you had been horrified to realise that somewhere along the way the enigma that was Arthur Morgan, had become...important.

No matter how hard you tried to hold yourself back, your eyes always sought out his regnant frame and intent blue eyes first. You didn’t want to be Mary-Beth though. Didn’t want to love him because tying your heart to a dream could never end well. Not to mention the fact that no matter how much you had seen others try in the past, Arthur never allowed anyone close.    

He had never taken a lover in the time you had known him. Or at least none that he shared with others. Though you had heard on several occasions how much others—namely Micah and Sean—mocked him for it.

Arthur was handsome, incredibly so, so it wasn’t for the lack of willing participants, you knew. He simply didn’t allow anyone near that heart of his. And he did have one—you knew he did.

No one could care so much and be heartless.

Maybe one day someone was going to find a way to see into him, to get past his walls and love him for him; contradictions and all.

But—

A loud boom erupted from outside and you jerked up, your eyes flying towards the entrance of the tent, your heart in your throat as your fingers clenched into tight fists.

“You alright there?” Arthur’s curious question almost made you jump again, and your eyes skipped towards his slouched figure. Confusion and something else—something you couldn't put your finger on—lingered in his expression as he regarded you earnestly. “No offence, but ya look ready to keel over.”

“I’m fine,” you hastily shot back, your words unconvincing and tone weak. “It’s—it’s all fine, Mr Morgan.”

Arthur regarded you critically for a second before he leaned back, still staring at you. For a long, tense moment he was silent before something like understanding flickered over his features and you noticed the slow, tight curling of his fingers before they relaxed.

“Is Micah botherin’ you again?” he asked seriously. His words were soft but there was something chilling about the stilted calmness of his tone. “He do somethin’? Miss (Name), I told ya before, if he ever—”

“He didn’t do nothin’, promise,” you quickly interrupted, breaking his fierce stare. “It’s just...hey, I thought I asked you to call me (Name)?”

Arthur’s jaw clenched briefly before he nodded his head, finally looking away, “Ya sure did. But I also recall askin’ you to call me Arthur, no? Now stop changin’ the subject.”

A part of you urged to tell him while another whispered that it was silly and not worth his time. Sure, you were friends but most days he felt just as unreachable to you as you saw him be to others.

“I didn’t sleep last night, that’s all,” you told him with a strained smile. “So I’m a bit tense today.”

Arthur’s eyes were hard and searching while he regarded you grimly, almost like he was trying to judge the honesty of your words. “That so? Why was you not sleepin’ then?”

Because another storm hit a few hours after midnight and prevented you from sleeping. Instead, you had curled in your quilt and shivered the rest of your night away. You wanted to say it but the moment you tried to voice your feelings, they died on your tongue.

The chair creaked slightly and you lifted your head only to see Arthur standing to his full height. Wind and rain still raged outside, only adding to the already tense atmosphere. You knew your tent was small but Arthur always seemed larger than life, effortlessly filling the empty crevices with his presence.

He took a step towards you, and you didn’t realise the distance between you was so small until he dropped the fabric you gave him on your cot and crouched before you. The previous quiet amusement was gone from his face, leaving something more serious in its place. It was hard to meet his gaze when he was looking at you like this, when he was so close you could almost feel his body heat. His skin was still damp, one side of his face illuminated by the dim lamplight as he stared up at you.

“Whatever it is (Name), ya can—”

Arthur’s next words were interrupted by the most vicious crack of thunder yet, the brief flash of lightning blinding you for a second. A gasp of fear escaped you, your shoulders dipping and heart galloping madly in your chest. It beat so fast you were worried it was going to burst right out of you. But the dryness of your throat made it impossible to do anything other than to let out a weak croak of terror.

“Woah, hey,” Arthur’s deep voice sliced through the sickening fear, and you felt his larger hands settle over yours, stilling your shaking fingers. “You’re fine. It’s just a bit of silly—oh.”

Under different circumstances, you would have laughed over the expression of awkward understanding dawning on his face. Arthur exhaled slowly before glancing away, and you felt mortification fill you. Of course, someone like him would find this sort of thing completely idiotic.

“It’s f-fine,” you forced out with a wobbly grin, “I know it’s stupid. You can laugh it up now.”

