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therealcocoshady · 2 months

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RED CARPET APPEARANCE 🎥

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

This is Part 2 of Daddy's Spaghetti 🥰

Synopsis : You argue with Em about a red carpet appearance at the Oscars.

The last thing you wanted was to argue with your boyfriend right before going to the Oscars, but there you were. Lately, the two of you had been arguing quite a bit. To be fair, both of you were working a lot and being in a long distance relationship didn’t help. Not only did you have to manage hectic schedules, you also had to deal with time difference and last minute changes in plans. You had been dating Marshall for a few months now and you weren’t too sure how long things would last. Sure, when you were together, things were great, but actually getting together seemed impossible, these days. Right when you thought you could both make time, there was always something coming up, like an unplanned studio session, a meeting, or God knows what else. It didn’t help either that Marshall was paranoid about the two of you being seen together.

After more than a decade in the spotlight and living in Los Angeles, you were used to paparazzi and having your picture taken whenever you were running errands. Of course, sometimes, it was annoying, but you had learned to live with it. Marshall, on the other hand, in spite of having a career lasting over twenty-five years was as paranoid as one could get. It was one of the many reasons why he hated being in Los Angeles and always tried to get you to come to Detroit instead, along with the weather being too hot. In truth, you didn’t mind going to Michigan or spending a lot of time inside, just the two of you. This time, however, you wished he would be the one making an effort. You were nominated for an Oscar for the first time and it was a big night for you. You knew he wasn’t a big fan of public appearances but you wished he would agree to coming with you. After all, he was a nominee himself - for the same movie as you, mind you - and everyone pretty much knew about your relationship, even though none of you had officially confirmed it. To you, there was no reason not to walk the red carpet together. However, when you asked him if he would be your date to the Academy Awards, he wasn’t too enthusiast. In fact, all you got from him was a « erm, I don’t know. We’ll see. Let me think about it. ». And after giving it some thought, he decided not to go with you, breaking it to you over FaceTime, three days before the event. He brought up a bunch of reasons, like having a studio session with Dre that might run late and prevent him from making it in time, hating the red carpet anyway and not wanting to be paraded in a suit that made him look like a penguin. He did not seem to care that you having to take someone else as your date would mean you wouldn’t be sitting next to each other or that you would have wanted him to be by your side. You were mad. You had always known he didn’t really care about awards and public appearances, but you wished he would make an effort for you. Him being set in his ways made you feel like he wouldn’t put you first, just for once.

Do you even want to be with me ? You blurted out after he told you to find another date.

What the fuck ? He asked with disbelief all over his face. What does that have to do with that damn red carpet, Y/N ?

You cancelled the last time you were supposed to come to LA, you’re never available and now you won’t even make an effort for me, you explained. If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say so…

You’re so dramatic, they better give you that Oscar, he groaned. Not everything is about you, you know ? I’m working my ass off to get the album done in time, I don’t need you complaining over a stupid red carpet appearance.

Oh I’m being dramatic ? You asked as you stared at his face on the screen. I’ll give you drama : you can book a hotel room and forget about all the nasty things you were planning on doing to me in bed for next time we were supposed to see each other.

Whatever, he said as he rolled his eyes. Just go and rehearse your acceptance speech. I have to go anyway. I have Dre calling on the other line. I’ll call you later.

He did try to call you a couple of hours later, but you didn’t feel like picking up. You were still pissed off and, frankly, a little stressed out too. After all, he hadn’t answered your question about wanting to be with you. You knew you’d have to talk to him at some point - and get to the bottom of the situation, but you also didn’t want to break up over the phone merely three days before one of the most important events of your life. Whatever it was, it could wait until after the Oscars.

You ended up walking the red carpet with your older brother as your date. The two of you were extremely close and he had always been your plus one to events. It sort of made sense to go to the Oscars with him, even though you would have loved to have Marshall by your side. Your big brother was all smiles as he watched you pose for the photographers in a stunning custom Alaïa dress. However, your attire or possible Best Actress win wasn’t exactly the main focus of the journalists, who were yelling questions about your boyfriend who was nowhere to be found.

Where is Eminem, Y/N ? One asked. Is he coming tonight ?

Are the two of you together ? Another yelled.

You didn’t answer the questions about him, only the ones about your nomination, how you’d feel about winning, the movie and your outfit. You tried to focus on the positives and everything this night meant for your career, but you had a hard time focusing. All you wanted was Marshall’s hand in yours and him to be by your side. Hell, you had even picked the dress color because you thought he would like it. You knew that blue was his favorite color and had figured that, if the two of you were to walk the red carpet together, it would make his eyes pop.

Breathe, your brother said. You look tense. Is this about Em ?

Just call him by his name, you said as you rolled his eyes. You’ve met him.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be your date and enjoy the open bar, he continued, but you look… upset ?

I think he wants to break up with me, you said nervously.

No he doesn’t, your brother scoffed. Where did you get that from ?

Well, he’s never available, he didn’t want to be here with me tonight, and he called me dramatic, and…

First of all, you are dramatic, your brother chuckled. Also, you know he’s working a lot…

I should have known better than to ask his biggest fan for support, you said as you rolled your eyes.

Just shut up and focus on your big night, sis, he said with a smile. My baby sister might be getting the biggest award there is for being dramatic, tonight. Now, I think we should focus on that, as well as the fact that stylists managed to make you look presentable.

Your brother’s weird encouragement was a good way to make you smile, and the glasses of champagne waiters kept on handing you did a great job when it came to taking the edge off. You were taken to your seats and the ceremony began. You kept nervously searching for Marshall in the crowd but you didn’t manage to spot him. Was he skipping the whole thing ? Your mind wandered as the ceremony unfolded and you were soon on autopilot. It was your first time attending the Academy Awards and this had to be the longest ceremony ever. The only entertaining things were the various performances. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the music of Marshall’s song - the one he had written for the movie. He was not supposed to perform tonight - this had not been announced - but he was on stage, rapping the song that got him his second Oscars nomination exactly twenty years after winning Best Original Song for Lose Yourself. The crowd was wild and you were excited as well. Seeing him on stage made you forget how mad at him you were and you were back to being his number one fan, gushing over how good he looked and rapping the lyrics at the same time, like the groupie you very much were. His performance got him a standing ovation and, twenty minutes and a commercial break later, he was back on stage, accepting the award for Best Original Song. Only this time, he was conforming to the Academy’s dress code, looking dapper in a tux. He might hate this type of outfit, but no one could deny he looked absolutely incredible. One detail did catch your eye : the bow tie he was wearing was made of the same fabric as your dress. He was matching with you !

When you wouldn’t return his calls, he called me to ask who you were going to wear, your brother told you.

He did ? You squeed.

Yep. Not the kind of thing anyone who wants to break up with you would do, I think. I’m not supposed to tell you, but he’s got another one to match your second dress, too…

You couldn’t help but smile. The fact that he would go out of his way to call your brother, as well as the dressmakers to have a bowtie matching your dress was absolutely adorable. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Marshall, who was giving a heartfelt speech about how great it felt to have the Academy acknowledge hip-hop and how grateful he was to have the opportunity to be on this stage, two decades after Lose Yourself won. His speech was just like him : elegant and understated. When he went back to his seat, you could see him search for you in the crowd and you waved quietly, sending him a kiss. You couldn’t wait to go and hug him.

Can’t you behave ? Your brother chuckled. There’s cameras, Y/N. And try not to eye fuck him or drool, this time, will you ?

I’ll try, you giggled.

You were almost in agony the rest of the night and the two of you kept looking and smiling at each other. As always when the two of you were in the same room, you were unable to take your eyes off him for a single second. You didn’t pay much attention to anything else that was going on, so much so that you almost missed your name being called for Best Actress. Everyone around you got up and cheered for you and you were lost. You had actually won an Oscar ?! You ? It didn’t feel right. Bit it was indeed, your name on the screen, and people kept on looking at you. Your brother had to help you get up as you came to your senses and realized that your childhood dream had come true. You made your way to the stage as tears of joy were welling in your eyes. You were almost shaking with nerves as you started your acceptance speech. You had one written and memorized but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. You spotted Marshall in the crowd, who was smiling and looking at you with pride in his eyes, mouthing a silent « I love you ».

I… Wow, you said nervously into the microphone. I can’t believe this is happening. I had something really heartfelt, clever and funny written but I can’t remember a single word so please bear with me. Hum… Standing here, on this stage, holding this award is a childhood dream come true. First, I want to thank my family who has always supported my passion, and I’d like to thank everyone in Hollywood that gave me a chance to act. And everyone who didn’t. In fact, I want to acknowledge every person who doubted me. And every boyfriend of mine who called me dramatic. There have been a few, and you best believe I’m creating a group chat tonight and telling them that I actually got an award for being dramatic and made it my full-time job. Um… What else ? Oh, uh, thank you to my manager, assistant, glam squad… Shout out to Alaïa for getting me into this dress tonight, and shout out to Marshall Mathers who will be taking it off me tonight. Dreams do come true, guys !

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter and you could see Marshall laughing before you exited the stage. When you made it backstage, you took a moment to sit and realize what just happened. You had won an Oscar. Oh, and you had accidentally mentioned Marshall taking off your clothes. On stage. While million of people probably watched the ceremony on TV… Oops. A few people came to congratulate you, though you were quickly ushered back to your seat for the remainder of the ceremony. The movie you were in did not end up winning Best Picture, but you easily got over your disappointment. When the ceremony ended, you were swarmed by an army of people who came to congratulate you. You even got to hug Meryl Streep and tell her how she was the one who made you want to act in the first place, and this was definitely the highlight of your night. Your brother had gotten out of your sight and was enjoying the open bar, as he always did whenever he came with you to an event. When the crowd began to vacate, you had a moment to yourself. That’s when you spotted your boyfriend.

Congratulations, he said as he pulled you into his arms.

Congratulations to you too, you said giddily. You were amazing on stage !

As were you, he replied with a smile. Great speech, by the way…

Oh my God, I am so sorry, you said. I forgot my speech, and I-I… Are you mad ?

It’s fine, he chuckled. You’re way too adorable for me to be mad.

Really ? You asked nervously. I know how you are about privacy…

Really, he said reassuringly. And with you looking like this… ? I am glad everyone knows you’re spoken for.

I think they got the idea when they saw you matching with me, you said with excitement.

You like it ? He asked with a smile. I had to ask your brother and harass the dressmakers. They hate me.

He told me, you said giddily. And I know you have another one to match my dress for the afterparty, too…

If you still want me as your date, that is, he pointed out.

I do, you giggled. But I’m going to need your help to get out of this dress and into the other…

Let’s go, then.

He grabbed your hand and you walked out of the theater, holding your awards, while an army of journalists were screaming to get your attention. You half-expected Marshall to let go of your hand, knowing how guarded he was when it came to the press, but he only squeezed it tighter before grabbing you by the waist as you made your way to a car.

Em, how are you feeling tonight ? A journalist asked.

Have you seen my date ? I’m great, man, he grinned as he looked at you lovingly.

VIDEO : WATCH AS EMINEM GUSHES OVER Y/N AFTER THE OSCARS

Eminem & Y/N have officially confirmed their relationship ! The couple did not walk the red carpet together but they certainly made a memorable exit, as Eminem gushed over his date to journalists while not letting go of her. This happened after Y/N hinted at Em taking her Alaïa dress off her in her acceptance speech. While the Rap God did not mention his girlfriend in his own speech, he certainly appeared in love. While known for his stoic face, he was seen smiling all evening, especially when they made their way to the Vanity Fair afterparty (almost an hour late, mind you…) in matching outfits. And if he does not seem like one to kiss and tell, no one missed Y/N’s lipstick all over his mouth, nor the hickies in his neck.

That night was a big one for the rapper and the movie star, as they both took home statues, respectively for Best Original Song and Best Actress. And from the looks of it, they certainly celebrated.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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avatar-anna · 1 year

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young mom or professor !!

It was a busy afternoon at the Styles residence. Hair and makeup teams were running around, style teams were laying out last-minute options in case he or Y/n wished to change their outfit ideas for the night, and obviously, his most important team was hard at work to get him ready.

"Stay still, Daddy!" Collette, his second daughter said, looking up at him with a pout.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll try my best," Harry said, nodding for her to continue painting his nails. He peered down at her, eyeing the careful work she was doing. "You're quite good at this, you know."

Collette didn't look up from his hand, but Harry saw her smile, one that was nearly identical to her mother's if it wasn't for the dimples in her cheeks. "Thank you."

Before he could respond, Harry's chin was being tilted up by Simone. "This should make the bags under your eyes go away," she said, placing gel masks just under his eyes.

Harry tried not to frown at the implication that he had bags under his eyes to begin with. He never thought his daughters would be so brutally honest, but they never minced their words, especially when it came to his appearance.

So instead of opening that can of worms, he asked who was helping their mum get ready.

"The twins, but I think it's more pretend," Simone said, combing his eyebrows in place with a little brush.

"I see," he mumbled. "Well, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to help me look pretty."

In truth, Simone was so excited about Harry going to the Grammys, she wanted to be a part of it in some way, shape, or form. She wouldn't be able to go, as that would stir up a media frenzy. For the first time, though, Harry had considered risking it all just so he could have a Daddy-daughter date tonight. Ultimately, he decided that it was better to keep that secret a secret, though he did have to promise to get Olivia Rodrigo's autograph and bring it home by the end of the night to make up for Simone not going. How he was going to manage that, he had no idea.

Still, it was a big night, for many reasons. Not only was Harry nominated for some of the night's biggest awards, Y/n was also joining him, marking their first public appearance. Ever.

His wife had been nervous, and rightfully so, but Harry wanted her to be there, wanted to spend this night with the people he loved, and there was no one else he loved more than Y/n. Except for his children, obviously.

So Y/n was in a different room getting her hair and makeup done, preparing for a night no one would soon forget while Harry was letting his two oldest children pamper him before he had to get dressed.

"Do you know what your mum is wearing? She refuses to tell me," Harry said. Simone seemed to be done with his face for the time being and was helping Collette paint his nails.

"We're not going to tell you, either!" Collette said.

Harry frowned playfully. "And that is why Julian is my favorite. He would've told me."

The girls giggled before continuing on. When it came time for Harry to start getting dressed in his red carpet outfit—a fun jumpsuit that passed voting from all six of his children (mostly four because Geneva and Natalia couldn't talk yet, but they seemed as excited as they could be)—Simone and Collette watched with wide eyes. The hair and makeup teams, who were all under strict NDAs, were incredibly kind to Harry's daughters and even styled their hair and put a little blush and lip gloss on them. Harry could only be glad that they got to have a small part of this whole experience.

He was ready in no time, and suddenly it was time to go. Harry waited patiently and anxiously downstairs as the time to walk on the red carpet drew nearer. He was nervous about tonight for so many reasons, but all he could think about was what revealing such a well-kept secret would mean for his family.

Had they really thought this through? Did Y/n want to come tonight or was she humoring Harry? Would she be more comfortable watching from a dressing room? Or even here at home? What if something happened to GiGi or Natalia or Maeve—

"Harry?"

All his thoughts came to a halt as his wife appeared in front of him, brows furrowed with concern.

And as he blinked, taking her in for the first time since she disappeared to get ready, the only thought he was capable of thinking was he was pretty sure he'd just fallen in love all over again.

Y/n had secretly gone to a handful of events for years, they'd gone to dates at fancy restaurants, and had attended weddings that required dressing up. But all of those times Y/n had dressed to blend into the background so as not to raise suspicion. Tonight, however...

Tonight Y/n was meant to stand out, was meant to be noticed. She was in a dress of gauzy, white fabric that gathered in ruffles all the way down until the gown hit the floor. The fabric was light enough to see just a hint of skin, but not enough to reveal much, though Harry could identify every curve and dip her body made. She was ethereal, an angel in white, almost like—

"It almost looks like a wedding dress, huh?" Y/n mused, twisting so the gown swished back and forth on the floor. "Don't know if I would've worn this to our wedding, though."

Harry and Y/n never had a big white wedding. They'd snuck out to a courthouse one afternoon while One Direction was touring, with Niall and Louis as their witnesses while Liam distracted everyone at the hotel. It was small and rushed, and the judge definitely thought the couple was much too young to be getting married. They didn't even have rings, as a wedding band on Harry's finger would be completely unacceptable. But none of that mattered as they both recited the vows they prepared and sealed their union with a kiss.

Her jokes did the trick, and Harry's brain began functioning normally once more. He grinned and took her hand so she could spin and show him the whole thing. "The judge definitely would've raised his eyebrows."

Years went by and they never had a vow renewal. Since Harry had bought out his contract with One Direction's management, he'd wanted to have a proper wedding, but there was just never any time. And now that they were six kids in, free time was a pipe dream, though they were the kind of busy he would never be sorry for.

Tonight, though, in this dress, Y/n looked like she could walk down an aisle, and Harry was nearly tempted to run upstairs and grab the velvet box he'd had since he was seventeen years old.

"If you're not ready, I completely understand," he said.

"I'm nervous about tonight," Y/n admitted, and with one look at her face, Harry could see the anxiety written all over it.

They could keep the secret going, he could brave this night with Kid and Jeffrey and it would be great. He would miss Y/n and the rest of his family, but he would manage as he always did.

Y/n shook her head, and Harry's shoulders sagged just the tiniest bit with relief. "I want to be with you tonight. This is a big deal."

"It's nothing—"

"Don't do that," Y/n chided, holding Harry's face in her hands. "Don't minimize what a great achievement just being nominated is."

Y/n knew Harry like no one else. She knew he would try to downplay tonight if it made her worry about him less, but this was his big night. Win or lose, she was immensely proud of him, he had to know that.

"I'm coming, you just have to promise to hold my hand the entire night," she said.

Harry grinned. "What if I win and have to make a big speech?"

She wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. "Then and only then can you let go. Oh, and for your performance. But that's it."

"I think I can make that work."

Harry leaned in, his nose brushing against Y/n's teasingly until she pressed her lips against his. They were hardly brushing when the sound of footsteps hurtled down the stairs.

"Mommy! Simone says she gets to stay up all night to watch the show and I don't!"

"You're not old enough, Collette!"

"Neither are you!"

"Daddy, don't go," Julian cried, tugging on Harry's pant leg. He gave Y/n a look as they pulled apart to attend to their children. Sweeping Jules into his arms, he gave his only son a kiss on the cheek, which was already sticky with shed tears.

"Don't cry, Julian," he said softly, pushing the boy's thick hair from his face. "We won't be gone long. I promise."

Julian continued to cry, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Harry's neck, and Harry whispered softly into his ear until his son's little heart stopped beating so wildly in his chest. Jules hiccuped as Harry walked over to see that the argument between Maeve and Collette had been settled, and they were now admiring Y/n in her dress.

"I wish I could take you with me, Jules, but I don't think you'd like it very much," Harry said. He tried to set his son down, but his little legs clung to Harry's waist even tighter. "It'll be loud with lots of bright lights and not a chicken nugget in sight. I think it's best you stay home, don't you think?"

Julian nodded, but he was still clinging to Harry, who shot a look of desperation to his wife. Harry loved all of his children dearly, but they were on a tight schedule.

Y/n understood and took Julian into her arms, not at all worried about the couture dress she was wearing. She took him back upstairs where the babysitter was with Geneva and Natalia and Maeve. When she came back down a couple minutes later, Julian was gone.

"Poor thing tired himself out," she explained. Then, to her two oldest children, she said, "The second the last acceptance speech is done, up to bed. Understood?"

Simone and Collette nodded, then rushed forward to hug Y/n and Harry before ushering them out of the house, telling them to say hi to Auntie Lizzo.

As promised, Harry took Y/n's hand as they walked to the car that would take them to the theater that was hosting the Grammys. She looked at him appreciatively, resting her head on his shoulder as the car pulled away from their house.

"I'm proud of you," she said out of the blue. "If I don't get the chance to say it when you win, when you win," she repeated when Harry tried to object. "I just want you to know how proud I am of you, and not just as an artist, but as a dad and a husband too. You're one in a million, H, and I'm so happy I get to be a small part of that."

Harry was speechless. There was nothing to say that would express how much he appreciated Y/n, so he settled for a kiss. His hand was steady as he cradled the back of her head, his lips immediately finding the familiar place around her bottom lip. He suddenly wished Y/n's dress didn't have so much fabric so he could have better access to her, but he settled for trailing his hands up and down her arms and kissing all along her jaw and neck and chest until she eventually pulled him up again.

"This is one way to settle nerves," she joked, thumb grazing his jaw.

"Let me know if your nerves need any more settling throughout the night. We can sneak away during commercial breaks."

Y/n shook her head at the look Harry gave her, the same one that landed her pregnant six times. "I'll keep that in mind."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Harry took a bow at the end of his performance, then straightened. His eyes trailed the room back to where his table was, finding Y/n's gaze instantly. Her hands were clasped together tightly, covering the bright smile on her face.

Looking at her, his heart settled. He'd gotten lost in the heat of the performance, but she always managed to bring him back down to earth.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Before he could think about it, he pressed his fingers to his mouth, then gestured out, blowing a kiss to his wife. Not caring who was watching, Y/n reached up and grabbed the kiss out of the air and placed it on her chest, her eyes crinkling even further as she continued to smile from ear to ear.

"So, Harry, talk to us a little about how it feels to win Album of the Year."

Harry gave his answer, talking about how surprised he was to win and what it meant to him that his music meant so much to people. Y/n thought it was cute how he stumbled over his words, trying to piece together how he felt.

"And how do you plan to celebrate? Can we expect to see you at any after parties tonight?"

"Uh, no. It's back home to the little ones for me," he said, the answer rolling off his tongue before it was too late.

"Little ones?"

"My, um, my cats. I have a few cats that are practically my children. I'll be celebrating with them tonight."

"There's no way in hell anyone is gonna believe that," Y/n muttered to Jeff, who was holding his head in his hands, not unlike Harry had when he won earlier.

"Well, Harry, we wish you all the best!"

"Thank you, I appreciate that," he said before shuffling away from the press room.

#harry styles #young parent!harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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satocidal · 7 months

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𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭“It’s ok” — Nanami Kento

A/n: idk why this is so short it what this is—I just know my man is supportive (listen to have longer pieces in the works ok😭? I just had a thought and yes)

[TW: hinted pregnancy]

He had you wrapped up tight in a blanket, steaming hot tea on the stove and an array of snacks at your hand—and he sat beside you worried.

Worried, with the glasses almost tipping off the bridge if his nose and face peering deep into the screen he had open—“it says your symptoms could be seasonal sickness, or…uh, potentially cancer,”

A snort—yours, snorted throughout the room, and then a choked cough—“Ken, mm’ telling you it’s just that I’m a little nauseated but that’s all,” a smile you pass—his eyes never leaving the screen once as his finger continued scrolling—“it’s all ok Kento, im fine,”

“I'm thoroughly sure it isn’t cancer my love,” his words were lowered slight, “but,” a pause, heavy—“it could be something else,”

An eyebrow cocked, your smile faltering slight, “something…else?”

It was then that he kept the phone aside entirely—body turning towards you, “how have you been feeling? Like…overall?”

“Overall?” A hesitant “sore slightly,” you added—a nod and the soothing circles on your hand beckoned you closer—suddenly the temperature seemed to have dropped drastically.

“Soreness…where, abdominal?” Now that question was sudden—new, you couldn’t help but nod to it though, “uhm, yes? But it’s probably because my period- wait,”

Your period…you’d missed it this month, how could you forget? Oh but you did.

The stress you’d blamed it, a nominal lie so to say.

And he did, patiently, waiting for you catch onto what he was drifting about—“you don’t think,” you passed aside—“do you want to test it love? It’s better if we…”

Your eyes panned into his, slight concern tugged behind his voice, you fined.

“What if…?”

“Then we’ll do do as you want, it’s ok, everything is ok—you’re here and I am, it’s ok,”

The silence wasn’t comforting this time—Kento was, not as much as you’d have liked but he was.

“It’s kept in the drawer…” he must’ve known for the moment you turned to the side- to direct him, he held it there already in his hands, two tests.

“I’ll be here, outside, waiting,”

A nod, quiet—oh how you wanted it to be seasonal cold instead—but oh how you wanted it to be something else too.

Something for you, for Kento- together.

All of this work is original and entirely my own please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

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christinaroseandrews · 4 months

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A lot of people are talking about how Disney didn't get nominated for their flagship 100th animated feature, Wish. Which is a big deal, I am not disputing that. This was a stellar year for animation and the academy had a glut of good options that did not include Wish. (I would have liked makoto shinkai's Suzume to be nominated but...)

But I want to talk about something else that is probably sticking in Disney's craw.

None of their Animated movies, in particular Wish, were nominated for "best original song."

Starting in 1940 with "when you Wish upon a Star", Disney's animated features could be counted upon to receive a nomination for best original song often winning the Honor. This includes movies such as Bambi; Saludos Amigos; Cinderella, and that racist mess that Disney would like you to forget, Song of the South. Even during the years after Walt's death a bunch of songs were nominated from things like Pete's Dragon and The Rescuers. But it wasn't until The Little Mermaid and the animation Renaissance that Disney's almost stranglehold and expectation that they're animated films would get nominated for an Oscar for best song really came into the forefront.

Take a walk through the best song nominations from 1989 to now and pretty much the majority of Disney and/or Pixar movies put out in those years has a best song nomination. There are a few exceptions, there always are, but generally when Disney includes original songs in its Animated properties it gets nominated.

That makes this year so odd. Disney technically has a nomination with Diane Warren's song for Flamin' Hot, which I suspect has more to do with the fact that the academy loves to nominate Diane Warren and then never give her the Oscar. ~_^ The big thing I noticed was that there were no nominations for Wish or even Elemental. And even more crucially, there was no one setting up a hue or cry that these movies (particularly Wish) didn't get nominated for best song.

Wish had all of the ingredients to be both an Oscar Bait for best animated feature and best original song. And the academy ignored it.

And frankly, I think this is 100% deserved. Wish was an okay movie. It wasn't good it wasn't bad it was just okay. And it's songs were forgettable.

Worse than that, in my opinion, they were unsingable. And what I mean by that is the songs were so complex so lyrically and musically difficult that a four-year-old in a princess dress would struggle to sing them. There were too many jumps and the lyrics were incredibly tongue twisty and they even sounded difficult for an accomplished singer like Ariana DeBose to sing. Seriously, the chorus of This Wish has so many jumps and drops that it is almost impossible to stay on key and also follow the melody. The music is just there.