Arthur grunted under his breath, the noise soft and contemplative before he looked up at you again, the intensity of those blue eyes making the forced smile on your lips die.

“Fear is fear,” he pointed out simply, voice almost cautious and you wondered where his hesitation was coming from. “It don’t matter what ya fear, it’s still awful. Everyone is afraid of somethin’.”

You couldn't help the disbelieving scoff that escaped you, “You don’t fear anythin’.”

His lips quirked slightly to one side, accenting the smooth curve of his mouth, “Sure I do,” he disagreed easily, his hands on yours tightening briefly when another crash of thunder echoed. “I fear lots of things. Ya just learn how to control that fear, use it as fuel, let it forge somethin’ better.”

“Yeah? What if there’s nothin’ better there?” you whispered, your eyes almost fluttering shut when you felt the warmth of his fingers starting to seep into your own. “I ain’t brave like you.”

He shook his head a little, the slight curve of his lips remaining, “Well that, I oughta disagree with. You’re plenty brave. Hell, I’ve seen it. Bravery ain’t as simple as shootin’ a gun (Name). Ya fear storms...so? Big deal.”

“It’s silly,” you pointed out feebly, cringing at another distant rumble. “I feel like an idiot if I tell anyone.”

“If it matters to ya, it ain’t silly,” he said, this time with a certain firmness in his voice that made you look down towards your lap. You knew he meant what he said but instead of relief, you felt a different kind of longing. Not for bravery but for him instead. “You remember that, hm?”

“Yeah,” you whispered softly and closed your eyes when Arthur removed his hands from yours.

Your digits trembled and you missed his soothing warmth instantly, trying not to look at him while you contemplated the possibility that this might have been a huge mistake. It would have been better to suffer in silence the way you always did, and not create another situation in which Arthur proved that his heart was bigger than he would ever care to admit. It just made it that much harder not to love him.

Arthur himself was quiet for a minute, and you silently wondered why he was still here. Why he hadn’t moved away or left. The rain was coming down deafeningly loud, washing out any other noise except the thud of your heart.

“Tell ya what,” Arthur began, and you glanced up at his voice, “It’s gettin’ pretty late so you get some rest and I’ll watch over ya, make sure nothin’ happens, yeah? Because frankly, ya look terrible.”

Your lips parting in shock, you immediately whacked his arm in outrage, “Arthur! You don’t just say somethin’ like that to someone!”

The man in front of you laughed, the deep rumble of his baritone washing over you and making you grin despite yourself. He had a nice laugh and you wished desperately he had more occasions to smile and laugh over. It suited him, made him look even more handsome than he already was, and it was hard not to wish that crooked grin never left his face.

“Ah, ‘here we go,” he murmured faintly, eyebrows rising while he leaned one arm on his knee, “That’s much better.”

Your smile faltered slightly as you stared at him, but the barely-there curl of your lips remained. Warmth bubbled in your chest, spreading all across your limbs and you wondered, then, if the day would ever come when you didn’t adore him. If maybe one day you'll be able to look at him and not feel like a complete fool.

A hushed breath, a rumble of thunder, and suddenly you wanted to give him your whole heart.

But you didn't want to lose him. Didn’t want to burden him with feelings you knew he was never going to return. And if by some miracle he did return them, you sincerely doubted you were a risk he would be willing to take.

He believed himself to be too far gone, too broken and ruined by life.

He believed himself so ugly that he didn’t see how much beauty remained.

His hands were far from clean, but they were his hands. And perhaps there really was a rotten thing inside you too if you didn’t mind them holding yours.

“C’mon then, ‘et some rest,” he said after a lull of quiet between you as he stood up and motioned towards the cot. “It sounds like the storm is headin’ east. Should pass within an hour at ‘his rate.”

Arthur walked towards the chair and sat down stiffly, grabbing his hat and giving it a stern shake. Droplets of water hit the ground and you continued peering at him dumbly.

“You’re not leavin’?” you asked weakly, a part of you still in disbelief he didn’t throw your childish fear back in your face. “You—you don’t have to stay. I’m sure you ‘ave better things you oughta be doin’.”

Arthur adjusted himself on the chair, plopping the hat back on his head while his hand settled on his belt. He glanced at you from under the brim, lips quirking upwards. “It can wait,” he answered shortly, “Now sleep.”