When I walked out of the theater, I couldn't remember any of the songs. I still can't. And as most of my friends can tell you I have a bloody musical memory. I remember songs.

The first time I saw Barbie, I had three of the songs (What was I made for, I'm just Ken, and Pink) wrestling for dominance over who was going to be my earworm for the day. The same thing was true with Frozen, Moana, Encanto, beauty and the Beast, and even Tarzan. I still can't remember the music from Wish at all. To even write this, I had to go on YouTube and listen to the songs. And after listening to them, I still can't sing them. But just typing "I'm just Ken" has put that song in my head.

So rather than just celebrating Wish being excluded in a very good year for animation (it was so good, y'all) we should also be laughing and pointing that the Disney's attempts at getting a best song nomination for that movie also went unheeded.

Because I sure am.

#wish #disney wish #academy award nominations #oscars 2024 #best original song #best animated feature #wish was ingored #as it should be

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electronicwitchcollection · 7 months

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Accidental mate; chapter 5

I’m going to stop introducing other characters and bring you more Grimmjow/reader interactions soon, honest 😂

You had made the long walk to your own division in search of Captain Kuchiki, wanting to brief him of your mission and return home. You replayed the conversation you had with the Head Captain through your mind as you traveled. He had asked if you believed you could be the one to teach Grimmjow, bring him into the fold. You sincerely hoped he would forget that ridiculous notion.

A week was more than long enough spent in his company. You didn't want to be lumbered with that task, you'd go crazy. You and Grimmjow were just too different. Yet quite similar, you hated to admit. You were both stubborn, unafraid of speak what was on your mind. You had always thought you were quite even tempered, not rising to anger, simply letting things go. Yet with Grimmjow you matched his outbursts.

There was just something about him that riled you up, made you quick to snap at his snarky remarks. You didn't like that, you weren't mean or violent, yet he made you want to throttle him multiple times a day. It would be better for everyone if someone else took over his training, better for him better for you. Familiar faces passing by snapped you from your musings, sending your comrades a cheery wave as you made your way past the Captains koi pond. You hurried up to the main office, hoping your captain would be in a good mood and allow you the rest of the day off.

You knocked on the open office door, peaking your head through as you softly called out "Captain Kuchiki?" You heard a rustle of papers, the drag of a chair against wooden floorboards followed by the sound of footsteps, too heavy to be the soft footed Captain.

"He's not here" Lieutenant Abari called to you as he made his way through the office. Face splitting into a wide familiar grin as you came into view, "YN! " He wrapped you in a brief but powerful bear hug which you happily returned. It was refreshing having human contact without the threat of your arm being bitten off

"Hey Renji, Captain isn't here?" You asked, walking further into the room at Renji's beckoning hand gesture. He walked back to his desk, perching on the edge of it to face you. He had his arms crossed over his chest loosely, already shaking his head

"He got called away to deal with some noble clan stuff, how was your trip?" The grin he gave you told you everything you needed to know, Renji had already had the pleasure of meeting Grimmjow. The amount of glee on his face at the prospect of you spending the whole week with him was irking you ever so slightly. You had the feeling Renji was the one to nominate you to the Head Captain for that particular task, simultaneously sidestepping the privilege and dropping you well and truly in it.

His smug grin only cemented your suspicions. You and Renji had become friends through another mutual friend many years ago. Your friendship was very much that of squabbling siblings, plenty of teasing and and good natured jabs . You loved him dearly though, and knew he felt the same about you. He was as protective over you as he was all his friends and you made sure he was looking after himself when he got consumed with training or work.

"Probably went as good as you think it did" you shot him a knowing look, falling heavily onto the chair facing his desk. The weeks travel and the extreme emotions you've been dealing with the past week were catching up to you, you were exhausted "It was a nightmare Renji."

Renji chucked at the look on your face, reaching over to mess up your hair playfully, retracting it quickly just before you swatted his hand away "and here I thought you were just the girl for the job"

"I knew it was you!" Suspicions confirmed. You would be getting him back for this, mark your words. "I've already told the Head Captain my report, he seemed happy with the way the mission went"

"How was it really?" He asked, Lieutenant mask replacing his shit eating grin. Renji took his position seriously, and while he was happy to be be friendly, tease and joke with his subordinates, he could knuckle down and be serious when the time called for it. It was something you actually really admired about him, not that you would ever voice that, his head was big enough as it was

"I had seen what I needed too. He's a good fighter, strong, talented. " you decided to give him the brief report, he could read all the details in your written report when you finally get a chance to write it. "But he's got an issue with authority. He doesn't work well as part of a team, and, I cannot stress this enough, he is the biggest asshole I've ever had the misfortune of meeting"

Renji threw his head back as he barked out his most honest laugh. His stance had relaxed at your less than official end to your report, easing back into his relaxed posture. You were sure he wasn't even aware of it anymore, how effortlessly he changed between lieutenant and friend "Yeah, he's a real piece of work. Tries to take off Ichigo's head every time they see eachother, and every one likes that guy"

He wasn't wrong. You didn't know Ichigo well, had spoken a few times in passing due to having similar friends. Even without the fact that Ichigo had saved soul society multiple times, often at his own risk, he was a really nice guy. The fact that Grimmjow couldn't stand him spoke volumes about Grimmjow himself. "Well, now you can add me to the list of people Grimmjow would rather see without their head" you mumble from behind your hands, tiredly rubbing your face. Fatigue was catching up quickly, and as much as you enjoyed Renji's company, if you didn't leave soon you'd end up asleep on this chair

"Did he hurt you?" The dangerous change in tone had you peeking through your fingers. Renji's posture had straightened up, deeply unhappy look on his face. He looked just about ready to go find the espada himself, fingers slowly curling into loose fists. Renji had an unbreakable sense of honour, and hitting women was at the top of that list. He wouldn't stand for it, in any situation, especially if it involved on of his friends. You couldn't help but smile at his overprotectiveness.

"No, Renji. He didn't hurt me." You placate him quickly, watching the sudden anger fizzle out of him. His hotheadedness hadn't change much over the years, though he was working on listening to the full story before reacting. Something you greatly appreciated in that moment, you didn't want to chase him all over souls society trying to calm him down "We just argued the whole time, you know me, I don't usually bite my tongue"

Renji smile at your attempt of humour. He knew that all too well, you've both hand your share of arguments with eachother, both to stubborn to let the other have the win, wether you were right or wrong. "Hope you gave as good as you got"

"Of course." You match his smile, standing with an exaggerated stretch "Im going to head home for the rest of the day. Can you let the Captain know I'll report in first thing in the morning? I'll try and write up the report tonight"

Renji nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he walked you to the door "try and get some rest. You look like shit" you elbowed him roughly in the side, enjoying the grunt you pulled from him. Asshole. He should try spending the week with Grimmjow on the road, bet he wouldn't look half as good as you managed to look.

——————————————————

Grimmjow was practically vibrating with pent up frustration. After the Captains had disappeared, and you had stormed off, he attempted to follow the captains to finish what they had started. Especially that big one. The one that dared to approach you, you, covered in his scent. His mark. Luckily for them, Grimmjow had lost the scent, too many shinigami polluting the air.

He had been aimlessly stalking around, trying to let off steam. He wasn't yet ready to return to where he was staying. He hadn't been allocated a place yet, wouldn't until he was placed into a division. He was temporarily staying in a room changed into a makeshift bedroom in that hat wearing idiots lab, near the edge of the twelfth division. The location wasn't bad, it was just outside a large Forrest, perfect for running and training. Further into the Forrest, leaving the walls that surrounded the shinigamis territory, he had found a few hollows he could hunt.

He didn't know if that goofy bastard was here or in the world of the living though, and wasn't in the mood to put up with his moronic insistence of trying to engage Grimmjow in conversation. During his rage filled walk, Grimmjow had gotten a little turned around. Actually, he didn't have a damn clue where he was. All the streets and buildings looked the exact same, so he didn't notice the fact he was in an unknown division until it was too late to retrace his steps

He wasn't lost. He just wasn't where he thought he was. He couldn't pick up any scents to indicate where he was, or in which direction he should be headed. He would rather chew off his own arm than ask one of the shinigami hurrying past him, avoiding eye contact, for directions . Fucking looking at him as though he were going to bite them. Idiots. Shinigami wouldn't taste good anyway.

The memory of your arousal coating his tongue pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. He could practically taste the phantom memory, mouth filling with saliva. Grimmjow angrily kicked at the ground, sending a puff of dust into the air and startling two shinigami that were passing by. Pussies. Grimmjow snarled at them for good measure, watching disgusted as they scarpered.

His skin was crawling. He hated how you were still invading his mind. Damn witch. It had been a couple of hours since he last saw you, with each passing hour his stomach twisted harder with a deep sense of unease. He was loosing his damn mind. He could still taste you on his tongue, feel you in his arms, smell you in the air. Wait. No, he could actually smell you in the air.

Grimmjow came to an abrupt halt, picking up the faint notes of your scent, his own signature musk intertwined with it. He followed the invisible trail, inhaling deeply, keeping it locked in his sights. As the smell became stronger, the buildings became further apart. Trees could be spotted over the top of the wall, the smell of grass filtering through the leaves.

He came to a stop out side of a small building where your scent was most powerful. This must be your den. Catching movement in one of the windows, Grimmjow jumped up the wall, camouflaging in the lush leaves of the tree, perching on a sturdy branch. He waited patiently, scanning the windows for sign of movement. He should leave. What was he even doing there, watching, waiting for any sign of you. It was pathetic. Weak. He growled deep in his chest at his behaviour, willing himself to leave.

Then you appeared. A light flicked on in a room containing a large nest, his eyes locked on to you. You had all your hair tied up behind your head, the strands swaying side to side with every step you took. Your body was wrapped in pink, flimsy material, it looked shiny under the light. It exposed your thighs, brushing over the soft skin there. He watched as you reached your bed, crawling over the space to lay on your stomach. You kicked up your legs, lazily swinging them back and forth, feet twisting together, rubbing over the back of your shins.

Grimmjow swallowed roughly, adjusting his stance as he crawled nearer for a better look. His trousers were tightening, restricting his slowly inflating dick. You had something thin and black in your hand. A pen, you were writing. Hand quickly scribbling over the paper laid before you. He watched as you tilted your head, flicking your hair down over one shoulder, teasing him with your exposed neck, his mark, shining brightly against your pale skin. Sending unknowingly, a flush of heat through Grimmjow's body. Grimmjow's tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips, battling with himself internally

Screaming at himself to leave, to run as fast as he could away from you. His body refused to listen to his demands, eyes staying fixated on you. What was happening to him? Grimmjow was strong, he was powerful, he was an alpha. It infuriated him, the spell you had cast on him. He needed to find a way to break it. He needed to leave. Grimmjow pulled all his determination, ready to leap from his hiding spot in the tree, find his way back to his own nest. Then you slowly rolled the pen across your full bottom lip, parting your lips you pulled the pen into your mouth and sucked on the tip gently.

FUCK

Grimmjow shoved his hand down his pants, groaning as he took hold of his throbbing erection and squeezing. His hungry eyes focused on your lips, drinking in the image of your lips surrounding the pen. Grimmjow pulled his hand over his cock, squeezing the tip before rolling it back down the length. With a dissatisfied groan, Grimmjow quickly removed his hand, licking wetly over his palm before shoving it back into the confines of his pants,taking his erection back into his hand with long, strong tugs. His hand felt insignificant compared to the tight, wet heat of your cunt

His hand didn't squeeze as tightly, didn't ripple across his length. It didn't coat his cock in sweet slick wetness. Didn't moan in pleasure as he rutted into it. He watched as you pulled out the pen, tip wet with your saliva as you studied the paper beneath you. You tapped the pen against your lips, teasing it between your teeth. Grimmjow groaned, hips jerkily thrusting into his hand, his precum leaking profusely, slicking up the glide of his hand, dampening the inside of his pants.

His breath came out in short pants, eyes narrowing as he watched you intently. The angle and the restrictions of his clothing were uncomfortable, not allowing him the proper movement to adequately stroke his full length. He watched your small hand resume marking the paper, imagining how it would look wrapped around his cock, how small it would look in comparison to his own. He imagined dragging his cock over you lips, painting them with his thick seed. How you would suck on the tip, lick up the length.

He moaned, deep and guttural, hips rutting into his palm. His head was swimming, protests to stop quieting at the dominating commands to take her. There you were, laid out, waiting, willing. His mate, his to use, his to fuck. You grabbed the paper, placing it on a table next to your bed with the pen. You pushed off the bed with your hands, back arching, ass pushed into the air invitingly as you stretched out your arms in front of you. His hand moved furiously over his cock, chasing the explosion that would clear his mind.

You were in the perfect submissive position, like you knew you were being watched. Putting on a show for your king, presenting yourself for his taking. His hand roughly pushed against the clothing covering his engorged cock, trying in vein to make more room for his rapid hand motions. You sat back on your legs, glancing out the window. He held his breath, suddenly nervous you would spot him hidden in the tree. His hand slowed down on his cock, trying to minimise any movement that might catch your eye.

He watched as you crawled closer to the window, staring out into the darkening street before pulling closed the cloth that blocked his view to your room. Grimmjow cursed quietly, no longer having you in his sights. His hand slowed on his length, coming to a complete stop in frustration. He pulled his hand free, disgusted with his actions, touching himself, hidden away like a desperate pup. Grimmjow roughly punched the thick trunk of the tree, bark splitting open the thin skin of his knuckles as it splintered beneath his power.

With new found determination, he jumped from the tree, into the garden beyond the wall. As soon as his feet hit the ground he ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction, away from you and your magic. Running with an erection was uncomfortable, he roughly palmed the ridged length, commanding it to go down. He stuck to the shadows, using his agility to stay undetected.

Grimmjow needed help. As much as it pained him to admit it, he didn't know how else to break the spell you had put him under. Now that he knew where you lived, he didn't trust his instincts not not cloud over his rational thought and kick down your damn door and take you. He needed someone to tell him how to get back control of his own mind. The only person he could think he could demand fix this problem, unfortunately, was also someone Grimmjow wanted to avoid at all costs. Annoying bastard would drive him insane.

——————————————————

You rolled your head back and forth, groaning at the satisfying cracks your neck gave. After returning home you had fallen into your couch, falling into a much needed nap. After waking, showering and having a delicious home cooked meal, you started working on the written report ready for Captain Kuchiki the following morning. You had been sitting at your table for too long, stiffness creeping up your spine. You reread over what you had already written, deciding it was up to your captains standards. You carefully gathered up the paper and pen, deciding to finish writing your conclusions in the comfort of your own bed

You resisted the desire run and leap on your bed, fall into the warm softness. Laying on your stomach you absentmindedly kick your legs up into the air, steadily swaying them back and forth as you began jotting down your explanations. You had written about finding the hollow you were sent to cleanse. The battle plan you had drawn up and how Grimmjow completely disregarded your ideas, running head first into, what you could only describe as, a violent slaughtering.

You wrote about Grimmjows skills, his shortcomings. What you felt he could work on and what you thought was a lost cause. You wrote your recommendations for a scouting team, highlighting his enhanced senses, and how you witnessed them being used in the field. You reread what you had written, rolling the pen across your lips, sucking on the tip. It was a habit you had from way back in your academy days, it helped clear your mind enough to focus solely on your task.

You wrote about Grimmjows lack of knowledge to human life. His struggle with reading and chopsticks, adding a few others you thought should be investigated. Concluding your report with what you had verbalised with the head captain. You believed Grimmjow could be a great ally, if only the time was given to help acclimate him into this unknown way of life. You attempted to think of an example of Grimmjows ability to pick up on things quickly, when your mind drifted into a less professional setting.

Grimmjow quickly picked up on your non-verbal cues, adjusting his treatment of you accordingly to your reactions. He learned quickly the best places to touch you to draw out sinful moans. Adjusted his pace at the minute gestures you gave, bringing you to the most powerful orgasm you've ever had. Now how could you write about that while sounding professional? You tried to shake the thoughts, turning back to your report to make sure it was all correct

Everything seemed adequate as you chewed on the tip of your pen, looking over carefully for any mistakes or anything you could add. You had to force yourself to stop, before you spent the whole night adding and changing little details trying to make it perfect. You put everything on your bedside table before stretching out your stiff back. You stretched your arms over your head, kneeling up on your knees to elongate your spine and hear it pop multiple times.

Cracking your spine, all your joints really, was a habit that drove Renji crazy. He hated the noise, it made his skin crawl. So as any friend would, you did it as often as possible in his company. You huffed out an amused chuckle, sitting yourself back on your folded legs. You looked through your window, noticing how dark it was getting.

Grimmjow floated through your mind again. You couldn't help but wonder what he was doing. He didn't seem the time to go to the bar, socialise with the shinigami, did he even have friends? No, he was probably out picking fights like an idiot. Hopefully he had steered clear of the two captains from earlier, that particular fight wouldn't be pretty, and it wouldn't help him securing a place in the goeti.

You forced the thoughts away, closing your curtains to get ready to turn in. It didn't take you long to end up in darkness, sinking into your mattress with a long awaited sigh. You had missed being home, being in your bed. You tried to fall asleep, clearing your mind and relaxing into your mattress. Grimmjows cocky grin flashed behind your closed eyes, heart skipping a beat as you pushed the image away. You rolled to your back, screwing your eyes closed tight, willing sleep to take you.

Heat started to flush through your body, the first tingle of arousal made you squeeze your thighs together under the quilt. Your eyes snapped open, staring at your ceiling cast in darkness. Why was that brute still in your thoughts, it was a one time thing. A two time thing. It wasn't going to happen again, ever. Time to forget about it. There were plenty of single men around here, you were not short of options should you get an inch you needed help scratching.

You didn't notice your hand caressing over your body until it reached your breast. Your fingers circled your pebbling nipple under your gown, pinching gently. You moaned at the pressure, bringing up your other hand to give the same attention to your neglected breast. You tried to conjure up an image to help you raise your libido, images of bulging muscles and a chiselled jaw. You imagined strong hands replacing your own, following the curves of your body down to your core.

Your fingers brushed against your clothed pussy, remembering a heavy weight looming over you, pushing you into the mattress as they tease your opening. When you brush a finger over your hidden clit, hips rolling up to meet the sensation, Grimmjows face appeared looming over you, grinning down at you. Nope. You pulled your hands away from you, punching the mattress besides you in frustration. You were not going to lay here and touch yourself while thinking of that man,

You definitely turned to your side, grabbing your spare pillow to hug against your chest. You concentrated on emptying your mind, willing sleep to pull you under it's merciful hold. You fell asleep pushing away increasingly intrusive thoughts of Grimmjow as they infiltrated your mind, tossing and turning at the memories of Grimmjow growling into your ear. You dreamt of his hands on your body, the guttural way he'd groan in your ear. Reliving all the pleasure you had received in those two days that you would refuse to think about again.

#bleach fanfiction #bleach smut #bleach #grimmjow x you #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #accidental mate

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dearmrshudson · 1 month

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The post of saddest(?) supernatural moment gave me the idea to maka a list of my own... You know, an honest list which will not push any agenda or exclude one of the main character completely to forcefully feed to a romantic pair which does not even exist.

so here it goes-

10. Dean's reaction after Sam's death in 13x21 :

This one is so nominal and insignificant to be in this list and not one of top moments for a lot, but this scene ripped my heart open when I saw it for the first time. It manages to show us how Dean's whole world will literally fall apart and make him an empty vessel if Sam is gone and he can do nothing about it - and Jensen manages to portray it with just a walk, two blank eyes and then one drop of tear. Kudos.

9. Church Scene in 'Sacrifice' (8x23):

Anyone who has not cried in this scene? Perfeftly shows the core of the show, the deep love between two brothers- despite all the reasons, all the idiological differences, all the mature discussion and all- Sam is the baby brother of Dean; at the end he needs Dean to be there as a big bro, to tell him to let it go, to clutch him in his chest. Ultimately they will always choose each other and nothing else will come between them.

8. Dean's death in 9x23:

One of the saddest death of Dean, and perhaps it comes to this list because of the build-up and drama follows this. Both had their own reasons for the tension they had this whole season, but when the tragedy comes it hits so hard that all those logics fell apart. It scares to peep in Sam's headspace at this time of dean's dying- imagine you discarding the person you love the most as you are reasonably angry with him, and in a few days he is dying in your arms when you have hardly talked out your differences.

7. Why don’t you believe in us too (14x12) :

Probably should come much later in this list, but this scene stood out in my eyes because it was such a fresh air in the terrible plotless mimicry that SPN had become in later seasons. The scene after ages which sums up Sam and Dean, the codependent brothers whom we had forgotten. Such a long time after we see Sam the little brother, witness the emotional turmoil he was going through silently and how it exploded. The only scene which makes season 14 worth remembering. Also Jared just nailed this scene!

6.) Dead or Alive (3x16):

This scene breaks my heart in pieces. Dean bravely going for the last fight before the horrible death he will be facing. And he trying to cheer up baby bro, he wants the last memory with his brother to be in this car- singing along together... How his face slowly glooms at the end and his eyes full of fear... Early seasons really were gems!

5. Sam in Mystery spot (3x11) :

Undoubtedly one of the best SPN episode with perfect blend of mystery, fun, laughter, tragedy and emotion... The funny vibe of the episode ends in a moment when we see Sam is not waking up from the nightmare loop. Then we see a robot- a scary robot who only wants to get his brother back at any cost. This episode is yet another example of how Sam loves Dean just as fiercely as Dean does, and he is not any less codependent.

4. Barn scene and alone Sam (15x20) :

God! What can I say about this!

Just want to add, Sam wandering alone in the bunker after creamating Dean hurts me equally.

3. John's death (2x01):

Cannot forget this one. This episode happens to be another favourite of mine, and the way John sacrifices himself for his son proves that a father can go to any extent for his children. The farewell scene of John - where he asks for forgiveness and goodbye to dean without him understanding brings tears to my eyes. Such a beautiful acting by JDM and so realistic portrayal of a flawed, helpless and loving father.

2. End of Season 5 (5x22)

The ground was set, the battle was about to begin, the ultimate faceoff between Lucifer and Michael was going to start- then what happens? A stubborn idiot boy with a muscle car and hellbent attitude comes in between- knowing that he cannot survive this- just because one of these celestial entities have captured his brother as a vessel and he won’t leave his brother alone. Till his last drop of blood he keeps on trying- trying to reach his brother who is trapped under something much bigger- keeps on telling that It's okay, he is not alone, his big brother is here. And guess what, he succeed. His brother broke free the bind of one of the strongest entity of universe and fought. The climax scene gives me goosebump always followed by a bunch of grief and saddness the ending carries. Had season 5 been the last season of SPN, and this be the exact way the series ended, I would absolutely have no regret!

1. Sammy's first Death (2x21):

No matter how many sad scenes are perfectly executed in SPN, nothing can exceed the emotion of this one. Jensen will also not be able to exceed the level of performance be set in this particular scene. Period.

So this is it... I must have excluded many. And turns out my list is full of Sam and Dean only and I am also not unbiased 🤣🤣 Well, there are sad scenes that do not involve only the brothers and I still like them, but not my top 10. Maybe have to make list of top 11 to 20 in order to include them. 😁

Please share your favourite saddest top 10 as well.

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam and dean #john winchester #spn #jensen ackles #j2 #anti destiel #top 10 list #jared padalecki #best episode

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cosmicanemoia · 1 month

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Strange Encounter

Amelia Shepherd x Reader

Love Me Till You Leave Me part 1

Amelia stands up from her seat while staring at her phone and said that she's going to the bathroom. Her eyes fixated on her phone, she's reading meredith's research who claimed that they should forget everything they know about alzheimers. She had missed Meredith presenting an award for Dr. Bailey, who is on complete shock, given the fact that she wasn't even nominated.

Her eyes didn't bother to look up to see where she was, and someone who seemed to be in a rush bumped into her. Amelia almost dropped her phone, and anyone could tell that she was already pissed, but the person she bumped into catched her phone before it hit the floor. That someone said sorry and gave Amelia back her phone, and rushed out into the hallway, it looked almost like she was running. Amelia only get a glimpse of her face, so her eyes followed the girl's figure and look as she run down the hallway who didn't bother to look back to see if she was okay, her brows furrowed and she shake her head from left to right and went on to whatever it is she's supposed to do that she seems to have forgotten because of that strange encounter. She walked forward. Then she stopped on her track and turned around, and went back to the awarding ceremony instead.

************Later that night************

Amelia was lying on her bed in her hotel room, staring at the ceiling, and couldn't seem to fall asleep. She took her phone to see if there were any messages or voice mails, but there was none. She suddenly remembered that her phone almost dropped on the floor, but the girl she bumped with had fast reflexes and catched it. She try to remember what the girl look like and all she could remember was that the girl was wearing a low neckline green dress with long sleeves, and golden seams that compliment her body, and has a H/C hair tied up in a messy bun, some of it falling into her face, she also has a faint scent that she can't quite figure out what, but it piqued her. She kept replaying those moments in her head to try and remember what the girl looked like, but she didn't, or more likely, she just couldn't. She didn't notice what time it was and didn't bother to check, so she tried to empty her mind and went to sleep. By the time she's asleep; the sun is almost rising.

A few hours later, and she's still asleep, thinking about that girl all night makes her fall into a deep slumber. Even when her phone kept ringing in the morning, she's still fast asleep. It is past noon when a rapid knocking at her door and a repetition of her name being called out, wake her up. She sat up in her bed and stretched a little, and walked to open the door. When she opened it, it was maggie and meredith. She looked at the two women, bewildered, and ask "what the hell? It's so early in the morning, and you are so loud." Maggie let out a sigh, and Meredith, with a straight face, let's out a little smile.

"Thank God you're okay, I kept calling and texting you earlier, but you weren't answering. So I called Meredith, and here we are." Maggie said

"See, she's okay. She's just probably up all night with someone." Meredith stated as she raised her eyebrows at Amelia while also smirking.

"Maggie had a nightmare about you being abducted. She got very worried when you didn't answer her phone." Meredith said and turned to look at Maggie, who added "also it is not early in the morning. It is already twelve thirty in the afternoon. Who is it? Are they still there?"

"It's already past noon? I thought it's still early. Who is what? I don't know what you guys are talking about, but I wasn't up all night with someone, and nobody's here besides me." Amelia opened the door, fully signalling her sisters to come in. Maggie and Meredith checked the room, and they finally believed that nobody else was there.

They all sat beside the bed with Amelia in the middle.