He stretched his legs out in front of him, dipping his head downwards and you gaped at him mutely. From the relaxed sag of his shoulders, you couldn't help but conclude that he was certainly planning on staying and watching over you till the storm passed.

The thought made something in your heart bleed with happiness and you looked away, biting your lip to control the happy smile that was threatening to split across your face.

Pulling back your scratchy quilt, you laid down—clothes and all because the damp made it too chilly to change into undergarments most nights—and dragged the scratchy material around your shoulders. The storm was still going strong outside, though just like Arthur had said earlier, it appeared to be heading away from the camp now.

Your eyes flickered towards the man himself who looked to be asleep, although you had no real way of knowing without checking. Your chair was small though—small and uncomfortable, and you were surprised he managed to find any comfort on it at all. The powerful set of his shoulders filled the space, making everything else appear even smaller. And while it wasn’t the first time Arthur had been inside your little home, it was certainly the first time he stayed while you rested.

A gust of violent wind battered the side of the tent, making you grit your teeth and shiver under your thin quilt. You curled tighter, burying your nose in the fuzzy material while your eyes remained focused on Arthur’s still figure.

There was something intimate about seeing him in your space like this; unguarded and exposed, yet so perfectly at ease. You knew he was a light sleeper despite what he had others believing. One had to be in a world you lived in.

“I can hear ya shiverin’ from over ‘ere,” Arthur spoke suddenly and you jumped, immediately dropping your eyes to the floor. You felt the weight of his gaze on you but kept your own on the ground. “Why do ya only have one quilt?”

“B-Because...Jack gets real cold durin’ the nights so I gave him my spare one,” you confessed, briefly letting your eyes meet his. Something like disbelief reflected back at you before Arthur cleared his throat, briefly scrubbing at the stubble on his face. “I know it ain’t the wisest thing to do.”

“Yer damn right it ain’t,” Arthur groused, standing up and approaching your cot. His jaw clicked and he sighed again, expression oddly troubled. “You do realise that kid has parents, right? Scoot.”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

“If ya get sick ‘cause you gave your quilt away, you’re never gonna hear the end of it,” he pointed out, motioning with his hand for you to move. “Now I much rather that don’t happen. Ya have my word I’m not tryin’ to do anythin’—”

“I know,” you interrupted him gently, scooting back as far as you could to make him space. “Your honour is the last thing I would question around ‘ere, trust me.”

Arthur sat down with a grunt, and the cot creaked for a second, both of you holding your breaths to see if you were about to end up on the ground. He shifted carefully around before lying down on his side, facing you.

It was hard to keep your expression neutral when his face was so close to yours. Your cot had always been small but with Arthur’s broad frame occupying the space as well, it was even smaller. Unnervingly so. Small to the point it was hard not to feel your breaths mingling, hard not to stare at his bare collarbone which was visible due to his slightly unbuttoned shirt.

It was even harder to ignore the heat of his body and the earthy, heady scent of him.

“Ya alright? If you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m fine.”

Arthur stared down at you gravely while you tried to steady your breathing, “I don’t wanna ya to think that I’m using your vulnerability for some ulterior motive.”

“You won’t,” you told him softly, focusing on a button of his shirt even though you could feel his eyes fixed on you. “I know ya think you’re this awful man doomed for damnation but you ain’t. God knows you ain’t innocent but that don’t mean you’re evil either. I’ve met evil men before Arthur Morgan and you ain’t one of ‘em. I see it every day, ya know, the good in you? Hosea always says that actions say more than words anyway,” you finished, taking a tentative peek at his expression.

Arthur’s features hardened, and you could feel the strain in his body, in the way the silence that followed your words felt more potent than your fear.

“(Name)—”

A bright flash, and another clap of thunder hit, causing you to practically jump out of your skin. Your wide eyes flew around the tent, checking if you hadn't been hit no matter how foolish it was. If the lightning had hit, you doubted you would be alive right now.

A warm weight settled on your shoulder firmly, tugging you closer and you willingly sagged against the encompassing warmth.

“Hey, shh. You’re safe.”

He was warm.

You hadn’t realised just how cold you were under the quilt, till the simmering warmth of his body soaked through it, warming you from inside.

“Arthur—”

“Get ‘ome sleep (Name),” his voice was a quiet rumble, and you felt his hot breath brush against the top of your head, causing a tingle to race down your spine. “I’ll—just rest.”

Your mind was too fuzzy from fatigue and you were so warm, soaking in the comfort you hadn’t expected to receive. Arthur’s hand settled between your shoulder blades and you smiled sleepily into his chest. Always the gentleman.

“Arthur?”

He hesitated in answering, and you almost lost yourself to sleep before you heard a faint, “Yeah?”

This was the safest you had ever felt. The most respected and cared for too.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t answer but you didn’t expect him to. Arthur rarely responded to genuine gratitude the way others did. Nevertheless, you still wanted him to know how much his patience and comfort meant to you. You hadn’t expected it—not at all—so you were going to make sure he knew it.

Lost somewhere between awareness and sleep, you could have sworn you heard a soft whisper of his voice one last time.

“You’re a goddamn fool, Arthur Morgan. A goddamn fool.”

. . .

an: so i’m not totally happy with this but I still hope you guys liked it :’))

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption imagine #arthur morgan imagine #rdr #rdr imagine #arthur morgan fic #red dead redemption fic #is this more angst or fluff?? i think fluff... #but i also need to be stopped #he's so interesting tho *aggressive sigh*

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #162

Tanabata has come around once again to offer a generation of high schoolers some false hope in order to distract them from the cruel reality that is life. At least, that’s what the old Tomoko might’ve thought. While the world ultimately didn’t hand everything to her on a silver platter, Tomoko’s half-hearted hope did actually manifest into something she holds dear. The question now remains...

What does she strive for now?          

Chapter 162: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Make A Wish

“I wish that Watamote would get a 2nd season!”

Ahem...moving on.

Nothing like a little friendly brooding to start the day.

In a weird, ironic way, Yuri seems to empathize with Tomoko over mutual apathy. The one constant they share is that they both like to take the path of least resistance in life. While Yuri may be a little off the mark at times, having that unspoken bond is a great point to start from.

So we knew Nemo recognized that Tomoko was a former loner, but Yuri, too? Then again, it’s been hinted at before that Tomoko is kind of an open book and that the people around Tomoko are more perceptive of her than she’d like to believe. So yeah, Yuri knew Tomoko barely had friends before she met her (a fact that likely fuels her codependency tendencies). But like any good friend, Yuri stuck around despite that history.

Still can’t get over her casually calling her Yuri-chan.

For a hardcore introvert like Yuri, doing something for the sake of being social with no practical purpose seems illogical. It makes total sense that traditions like Tanabata aren’t really her cup of tea. Just how much Yuri is aware of that is still kind of fuzzy, but no less endearing, 

Reiterating a joke I made in the previous chapter, but Tomoko really ought to take a crash course in psychological projection.

Taking a stab at Yuri’s desires, now...I’d say it would be to have someone who really understands her. Or for Minami to lose her fang. Either or.

Wow, I wouldn’t have figured that Ucchi was the type to write in all caps.

I always wondered if the sugar-sweet and dragged-out way that moe anime girls yell “Senpaaai!” was actually grating by real-life Japanese standards. Looks like I was right.

Now those school fan clubs for the ridiculously attractive girl/guy that you sometimes see in manga are starting to feel pretty legit right now. 

“Pfft, basic bitches,” thought Tomoko. 

Smooth like butter.

You know, I think that Tomoko being unable to come up with something is a solid indication that she’s relatively satisfied with her life right now. Sure, she has career goals and whatnot, but she no longer feels troubled by material desires or short-term gratification. Like Yuri, it may be that Tomoko has more intangible, emotional desires that aren’t easy to put into words. But also like Yuri, Tomoko may have recently already gained that.

Occasionally–just occasionally–a few earnestly pure-of-heart moments from a cute manga girl is all you really need.

...Especially when it’s immediately offset by Tomoko being Tomoko.

Ohhhh, boy. That last comment by Tomoko is opening up all sorts of questions regarding her sexuality. I’ve mentioned before that Tomoko may be dealing with some sort of gender dysphoria and I think that’s becoming more apparent than ever. For one, her totally normal-not-at-all-creepy desire to NTR her kouhai assumes that only a guy could do that to Hirasawa. It also implies that Tomoko would only acknowledge liking girls if she identified as male. Not once did Tomoko consider that she, as a female, could NTR another female. All in all, there’s a bit of internalized homophobia, repressed sexuality, etc. at play here, and it’s going to take a bit of soul-searching for Tomoko to sort it all out.