Maggie: Did someone keep you up all night? It's very late, and if we didn't come knocking at your door, you probably would still be asleep by now.

Meredith: Of course, someone kept her up.

Amelia: I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat.

Amelia stands up and changed her clothes while her sisters are now sitting side by side with a wide grin on their faces.

***********At the restaurant***********

Maggie: Winston and I slept together yesterday.

Amelia almost choke on her food, but Meredith just looked at her, waiting for an elaboration.

Maggie: It just sort of happens (She widened her eyes)

Amelia: Those kinds of things don't just sort of happen (She said with an annoying smirk)

Meredith: I'm with Amelia on this one. What does this mean? Are you guys back together or what?

Maggie: No, we're not back together. I don't know. Things are way too complicated.

"I bumped into someone last night." Amelia blurted out. Maggie and Meredith looked at each other before they turned to look at Amelia. Amelia lifts her head up to see her sisters reaction and saw confusion in both their faces.

Meredith: Who is it?

Maggie: Is it someone we know?

Amelia: No, just some random person. We bumped, and I almost dropped my phone, but the woman caught it. She hands me my phone said sorry and walked away. I didn't even see her face and get her name. I forgot what I was doing in that hallway, so I just came back to the ceremony.

Maggie looks down on her food, and a smile begins to form in her mouth. Meredith looked at Amelia suspiciously and said, "so that's what kept you up all night." With a grin plastered on her face.

"What? Of course not. No, nope." Amelia denied in a high-pitched voice. Her sisters chuckles at her. "Okay, fine! But in my defense, it was a strange encounter, " she added. Maggie said, "It was not that strange." Meredith nods way too many times it seems almost like she's bopping her head. "Whatever," Amelia replies with an eye roll on the side.

#amelia shepherd x you #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd x femreader #x reader #amelia shepherd #grey's anatomy #sapphic #wlw #lesbian #meredith grey #maggie pierce #love me till you leave me part 1

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cha-melodius · 4 months

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Aaaaaaah congrats on 100 fics! I’m so excited that you’re doing this! Can I request Lokius in a western/cowboy setting?

(You were a prophet when you sent this back in August, Old West Lokius is quite the in vogue thing now lol. I hope you enjoy!)

Ain't No Place for a Better Man

(3k, M; read it below or on AO3)

They’ve had easier jobs, that’s for damned sure.

Protecting an entire train of stagecoaches was always going to be a strain on his crew, especially through this territory. They’re good, but they’re not that good. Mobius should have insisted that the client cough up the money to bring on another couple of folks, but they’d been reluctant and Mobius hadn’t wanted to risk the job going to someone else. And really, against most bandits, they’d probably have been fine.

They weren’t up against most bandits, though.

Mobius flips a blood-streaked silver dollar at the barkeep and collects a bottle of whiskey and four glasses in return without a single word exchanged. His crew is damn-near legendary in these parts; people vacate ‘their’ table when they enter the saloon, tip their hats when they pass on the road, and generally treat them with the kind of wary respect they’ve worked hard to cultivate. Mobius’ crew may be nominally ‘good’ guys, but a hard world makes hard people, especially ones who are hired to protect what passes for civilization out west.

Verity grunts in appreciation when he deposits the glasses on the table and sloshes a generous helping of whiskey in each one. Wincing a little as he leans forward, Mobius pushes two across to the others then settles back into the rickety chair. He tosses his hat on the table and kicks his feet up next to it, crossing them at the ankles and ignoring the dirty looks from the barkeep. The burn of cheap whiskey flows down his throat and spreads out in his chest, dulling the ache of what’s probably a bruised rib.

“How do you think he found out they were moving the gold?” Casey asks, fidgeting with his glass. Twitchy guy, but surprisingly good with a rifle. He’d been riding with the trailing coach on the job and had caught the butt end of a pistol to the face when they’d been boarded, which is now darkening to a mottled purple across his cheekbone. Hadn’t gotten shot, though, which was a small blessing.

“How does he always? He’s got his ways,” Mobius returns with a shrug. “Weren’t one of us.”

“Obviously,” Verity snorts. “Slippery bastard has his fingers in plenty of pies, and people are easily bought. What I don’t get is how no one has managed to shoot him off his horse yet.”

Mobius snorts. “You’re the marksman, Ver. You tell me.”

“Swear he’s goddamn magic. One of them spirits. No one should be able to dodge all those bullets.”

“I assure you, he’s just a man.”

“And how exactly do you know, Mobius?” Verity counters, a too-shrewd look on her face.

Mobius blinks at her slowly and takes another sip of his drink. “Didya forget how I got this?” he asks, tugging aside the collar of his shirt to reveal an ugly scar twisting just under his collarbone. “He was flesh and blood when he drove that dagger into me.”

She looks chastened, but not completely convinced. “Could be he takes human form sometimes,” she mutters into her drink.

“I heard of spirits like that,” Casey puts in. “One of the girls at the Mariposa was tellin’ me about this guy who comes in—”

“Enough,” Mobius says. His voice isn’t particularly loud or sharp, but everyone falls silent nonetheless. “You tell these stories, you let him get in your head. He ain’t a spirit, or a witch, or whatever else has been said about ‘im. Bleeds as red as the rest of us. Now,” he says, swinging his legs off the table and throwing back the rest of his whiskey, “I’m beat. And I’m takin’ this with me.” He grabs the bottle of whiskey off the table, ignoring their protests, and tugs his hat back on before he turns and walks away.

His steps are onerous as he climbs the stairs leading to the rooms over the saloon, heavy with a deep weariness he can’t seem to shake off these days. He’s getting too old for this shit, that’s for certain, but there’s something else weighing him down that he’d rather forget about in the bottom of this whiskey bottle tonight. He takes another swig as he kicks open the door to his usual room, only to find it already occupied.

The black-clad figure is little more than a lump, sitting hunched over in a chair next to the a small table with his hat pulled down low so that the broad brim of it hides his face from view. He doesn’t react when Mobius enters—unconscious or dead or just uninterested in the newcomer is difficult to say. Mobius’ hand is on his pistol before he knows he’s moving, even as something familiar twinges in his mind at the shape of the man’s shoulders.

“Think you’re in the wrong room, buddy,” he says evenly. “This one’s spoken for.”

The man looks up, a curtain of dark hair falling back from his face, and his lips twist into a wry smile. “I’m exactly where I intend to be, in fact.”

“Shit,” Mobius swears, his hand falling away from his gun as he takes another long swig from the bottle. Kicking the door shut behind him, he pulls his hat off and tosses it onto one of the bed posts. “You know they’re all downstairs, right? This is the last goddamn place you should be.”

“Didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“What are you doing here, Loki?” Mobius sighs.

“I can’t want to see you?” Loki asks, trying for flippant and falling short by a mile.

As Mobius draws closer, he can see that Loki’s even paler than usual—which is really saying something—and he’s still hunched over, clutching his shoulder. Mobius reaches out and gently takes hold of Loki’s slender wrist, tugging his hand away and sucking in a breath when it comes away covered in red.

“You took a bullet today.”

“Astute observation,” Loki returns dryly. “I fear that Verity of yours is going to shoot me dead one day.”

Mobius squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, forcing his hand not to tremble. “She’d like that.”

“And you, Mobius?”

“Don’t you dare ask me that, Loki.”

Loki bows his head again, and Mobius turns away before he accidentally says something powerfully stupid. He steps out into the hallway and flags down a maid for a basin, a rag, and some clean water—well, clean as it gets, anyway—then returns to dig through the saddlebag slung over the foot rail of the bed for the sewing kit within, the one that’s mended more flesh than fabric. He leaves it on the table next to Loki along with the whiskey and goes to fetch the basin and water at the sound of a light knock on the door. The legs of the other chair grate loudly against the rough wooden floor as he pulls it around in front of Loki and settles into it, close enough that their knees are knocking together where they’re interleaved.

The silence stretches out between them, somehow heavy with unspoken words and comfortable all at once, even as Loki flinches when Mobius pushes his jacket off his shoulders, even as Mobius’ fingers find a familiar path in the buttons of his shirt, even as Mobius takes another swig of the whiskey before passing it to Loki. A subtle shine to the fabric of his black shirt is the only visible trace of blood on it, but when Mobius carefully peels it away from the wound, the bright red staining his pale skin tells another story. The disturbance brings a fresh surge of blood oozing to the surface, and Mobius pretends that he doesn’t notice Loki trembling under his hands.

He works with movements far gentler than most people would think him capable of, and the water in the basin steadily darkens as he cleans around the wound. Even though Mobius’ attention is focused on his work, he can tell Loki is watching him raptly the entire time, his eyes fixed on Mobius’ face, until Mobius pulls out the long forceps he keeps in the kit just for this purpose. Only then does his trepidation show on his face, the knowledge of what’s coming only too familiar at this point. Mobius shoves the whiskey bottle at him again, and Loki dutifully drinks before handing it back. The muscle of his jaw jumps when Mobius pours a glug of the alcohol over the wound, but his stoicism is put to the test under the assault of the forceps. Loki inhales sharply and turns his face to the ceiling when Mobius goes digging for the bullet, as if that might hide the tears welling in his eyes.

Fortunately, the bullet comes out easily along with the bit of shirt that it pulled in with it. The unassuming hunk of lead clinks dully when Mobius drops it into the basin, the sound of it a bleak reminder of how close he’d come to losing Loki entirely. Another few inches…

Mobius shoves the thought out of his head. He can’t let his mind travel down those roads, not when he needs his hands steady to finish this hellish task. One thing at a time, one stitch at a time, until the hole in Loki’s shoulder is finally closed and Mobius lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He rinses his own hands, then dampens the rag again and carefully takes Loki’s, gently wiping the now-dried blood from his skin as best as he can manage.

Loki’s head is bowed when he finishes, and Mobius reaches out with both hands to cup the sides of his face. His expression is impassive, but dried tears streak his cheeks, leaving pale tracks through the dirt and grime, and Mobius can’t help but rub his thumb through them in an ineffectual attempt at wiping them away.

“You’re all right, sweetheart,” he says, barely more than a murmur. He lets one corner of his mouth tug upward. “Gonna take more than that to take out the legendary Loki Odinson.”

Something fractures in Loki’s expression. “Mobius—”

“Shhh,” Mobius hushes, pressing a thumb to his lips.

Then he pulls his thumb away, leans closer, and presses their lips together instead.

It’s chaste at first, the barest brush of contact, but a moment later Loki is gasping into it, almost a sob, and his hands come up to curl desperately in Mobius’ shirt. He deepens the kiss hungrily, his teeth tugging at Mobius’ lips and tongue licking into his mouth, until the angle becomes untenable and he’s climbing into Mobius’ lap instead.

“Loki, you can’t—” Mobius protests, but can’t is not a concept that Loki is well-versed in, and he’s swallowing down the rest before Mobius can put voice to it.

He kisses Mobius like a drowning man in the desert slaking his thirst with Mobius’ lips, sinking his good hand into grey locks to pull them ever closer together. Mobius’ hands find the narrow dip of his waist without really meaning to, only that he could never resist that spot, the way Loki’s wiry muscles flex under his grip, the soft smoothness of his skin under hard calloused palms. His own shirt long discarded, Loki sets to work on Mobius’ instead, and despite the way his cock is definitely taking an interest, Mobius stills Loki’s hands with one of his own.

“I just sewed you up,” he scolds, a frown settling into his features.

Loki has the audacity to look annoyed. “And now I’m fine, can we move along—”

“You gotta take care of yourself.”

“Mm, not in my nature,” Loki says bluntly, leaning for another kiss before Mobius can reply. “That’s why I’m here,” he murmurs against Mobius’ lips, “because I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Loki,” Mobius exhales on a shuddery breath, squeezing his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to choke him.

A moment later, Loki’s forehead contacts his, and he brushes their noses together. “Please, Mobius,” he whispers into the narrow space between them. “I could have died today—”

“I know,” Mobius grinds out.

“—so I need you to fuck me until both you and I forget about it.”

Mobius can’t deny it’s an appealing prospect. “But your shoulder—”

“You’ll be careful,” Loki cuts him off. His lips twist wryly. “You’re always careful with me, even when you shouldn’t be.”

For two people who are constantly at odds, Mobius has always been terrible at saying no to him. He doesn’t manage it now, either. “Alright,” he surrenders, his hands already sliding over Loki’s back, lingering in the dip of his spine. “Alright.”

It’s not easy, between Loki’s shoulder and Mobius’ own injuries, but Mobius takes his time. He presses endless kisses to Loki’s skin, perfect in its imperfection, marred by countless scars inflicted over the years. Some by Mobius’ own hand; more by his crew, including the starburst that will form at his shoulder, no matter how neatly Mobius stitches it closed. If Mobius had his way, he’d never gain another one.

In this, Mobius knows he’s destined to be disappointed. Instead, he focuses making sure the pleasure overwhelms the pain, in treasuring every moment like it might be the last. He works Loki open with endless care—well, Loki wasn’t wrong—sinks into the impossible heat of him, rolls their bodies together as Loki urges him on, chasing the moments where they are just this. Not opponents, not adversaries, but two men seeking comfort in each other’s arms, finding what solace they can in a hard world.

In the aftermath, Loki tucks himself against Mobius’ side, pillowing his head on his shoulder, leaving no trace of space between their bodies. He’s unusually quiet, and Mobius doesn’t know if it’s just the trials of the day or something else weighing on him.

Loki’s hand moves idly over his chest, eventually finding the very scar under the collarbone Mobius had showed off earlier that evening. “Do you remember this day?” he asks, trailing a finger over the gnarled flesh.

“Are you asking if I remember the day you stabbed me in the chest?” Mobius returns incredulously.

Loki shrugs. “You’ve had closer calls.”

“Not from someone I love.”

Loki’s hand stills, not unexpectedly. It’s not the first time Mobius has said it, but he doesn’t deploy it often. It tends to make Loki… skittish.

“You didn’t know me back then,” Loki says eventually as he spreads his palm out over Mobius’ heart.

“I know you coulda killed me, but you didn’t.”

“I fear you’ve always made me soft, Mobius,” Loki murmurs, like a confession pressed against his skin.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is in this life.”

“Don’t have to be,” Mobius says. “Not all the time, anyway.”

That, apparently, was a step too far. Or maybe this was always going to be the end of their limited time tonight. Loki doesn’t reply for a long moment, letting the statement hang in the air, then his hand curls into a loose fist.

“I should go before anyone finds out I’m here,” he says. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and grips the edge of the mattress tightly. “I’ve already lingered too long.”

“You don’t have to run,” Mobius tries.

Loki laughs, without a single goddamn trace of humor in it, as he stands and grabs his trousers off the floor, tugging them on and doing up the buttons. “It’s not that simple.”

“It could be,” Mobius insists. He sits up, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I have contacts. People in the marshal’s office, they could get you a deal—”

“And what makes you think I want a deal?” Loki snaps, though a second later his shoulders sag. “I appreciate that you’re willing to stick your neck out for me. I do. But just because you’re on the side of law and order doesn’t mean you’re in the right.” He bends down snag his shirt off the floor, wincing as he tugs the bloodstained garment on. “How do you think your employer got all that gold, hm? It certainly wasn’t by asking nicely.”

This is not the first time they’ve had a similar argument.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. The law says it’s his,” Mobius answers with a shrug. “You expect me to believe you’re stealin’ out of some kind of highfalutin moral righteousness?”

Loki flashes him a wicked smile as his long fingers fasten his shirt. “Of course not. I’m stealing it because I want it. Which I’m fairly certain is also true of the man who’s paying you.” Once he’s finished with the buttons, he crosses back over to the bed and stands between Mobius’ legs, lifting a hand to the corner of Mobius’ jaw as he stares down at him. “You and I, we’re not all that different, in the end.”

Mobius slides his hands under the loose tails of his shirt until his palms find warm skin again. “In that case, if I asked you, again, to come join me…”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Loki murmurs, bending down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “I can’t. Not— not yet.”

“I’m never gonna stop asking, you know,” Mobius tells him.

A melancholy smile tips onto Loki’s lips. “You’d break my heart if you did.”

That, right there, is why Mobius will never be strong enough to end this. It’s the hope that kills you, so they say.

“When will I see you again?” he asks instead.

“When’s your next job?” Loki jokes. Or not. It might not be a joke.

“Not funny,” Mobius huffs.

“I’ll find you,” Loki tells him, then quickly adds, “not during a job, all right? I’ll always find you.”

It shouldn’t be so comforting. Nothing is certain in this life—especially not for men like them—and yet this, he’s come to rely on. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

“All right,” Loki promises. “just for you.”

#lokius #loki x mobius #loki laufeyson #mobius m. mobius #cowboy loki #cowboy mobius #western au #lokius fanfic #lokius fic #my fic #chamel's fandom fest

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a-story-teller · 6 months

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Seriously one of the most confounding things in the world is pop-Christian moralizing.

"Is ASMR ok for Christians?? 🤨🤔😧" I'm not sure in what world it would be sinful to listen to soothing brushing, ocean sounds, and tapping, yet someone felt the need to ask the question, and someone else felt the need to make a YouTube video answering it. (I didn't watch it, so I don't know the verdict, but somehow you're trusting the verdict to a rando on YouTube and not Discernment from God?)

"Christian facials" because having a hot towel on your face and putting on serum is in any way aligned with a religion or lack thereof, and therefore needs to/even Can be made Christian?

"Christian-friendly sex positions" and the only difference is it's stick figures instead of realistic drawings, and instead of male/female or penetrator/receiver, it's husband/wife. Because you know those goofy health-book illustrations were distracting you from the righteous goal at hand: eating your girl out. But you can't call her your girl, you have to make it clear to everyone seeing you have sex (which... is just the 2 of you, right?) that you're having Good and Not Sinful sex, because you, a Husband, are Married to your Wife. Side note: the stick figures actively make it harder to figure out the intricacies of any of the positions and therefore are objectively shittier at doing what they're made to do.

Christian soap, christian mints, christian calendars, christian music, christian curtains, christian fiction, christian restaurants, christian news, christian shops. There are things in the world that are OK being secular. The fact that your soap does not have an icthus sign etched in that washes away in 3 days anyway does not make you a bad person, or even a bad christian. Your home does not need something Christian™️ in every room for people (or yourself!) not to forget you're christian... I assume?

The king who must say he is king, etcetera. This kind of mindset is so boggling to me, and reeks of nominative faith and deeeeep insecurity. Retail therapy but instead of buying temporary happiness you're buying temporary grace. Being so beholden to the dogma of organized religion that you go to any person feigning authority on the subject rather than using your own brain to make a decision. The idea that things can only be okay to interact with if they're explicitly christian, as though interacting with it as a christian doesn't inherently put it through a christian lens; as though you can only get things trickled down to you from church authority figures with robust enough constitutions to judge what's ok for you because you don't have the ability to think critically; as though you should stay away from what's "sinful" rather than, LIKE JESUS, be able to go into it and be a good example; as though instead of learning to be capable of handling it, you should be as weak to sin as possible; as though you have to go through the world with kid gloves because touching something dirty would soil your soul (which, of course this implies, is sparkling - impossible, arrogant, and kind of denying God, lol [actually, not lol, I'm expanding on that. Denying God by refusing to admit your own sin. Denying God by refusing his grace because you won't admit your own sin. Denying God by acting like his power couldn't absolve something as simple as being exposed to sin, let alone if you did end up making a miatake. Denying God by keeping yourself in Good Christian spaces and not being there for people who need outside help. There's more but I digress]).

Also, the childish áffect of refusing to say things as they are because that would be bad, but referring to it in euphamism is fine - or, transversely, that using colloquialisms is bad, but medical speak is fine, depending on what breed of crackpot christian you're dealing with. "Hanky-panky" just say sex. "Adult drinks" just say wine, beer, liquor. "Flower" for the love of all that is holy just say vulva/vagina/virginity. "Breasts" is fine to describe your chest but "boobs" is not. You can say "buttocks" but not "butt". Discussing bathroom activities is decisively not cool but if utterly necessary you must say "urine" and "feces" because pee and poop are too pedestrian.

Like, entire side tangent, but the weirdly widespread christian-ism of not discussing things frankly or discussing them super detachedly, but both preferring to never discuss them at all, regarding anything "potentially sinful" or "not spiritually uplifting" (usually boiling down to "anything physical") is so whack to me. Do not discuss your period, even in female spaces, because it's tmi. Don't talk about your health issues if they're not Clean enough subjects, even as something to pray about (like breast/prostate cancer, shitting diseases). Don't ever talk about your sex life except to wiggle your eyebrows at your kids when they're old enough. Don't hug your male friends, daughter. Don't play with your little cousins, son. Sex is so so bad but everything is about it, actually. Sex is so so great which is why you should feel guilty about ever wanting it. All nudity is sexual. Dress so they know you're a woman but also that you're a lady. Fart jokes are not allowed. You must remember that all men are looking at you with lust at all times but you can't hold that against them. All things that get you sweaty or muddy are bad. Hair on women is unnatural but just dandy for men, except we can't talk about pubic hair so you're just going to have to figure out on your own if it's less sinful to not think about your vag enough to do anything to it or to ensure you're free of all sinful hair. Here's how to do makeup in a god-honoring way, because you couldn't know on your own, and you must both jump through this hoop to be acceptable to your men but not have enough fun and personal expression with it for it to become anything other than a chore. It is wrong to kill, which is why we support the troops. We are supposed to help the poor, which is why I drive past the beggars that are dirty and ragged and smelly. We are supposed to celebrate God with our bodies, which is why my most spiritually moved state equates to slightly raising my arms.

I can't close this post without including my oft-quoted favorite example of this weird-ass pop-Christian phenomenon translating to real-life people in real-time thoughts: my mom saying she had to take into account "which ice cream flavor is most glorifying to God" at a froyo shop. Either it's raspberry, or she chose sin that day.

#to be SLIGHTLY fair to my mom she was trying to give an example of ''having God as priority 1 all the time'' to middle school me #Who thought (correctly) that there are plenty of things which God has no direction relation to or care towards #What color you wear or what sandwich you eat having no impact on your relationship to God #And mom tried to illustrate that it's about the intention to be mindful of God 24/7 by using the most batshit method available #thus cementing my point and giving me the best example of the effects of this thing to date #christianity #christian #theology #in which I read a book with a really problematic fanbase #religion #So much of ''christian'' culture is alien to me... so much of it I hate with a deep fervor...#I will raise my kids to be okay with the fact that they are physical beings with bodies #I will raise them to make their decisions themselves based on their own interpretations and direction #And I will raise them to know that the world will not sully them without their consent - that to be good does not mean to be free of sin -#and that they take from the world what they bring to it and can face ''bad'' things without turning to stone

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nayialovecat · 9 months

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The Ink Demonth 2023 - Day 23. Contraband

Day 23. Contraband Crossover: Craig of the Creek, Disenchantment Apparently Workshop toys are a pretty bad currency at least for the time being, but wait until you have some more of them, Kit, and you can make the best trade in your life: "limited edition toys from haunted studio, only from me!"

Kit, as well as the Trading Tree itself, come from the cartoon "Craig of the Creek" (I drew Craig once), which is an extremely nice Cartoon Network production showing kids playing on the titular Creek. I love it for many things - firstly, it brings back sentimental memories from my own childhood, secondly, it is a wonderful cross-section of different types of kids and their behavior, thirdly - it shows small problems in a completely different light. Every parent should watch this series to understand things better. I especially love the episodes that alternately show what the kids see - and what is really happening (e.g. during the game "the floor is lava"). My objection is the same as against Bluey: that it is a bit unrealistic that all the kids always take part in the games and accept the sometimes problematic rules (e.g. when playing hide and seek or being trapped in a maze) - that no one will say "ok, I've had enough, I'm not playing with you anymore". But apart from that - a wonderfully presented world of imagination, actually a mini-community. This series was also "nominated" for the City entry for a while, but I decided that I wouldn't find anything else for the Contraband (plus wanted to draw Kit).

I really like the character of Kit. This little, enterprising girl is something of a higher instance of the creek - thanks to her, kids (for a small fee) can eat their favorite sweets or snacks without having to leave their playground and go to the store, she also sells toys and gadgets. I ship her with Craig - all the episodes of them working together confirm in my eyes what a wonderful couple they'll be when they become teenagers. I'm honestly counting on it, because of all the girls hanging around Craig, Kit is the one who best suits him in terms of character and common interests.

More observant people may also notice a guest from another cartoon, this time absolutely not for children - the demon Luci from "Disenchantment" - a series by the creators of Futurama aimed at adult viewers, a somewhat modern fairy tale, and partly a parody of many well-known stories. If someone is an adult and doesn't know it, I recommend it. A wonderful story with a very good ending to the whole plot. Luci, the personal demon of the main character, Princess Bean, is undoubtedly my favourite character. I love his physical two-dimensionality, to his absolutely non-one-dimensional character. I love his texts and the fact that in all his participation in Bean's adventures, he never forgets for a moment that he is a hellish being, and his "do it, do it" is always wonderful. In his original storyline, Luci was considered a "weird cat" by those around him, hence Kit's text (while he's actually just another of Bendy's "cousins" that the ink demon is wandering around with).

As for the technical side... it took a lot of time to colour, but was surprisingly fun. It was the first time in a long time that I shaded in such a strange way. Oh, it's worth noting that the colours of Bendy's clothes were entirely developed by my daughter, Ursa. Kudos to her! By the way, I wonder who Bendy stole these clothes from X"D

Finally, I will just mention that the Contraband theme was originally associated with "The Owl House" and Eda's stall, but I moved it to another place with a better idea. And that's why Craig landed here.

PS. I don't like Kopiko, but I'm not crazy about avoiding showing existing products in my drawings. But seriously, I didn't feel like changing the name, so here you have it, a covert advertisement for the hideous Kopiko coffee candies. You're welcome, Kopiko.

Bendy and the Ink Machine (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc. Craig of the Creek (c) Cartoon Network Disenchantment (c) Matt Groening Sammy and the Ink Machine (c) Nayia Lovecat

#The Ink Demonth #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Sammy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #SATIM #Craig of the Creek #Disenchantment #Bendy #Ink Bendy #Ink Demon #Kit #Kitherine #Luci #Lucille Lucifer Jr DCLXVI #Bendy plushie #Kopiko #the Trading Tree #The Ink Demonth 2023 #crossover

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mooodyblue · 1 year

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ahhhahaha im so excited to see ur requests are back open!!! id love to see something with austin after the oscars, maybe some fluff with th reader trying to make sure he doesnt feel too sad ❤️‍🩹

hehe thank youuu!! said i wasn't gonna write today but then i started thinking about austin and couldn't fight the urge. hope you enjoy!

wc: 686

masterlist

austin was absolutely terrified on the way to the oscars. not only was it the end of his elvis chapter but he could possibly be going home with one of the biggest awards of the night and in the industry. his leg bounced up and down in the seat next to you in the car. he was sandwiched in between both you and his publicist. you had never seen him so nervous, not even at the golden globes was he this nervous.