Once every thousand years, we get some actual chibi art out of this series.

Bless you, Nico Tanigawa.

The best part of this Hirasawa-vision is that Tomoko is drawn exactly the same, just with lighter tones. Hirasawa’s not blind, just optimistic, which makes her heroine-worship so much more earnest.

Normally, super innocent girls like Hirasawa who get overly excited on trivial things tend to rub me the wrong way, mostly because I have a hard time thinking young girls are that simple-minded. But there’s something about Hirasawa that feels genuine. It may be because her excitement feels like its deriving from a sense of loneliness. Like an overreaction from latching onto any lure of female friendship. 

It’s also just cute.

Tomoko...I’m pretty sure that’s your confirmation bias talking right there.

We don’t even need to see anything above the waist, but you can tell exactly who this is based on context alone...

I was wondering how Ucchi actually manages to do that Darth Vader thing with her mouth...

...then I remembered how her face looks and it makes perfectly no sense.

Guys, I...I think Ucchi finally broke.

Actually, Miyazaki, it may not be phrased as a wish, but it definitely is a wish...

I really enjoy the little bits of characterization in everyone’s wishes. For Yuri and Tomoko, like the BFFs they are, they have the same, most basic wish since they don’t really have any other burning desires. It’s also short and sweet, and without any fluff, as they would normally be if speaking out loud. And lastly, Yuri doesn’t leave her last name, as if she doesn’t want to attach herself onto her wish that far. 

Katou, on the other hand, is all giddy and sweet, using words like “hope” and “together” when effectively making the same wish. She uses “we” without naming anyone, making it an all-inclusive wish. Just what you’d expect from the class mom.

Tomoko’s habit of “lying on reflex” actually makes a great deal of sense. She’s the type who has trouble expressing her vulnerabilities, and lying is a standard defense mechanism, just like Yuri’s noncommital attitude, Nemo’s passive aggression, and whatever Katou most certainly has.  

Oh, Yuri, you precious bean. I know jokes aren’t your forte, but your emotional responses–or lack thereof–makes for a great punchline.

Did ya’ll notice how Tomoko’s second wish is exactly what Imae wished for last year? Tomoko may not always make the best decisions when comes to carrying the torch of The Great Megumi Imae, but you can’t deny that she’s making a concerted effort.

Guess Tomoko isn’t the only one with enough nerve to turn a Tanabata wish into a dirty joke...

Damn, we all knew that Fuuka was getting an unhealthy fixation over Katou and Tomoko’s “secret” relationship, but never to the point where it was affecting her studies, and by extension, her after-high school prospects. It hints that the series may be taking this misunderstanding into a direction that’s not entirely played for gags. It’s a risky move because such a development could easily come across as contrived if taken seriously, but if they keep it character-driven a la Ucchi, it could make for some really engaging moments. 

C’mon, Fuuka. How did you think people were going to take that?

Of all of the people who’ve been “corrupted” by Tomoko, Fuuka may be taking the most damage out of all of them. Poor thing.   

Let’s see here...

Sometimes I worry about Itou’s sense of self when she always identifies herself by her relationships with others.

Yo, Komiyama doesn’t even bother mentioning the Lottes by name because “Who else of any importance could it possibly be?”. Never lose faith, Komi.

Sweet, naïve Mike. She (and her boyfriend who’s somehow still kicking) is set up to be this series’ greatest tragedy.

This is Tomoko Kuroki, everyone. The girl who can’t see the raging emoji-faced horndog right in front of her, but will misconstrue a single misunderstanding as a pervert. Selective perception, ain’t it?

Well, it is a great opportunity to anonymously judge people’s inner desires, so Tomoko’s probably right.

Here we go again...

Nice to see that Nemo has practical, but optimistic expectations for her goal. She knows that she’s in her prime and is ready to hit the ground running. 

The thing about Yoshida’s wish is that it implies that she knows she’ll be faced with resistance. Still, I gotta respect her individuality.

Okada’s wish feels like a cry for help if you look at it another way. That’s probably not the case, though. Probably.