“look, think of it this way-after tonight, we can finally go on vacation and just spend real quality time together. it’s a win either way, right?” you spoke.

austin shook his head, “i can’t think about anything else. i-i don’t even think i have a speech ready, what if i forget someone? and god, i don’t wanna even think about all the carpet interviews.” he continued to nervously ramble on and on.

you pecked him on the lips and held his face in your hands, looking into his eyes. “austin. i love you, you’re gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“what if i don’t get it?” he asked quietly.

“then you don’t get it. you still have your entire career ahead of you, an award doesn’t define you as an actor.” you answered softly. “i’ll still be proud of you regardless.”

he nodded as he gave you a sad smile, looking out the window to the massive crowd at the carpet.

eight nominations, not a single win. you were thankful you were sat in the back where the camera couldn’t get any sort of shot with you in as your reaction to each loss could have definitely caused a stir on social media. after the show ended and the camera was cut, you made your way to find austin, immediately going to wrap your arms around him. he sighed against you and you pulled away. “are you okay?”

“need to go get ready for the party-”

“austin,” you grabbed him by the shoulders. “are you okay?”

he didn’t respond, instead taking your hand and heading out to go get changed.

it was just the two of you in the room, austin was behind you, helping you fix your dress. you glanced at him through the mirror, noting he still hadn’t said a word about the awards. “i’m proud of you.”

he stood up and zipped up your dress, stepping away from you and sighing. he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked around the room. “i just feel like all that hard work was for nothing. i tried to not let this upset me but it just…” he finally turned to look at you, letting out a heavy sigh. “this sucks, y/n. i was so confident, i just hope the presley’s aren’t disappointed in me, in us. y’know?”

“hey, don’t say that.” you walked over to him, austin wrapping his arms around you with sad eyes looking into yours. “you know they’re proud of all of you, more specifically you. especially elvis.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, grinning. “you also got a golden globe and a bafta and like…a million other awards.” you reminded. “you didn’t end this chapter completely empty-handed.”

“a million is a bit much-”

you shot him a glare, “that’s not the point.” you snapped. “i’m saying, this wasn’t just for nothing. you’re going to have more chances in the future, you’re just getting started. this movie did huge things for you and i will always, always be proud of you. you’re my little movie star, a winner in my heart.”

austin finally gave you a small smile, thinking about all the good memories and achievements he made throughout the past year. “i love you, i hope you know that.” he pressed his lips against your forehead and grinned. “you’re right though, i’m not ending it empty-handed. i got you.”

you smacked him playfully on the chest, letting out a laugh. “you are so corny it almost makes me sick.”

“but you love me for it.”

“unfortunately i do.” you sighed. “now, let’s go get drunk.”

#austin x reader #austin butler x reader

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ethereal-bumble-bee · 5 months

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Cot Sponlon Lore!!!

(Here’s some info on Cot Sponlon and his campaign for President of the United States! Feel free to suggest additions/ask questions, and don’t forget- Vote Cot Sponlon in 2024!)

Backstory:

I’m doomed, Spot lamented silently as he stared at the papers on the desk before him. They were written in fancy language that he barely understood, with official-looking stamps and signatures plastered over every sheet, and Spot felt as if they were trying to suck the soul out of his body.

It had all started as a joke. He’d been drunk with Race on a Saturday night, and the other boy had made some sort of joke- like a “hey, what if you ran for President of the United States” sort of joke- and Spot had taken it seriously. A more sober version of him (but still a version with horrible ideas) had gone through the process, somehow getting himself involved with New York’s state government and also somehow getting nominated to represent the Democratic Party in the race.

Cot Sponlon was the name he’d chosen. A stupid mixed-up version of his childhood nickname that somehow went unchecked by everyone he came into contact with (he didn’t know how), the name that newscasters either berated or praised on television, the name that he’d have to use for the rest of his life if he wanted to keep up this ruse. He had no clue how nobody had checked to see if Cot Sponlon was a U.S citizen, if he old enough to run for president, or even if he was a real person at all, and he fully blamed the carelessness of everyone else for the mix up. Apparently, it didn’t take much trickery to fool the old men in office, as he’d done it with ease.

Spot sorted through the endless stack of files on the desk, seeing his “name” in immaculately typed script on each one, trying to make sense of the duties he’d be taking over. This is a fucking fever dream, he thought to himself, holding back a cry of frustration as he caught the word deadline for the five hundredth time. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get himself out of this mess- it wasn’t as if you had to have some sort of permit to run for president, and somehow America had welcomed Cot Sponlon with open arms, most claiming that he was the best fit to lead the country. Make America Gay Again was the slogan he’d chosen- a take on some fat orange bastard’s battle cry that was somehow endearing to weirdos like himself everywhere.

No matter the fact that he had dropped out of college at age twenty, that most of his former schoolteachers were surprised he ever learned how to read, much less create a lie so elaborate that he could fool the entire world. It would only take a bit of common sense for it all to come crashing down, for him to be exposed as the clueless leader he was.

A banner hung above his small desk- one that read: Cot Sponlon, 2024. Staring up at the brightly printed letters, disbelieving of his own stupidity, Spot made up his mind to keep going with this, even if it was just to see how far he could fuck over the country before they realized he was a fake.

And, who knows, maybe I could make a difference, Spot thought to himself, suppressing a laugh as he continued to flip through the never-ending paperwork, the name he’d created destined to lead him far into the world of politics he’d never truly meant to sign up for.

Information About Our Candidate:

Name: Cot Sponlon

Age: Twenty-two

Campaign slogan: Make America Gay Again

Political Party: Democrat

College Degrees: None

Interviews and more to come soon! Feel free to ask questions to Mr. Sponlon through the ask box!

#newsies #spot conlon #cot sponlon for president 2024 #cot sponlon #this is purely satire and means no support for the MAGA assholes #Just thought I’d add that #Cot Sponlon for president #Cot Sponlon 2024 #Cot Sponlon lore

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fxckadoodledoomunson · 2 years

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Breaking The Cycle |1/2|

Summary: After getting rejected by Eddie, you decide not to fall into the vicious cycle anymore.

Warnings: swearing, Eddie being a dick.

It was always the same. Every time someone breaks up with you or reject your feelings, you spend days in bed or overeat until you throw up.

This time, it was Eddie Munson, one of your closest friends, who rejected you.

As you reached for a tub of ice cream, you replayed what happened earlier in your head...

It happened after the campaign. You and the other members had lost to Eddie. He told you that if you all lost, one of you had to confess your feelings to someone that you liked. The boys nominated you to confess your feelings for someone, unaware that you had a crush on the Dungeon Master himself.

After you all helped Eddie clean up, Gareth told you, “Well, you can’t back out. Who’s the poor guy you’re gonna confess to?”

You took a deep breath, as you went up at Eddie.

“Eddie?” Your voice cracked.

“You heard Gareth the Great, you can’t back out.”

“I need to tell you something. In private.”

“Well, whatever it is, you can say it in front of everyone.”

You looked around, feeling the pressure, before turning back to Eddie as you mumbled, “I like...you.”

“Huh?”

“I like you!” You quickly told him.

Everyone gaped, as Eddie asked, “What?”

You sighed, before repeating yourself, “I like you, Eddie. As in more than a friend.”

He gaped, before bursting out laughing, “Very funny! You almost got me.”

“I’m not joking, Eddie,” you told him, feeling embarrassed.

Eddie’s laughter died down as he gazed at you with a surprised expression on his face. “Oh.”

He looked around the room, as he cleared his throat, before pulling you to one side, away from the others. He then quietly told you, “Listen sweetheart, I’m flattered. Don’t get me wrong, but I don’t like you in that way. Besides...I like someone else.”

“Who?”

Eddie stood silently before admitting, “Samantha.”

“Samantha? Chrissy Cunningham’s best friend? The one who’s dating that Chance guy?”

Eddie bit his lip, as he silently nodded.

You scoffed, before telling him, “So you would rather pine over a cheerleader who’s already taken than make a go of things with someone who actually wants to be with you?”

“Look-“

You backed away, as you told him whilst shaking your head, “You know what? Let’s just forget I ever said anything.”

You stormed out of the auditorium, as the others called out to you while Eddie silently watched you leave...

You sobbed, as you opened the tub of ice cream. You got out a spoon and were about to scoop a bit of ice cream when you realised something.

Every time you broke up with someone or got rejected, you fell into a vicious cycle. Spend days in bed, binge until you were sick.

But then suddenly, something in the back of your mind told you not to fall into that cycle again.

You shook your head, as you put the ice cream back in the freezer, as you said to yourself while you wiped your tears away, “No, not this time.”

You then leaned over the counter, sighing, when you noticed a pamphlet for a new gym that opened recently.

You grabbed it and took a look at it, finally found something that might help break your vicious cycle.

Over the weekend, you decided to do a couple of trials of bootcamp sessions, which you strangely enough enjoyed.

By Monday however, you were aching all over. As you walked in agony through the hallway, you heard one of the jocks, Andy say, “The freak looks like she had shit herself.”

As all the jocks, except Lucas and Patrick, laughed, you flipped them off.

You continued to walk when everyone from Hellfire, apart from Eddie who was nowhere to be seen, approached you.

They kept asking if you were okay, as well as apologising to you for nominating you to confess.

“If we knew that you liked Eddie,” Gareth began to speak. “We wouldn’t have-“

“Look! Can you all just bloody drop it?!” You yelled, causing everyone to stare at you.

You winced as you rushed to your class.

When you got to the classroom, you noticed Eddie sitting down, chatting and laughing with Chrissy.

As soon as he saw you, you quickly sat to your seat without acknowledging him.

He sadly gazed at you for a moment before he turned his attention back to Chrissy, while you took out the gym pamphlet from your bag, reading through the timetable as you decided on which classes you wanted to do.

Later on at lunchtime, you had decided to sit with Nancy and Robin, not wanting to talk any of the boys.

“Are you okay?” Robin asked you. “Only Dustin told Steve what happened the other day with Ed-“

“Robin,” Nancy shushed her.

“Great, so everyone and their mums know about me getting rejected by Eddie,” you sarcastically replied, as you rubbed your shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked you.

“Nothing, just feeling sore. I did a some trials at the new gym in town.”

“Really? How did you feel after that?”

“Physically, I’m in pain obviously,” you took a sip of your fruit juice before continuing to speak. “But mentally, I felt better. It really kept my mind off what happened the other day.”

“Well, that’s great,” Nancy replied, smiling at you. “But, try not to overdo it.”

“Don’t worry,” you assured her and Robin. “I’m only doing two sessions a week, just taking it slow and steady.”

Meanwhile, the boys at Hellfire were chatting about the next campaign when Eddie looked over to where you were sitting, watching you happily chatting to Nancy and Robin, as he felt a pinch of guilt over what happened. He thought to himself that if he hadn’t made that bet with the party, would you have confessed to him anyway?

Suddenly, he saw you get up from your seat. You walked past the boys when Eddie called for you, as he got up.

You reluctantly stopped and turned to face him, as he went up to you.

“How come you’re not sitting with us today?” He asked you.

You shrugged before replying, “Just wanted to sit with my other friends. Not a crime, is it?”

“No. But you didn’t even come and see us rehearse over the weekend.”

“Been busy,” you coldly told him.

Eddie sighed as he moved closer to you, before he began to speak. “Look, I’m sorry if I hurt you by reject-“

“I need to get going. Shouldn’t you be making goo-goo eyes at Samantha or Chrissy or whichever cheerleader you’ve got your eye on at the moment or something?” You leered at him before walking out of the cafeteria.

As he watched you walk out, he felt a pain in his chest.

“Well done, Munson,” he told himself sarcastically, clenching his fist. He sighed before he made his way back to the table.

A month had passed since the failed confession. Not only did you feel mentally better, but you also lost a bit weight, which was a bonus.

Even the jocks took notice. You were in gym class one day, running around the tracks past Jason and some of the basketball players. They turned around and watched you run as fast as you could.

“Who knew that the freak could run fast?” Jason told his teammates.

“Yeah, it’ll be more of a challenge to chase her and the other freaks,” Andy snickered.

“She looks pretty good,” Patrick admitted, while watching you.

They were unaware that Eddie, Jeff and Grant had overheard them.

Jeff and Grant observed you as they mentioned how healthy you looked, while Eddie silently watched you stretch while talking to the P.E teacher, who was pleased with your progress.

“Keep up the good work,” the teacher told you.

“Thanks,” you replied.

As you started doing another lap, the teacher turned to three boys and blew his whistle, before telling them, “Move your asses!”

Later on, you were in the changing room, getting changed after taking a shower when you were approached by Chrissy and Eddie’s crush, Samantha.

Chrissy tapped your shoulder, startling you.

You were unsure why they would approach you as you hardly spoke two words to them. Chrissy greeted you, before telling you, “We just wanted to come over to tell you that you look amazing.”

“Um...thank you?” You replied, looking confused.