That’s the beauty of it all, Tomoko. In the end, you really didn’t do anything. At least, not directly. What you did was make yourself into an example for Nemo to follow. One of Tomoko’s greatest attributes is that she’s unapologetically herself, which is how she eventually got noticed–and in Nemo’s case, admired–in the first place.   

Quakey legs + short people problems = cute Tomoko. 

Aw man, what I wouldn’t give for this to be a running gag. That in all those chapters where Tomoko was all alone, there was actually somebody she knows now that was in the scene, too. It (sort of) first happened with the dick-pics-in-class chapter and the three-legged race guy, after all. Poor Tomoko has all this baggage that can be used against her now.

For those with shitty memory like me...

“I want to lose my virginity in a year so I don’t lose track of my bigger goals.”

Of course, she’d forget about the part that actually mattered.

Well, you know, Tomoko, they do say that every joke/lie has a kernel of truth.

I noticed that a lot of (comedy) manga seems to like elevating the value of losing(or saving) one’s virginity to absurd levels, at least in the inexperienced minds of its teenaged male characters. Tomoko herself has perpetuated this notion in the past. But even so, the “in-universe” outside of Tomoko’s mind never really aggrandizes sex, and I find that it to be a very refreshing change that shows how, in reality, as Nemo suggests, losing your virginity isn’t really that big of a damn deal.  

Good ol’ Tomoko logic at its finest.

Nemo looks...surprisingly serious about that. Normally that kind of talk would catch her off guard a little, but she had no hesitation with that retort. I think that’s solid evidence that Nemo has done more research into the nature of the voice acting industry, especially after Tomoko unintentionally trolled her with that eroge. 

This could lead to even more intellectual (if not openly sexual) conversations between Tomoko and Nemo that go beyond their usual bantering. That’d be pretty lit. 

Well, if Tomoko is a direct reflection of the author, then she probably thinks light novels are mostly for loser otaku trying to live their perverted fantasies through self-insert literature (at least, what I gathered from Write Sisters).

Well, I’m be damned if that isn’t blatant foreshadowing for where Tomoko’s future is headed.

Even though I saw it coming a mile away, it still gives me the warm fuzzies.

As fantastic as it would be for Tomoko to be an accomplished light novelist with Nemo voicing a character in her anime adaptation, I feel like that level of success would be a little out of reach for this series’ approach to realism. 

If I were to look into the future, I’d say that Tomoko would write a light novel that’d be successful just enough to be greenlit for an ultimately mediocre anime adaptation. And Nemo, being a rookie, would either be not cast at all, or be given a bit part for a background character.

Of course, that’s all speculation. As Nemo says, the freedom to dream is the one thing we can count on. And if there’s one thing the mangaka has learned from doing this series, it’s that being realistic doesn’t mean you can’t have a happy ending. 

I guess being considerate/decent to complete strangers is still locked out of Tomoko’s comfort zone. 

I think we found a member of Rena’s family.

Man, the more we get these tidbits of Imae’s legacy affecting the school (and Tomoko), the more nostalgic I get for her. I sincerely hope we get to see her at least one last time before the series is over.

And in tried-and-true Watamote fashion, we get a little bit of Tomoko’s wisdom to end off another thought-provoking chapter.

In retrospect, there wasn’t a whole lot of “action” in this chapter that could be built upon later. It was mostly a series of gags sprinkled with some nice conversation (at least until Nemo’s part). One of the core themes that Nico Tanigawa seems to be playing with is, “Now that Tomoko has come this far, where does she go from here?” And the answer is...

They don’t know. 

Legitimately, I don’t think the mangakas know exactly what Tomoko’s endgame will be. Sure, they have some strong ideas in terms of school and career, but nothing definitive. As s result, I think playing with the gags and jokes a bit more is their way of “stirring the pot” and seeing what comes out. All of Watamote’s greatest developments did originate from comedy, after all. The first Tanabata chapter is a prime example of this, and I have no reason to think that the stars of the second Tanabata chapter won’t shine over Tomoko once again.

#watamote #watamote review #chapter 162 #no matter how i look at it it's you guys' fault i'm not popular! #tomoko kuroki #yuri tamura #mako tanaka #shizuku hirasawa #emiri ucchi #asuka katou #sakaki fuuka #hina nemoto #review