“We saw you earlier and we couldn’t believe how fast you were on the tracks,” Samantha complimented you. “Even Patrick said that you looked good.”

As you finished getting changed, they asked you where you work out. You mentioned about the gym that you go to, which coincidentally was the same place they go to.

“We’ve been going there for yoga classes every Saturday. Have you tried it?” Chrissy asked you.

You shook your head, as you told them, “I mainly do bootcamp or boxercise.”

“Oh, you should try it,” Samantha told you. “It really helps with your flexibility. Not to mention it helps relieve the muscles.”

It was strange, a month ago you were upset that Eddie liked Samantha, and there you were, talking about yoga classes with her and Chrissy.

You smiled as you told her, “Yeah, okay. I’ll give it a go.”

“Great, we’ll see you then.” After Chrissy and the cheerleaders said goodbye to you, you grabbed your bag, smiling to yourself.

After school, you decided to have a quiet read in the woods. You took out a couple books about nutritions and fitness from the library earlier. You were writing notes down about the contents of the books when you overheard a couple of people talking.

You got up and picked up the books from the ground, before heading to where the voices were coming from.

You continued walking until you spotted Eddie and Chrissy at the picnic table.

You saw them doing an exchange when Chrissy noticed you. She waved at you, making Eddie turn to your direction.

As you waved back at her, Eddie asked, “Are you spying on us?”

“I came here to read,” you retorted as you showed him one of the book covers.

“Isn’t that what libraries are for? For reading?” Eddie snarked, which made you glare at him.

The tension was cut down when Chrissy chimed in, “Well, I need to go and meet Jason.”

After Chrissy had put her bag of weed in her rucksack, she got up and told you, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

After Chrissy said goodbye to you both, Eddie turned to you and asked, “What’s happening on Saturday?”

“If you must know, I’m going to a yoga class with Chrissy and Samantha.”

Eddie was about to speak when you told him, “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything embarrassing about you to them.”

As you walked away, Eddie groaned while he banged his head on the table.

“Why is she making feel like this?”

Even though he rejected you, he couldn’t help but regret it. He admitted he liked Samantha. He even admitted before that he had a crush on Chrissy in middle school, as well as some other cheerleaders before Samantha. But he had to admit, he was starting to notice you more. Although you don’t hang out with everyone as much as you used to, you still attended Hellfire. But he, as well as everyone else, noticed the changes in you, like how you switched from having your favourite soft drink in your chalice, to having water or smoothies. You even brought in fruit to the meetings, much to the guys’ surprise. He started to wonder if there will come a time when you decided to leave Hellfire for good and turn to the dark side.

A week later, you were in the cafeteria chatting to Chrissy and Samantha, thanking them for getting you into yoga.

“It really helped with my muscles,” you told him.

“We’re glad you enjoyed it,” Chrissy replied. “Hopefully we’ll do it again.”

“Definitely.”

Meanwhile, Eddie was watching you from the Hellfire table, as you said goodbye to Chrissy and her friends, before you made your way to the Hellfire table, taking out your folded Hellfire club shirt from your backpack.

You approached the Hellfire table, as everyone greeted you.

“Look who’s finally managed to grace us with their presence,” Eddie sarcastically said.

You sighed before telling Eddie, “I’m not staying.” You held out the folded shirt to him as you continued to speak. “I just need to give this back.”

Eddie looked at the folded shirt, and sighed, before telling you, “Sweetheart, you don’t have to...”

“Yes I do, I-“

Suddenly, Eddie stood up, towering over you, as he raised his voice at you, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Look, just because I rejected you and told you that I liked Samantha, it doesn’t mean that you have to quit-“

“I wasn’t going to quit, idiot!”

“Then why are you giving back your shirt?!”

You unfolded your newly shrunken shirt in front of him, as you sternly explained, “It shrunk in the wash. I needed a new one.”

Dustin shook his head at Eddie, as you were about to walk away when Eddie grabbed your hand, and told you, “Sorry, I thought after what happened-“

“What? That I would just, quit?” You retorted, as you wriggled out of his grasp. “That was over a month ago, Eddie. Just because you rejected me after I confessed how I felt about you, it doesn’t mean I wanted to quit Hellfire. I would’ve already left by then if I wanted to.”

Eddie silently looked at you when you threw your newly shrunken shirt at him, before telling him, “But if it bothers you so much, then I’ll be happy to leave. At least I can have more time to do something else that I love.”

The rest of Hellfire pleaded for you to come back as you stormed out of the cafeteria. Eddie sat back down, lost for words. It was bad enough for him that he could sense that a lot of people, even the boys, glaring at him. But it was worse seeing Samantha and Chrissy, who had witnessed the fallout, giving him a death stare, as they left to check on you.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, regretting how he spoke to you. He quickly stood up and ran out of the cafeteria to find you.

Meanwhile, you ran outside when a soccer ball hit your foot.

You heard a guy from across the field telling you to give him and his friends their ball back.

You grunted as you kicked the ball as hard as you could, needing to take your angry out of something.

Suddenly, the ball hit someone in the face.

“Shit,” you muttered, as you ran up to the injured person.

It was Patrick McKinney.

“I am so sorry,” you told him, as you checked on him. “Let me take you to the nurse’s office.”

Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose, stopping his nosebleed. You guided him inside, as you continued to apologise to him.

Suddenly, Chrissy and Samantha came running through the hallway and spotted you.

As Chrissy went up to you, she said, “Listen, what Eddie said was totally-“ She stopped talking when she noticed Patrick’s injury. “Patrick, what happened?”

“Let’s just say McKinney got caught in the crossfire,” you told her.

You continued to guide Patrick to the nurse’s office when Eddie came out and spotted you.

He went up to you, as he began to speak, “Listen, sweetheart. I-“

“Eddie! Now’s not a good time,” you scolded him, as you and Patrick made your way to the nurse’s office.

Eddie called out to you, when Chrissy asked him, “Didn’t you hear what she said?”

Eddie turned to her, as Samantha went up to him and told him, “You know, even if I wasn’t with Chance, I wouldn’t date you, not after the way you treated her. You were a real asshole.”

Eddie felt like someone ripped his heart out, hearing her telling him that.

He was about to speak, when Chrissy told him, “She worked really hard to get to where she is now, so please, don’t spoil it for her.”

Eddie froze, as he watched the two girls follow you and Patrick.

He then looked down to the shrunk Hellfire shirt in his hand and groaned.

He knew that he had to make it up to you.

Eddie ran towards the nurse’s office when he overheard you and Patrick talking.

“I’m really sorry again for hitting you in the face,” Eddie heard you apologise.

“Don’t worry about it,” Patrick replied. “It’s not gonna affect my gameplay.”

“Maybe next time, I should take it out on a punchbag.”

Patrick laughed, when Chrissy asked you, “Speaking of punch bags, when are you going to do boxercise?”

“I’m going on Friday,” you replied. “Why?”

“Well, Jason said that he’s thinking of doing it. Maybe we could all do it together.”

“I would ask Chance to come,” Samantha said. “But I know he’s working with his dad that night.”

As soon as you mentioned the time of the session, Eddie quickly ran back to the cafeteria, almost knocking over one of the teachers and made his way to the table.

“Did you find her?” Dustin asked him.

“Better than that,” Eddie panted. “I know where she’ll be on Friday.”

Eddie told them about the gym session you were going to.

“Gentlemen,” he began to tell them. “Hear me out.”

#eddie munson #stranger things au #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader

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zwy01 · 4 months

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Arya doodles!!!

Aww my poor, poor girl. It’s her time to be given love and lots of hugs.

This is my OC, Arya K. Landegre! She is Regis and Rael’s daughter, and the former’s heir.

I haven’t gone in depth with her backstory yet, so I’m going to do that here. She’s one of my 15 “main” characters of my Millennium AU and her full bio is up in my pinned post.

I’ll be mentioning some other names in here too so to quickly recap, Arya is the younger one of the two Regis/Rael kids and her full-sibling and elder brother is Raegyn Kertia. (Arya has three half-siblings, with her elder half-brother Kaelestis Blerster on Rael’s side, and younger half-brother Garyth J. Loyard and younger half-sister Alethea J. Loyard on Regis’ side.) Arya has a pretty good relationship with her loving family, but it is a hard-earned one with a rocky beginning and a long, arduous journey. I’ll be explaining exactly why in a bit. Yay!!!

I love Arya for how dynamic she is and I’ve barely mentioned the more detailed stuff so here we are! My sweet Ari’s (almost) full backstory.

We already know that Arya is the odd one out in her generation. Among her fellow future Clan Leaders, Arya stands out as the one that is the least noble-like. She’s cringy, loud, fidgety, and most of all you just can’t get her to behave herself like a proper noble. If Lukedonia had yearbooks, she’d be nominated as the class clown. Hey, being so stiff all the time isn’t fun, right? I mean, just look at that freakishly long lifespan nobles have. You’re saying you’re gonna be around for at least a few more millennia, yet being uptight is the only way you know how, huh? Pfft, not in Arya’s watch. She’s gonna show you what real fun is, by ditching all formalities in favor of “you know, just winging it!”. After all, life is boring without a little improvisation every now and then. And if that means leaving your comfort zone, then Arya will be the one to hold your hand and guide you through your newfound fun. In a sense, Arya is the opposite of her big brother Raegyn Kertia. Raegyn loves to plan every little detail of his life, making sure to never go off track for even the tiniest of things, while Arya likes to live spontaneously. The past won’t hold her back, and the future does not concern her either. Any problems or consequences that arise, she will leave it to her “future self”. Duh. On many occasions, Raegyn had attempted to teach Arya the importance of planning things and the concept of delayed gratification, to no avail. Whatever he tells her seems to go in one ear and out the other. It’s Arya, what else did you expect from her? She’s just going to giggle and shrug it off. They are not too worried about her though, because she seems to be able to find a good balance in life despite her carefree nature, so they let her be. I mean, she is pretty wild, but it’s not like she’s going to burn down the forest or steal artifacts from the treasury for fun, right? Yeah, no way that’s going to happen. Mhm. Huh. Wait… hold up. Actually, forget it. She might. It’s unlikely though. Well, she doesn’t do that anymore. Anymore? What exactly does that mean? That’s where it gets interesting, so sit back and enjoy.

Remember in my last post about Raegyn where I said that Regis and Rael were super relieved that their Arya was a normal child with normal development, and not a “special” child like their difficult son? They were right about their daughter… at least partially. Regis and Rael waited for almost two centuries before having their second child. Their first child Raegyn gave them a hard time because he was too much of an outlier with his unmatched super intelligence. After Arya was born, and for some time in her early childhood, Regis and Rael had their eyes on her all the time, vigilantly watching for any signs that would show that she’s not an average child, and in turn they would give her the extra support she needs. And they waited. And waited. Thankfully, those signs never showed up. Whew. They could finally relax, as they only needed to deal to with Raegyn, and it seemed like they could raise Arya like they would with a normal child. Arya was average, in a good way. She was a bit too lively and feisty at times, but that’s not a big deal. She’s a kid, after all. Who doesn’t like an energetic kid? Regis and Rael had to discipline her occasionally, but other than that, they didn’t need to do much. They had a good time together as a family, and everyone was certain that Arya had a bright future ahead of her. Or, that’s what they thought. Uh oh.

Turns out her parents overlooked her feistiness, and there was a deeper underlying issue. This became more apparent as Arya grew a bit older, when she reached the human equivalent of a ten year old. At this point it wasn’t as simple as kiddie tantrums anymore. Regis and Rael found it increasingly difficult to discipline their daughter and calm her down when she got all worked up. Arya had a short fuse. A very short one. She was joyful and radiant, just as much as she had a big temper. She cried when she didn’t get what she wanted, she screamed when her parents gave Raegyn a millisecond more of attention than they did to her, and kicked and shoved and knocked things off tables when something simply wasn’t to her liking. And when she felt uneasy, she couldn’t stay still and was always pacing around, fidgeting, or both. And that’s when Regis and Rael finally understood what’s going on, when they realized that Arya may be even more difficult than their already difficult son.

If we’re being nice, then we can say that Arya has a… very strong personality. If we’re being honest, then Arya is a major pain in the ass. It’s as simple as that. She is only fun for as long as she doesn’t spiral into one of her tantrums, before her parents, Raegyn, or someone else needs to step in to physically restrain her until she calms down. And it’s worth noting that Regis and Rael were not neglectful or anything. They were attentive and loving parents who did their best to ensure that their daughter had everything she needed. It’s just that Arya happened to inherit several of her parents’ less desirable personality traits. Mix and match, boom. A recipe for disaster. Arya inherited Regis’ stubbornness, and Rael’s tendency to be possessive, jealous, and impulsive. Regis is more flexible now, and even Rael has shown massive improvement and growth, and doesn’t act like he did in his youth anymore. But Arya was only a child. She was still young, and she has yet to go through centuries of practice. Regis and Rael were really trying their hardest, but their daughter just didn’t seem to show any signs of improvement. For now, they’ll just keep trying in hopes that their little Ari would get better eventually. Maybe they were even in denial, as they didn’t like the possibility of Arya not being able to grow out of her “phase”, so to speak.

Despite the less positive aspects of her personality, kiddie Arya loved her parents very much, and she made sure to let them know. Raegyn’s situation was an entirely different case, as Regis and Rael parented him in a very unconventional way that didn’t quite resemble the dynamics of a typical parent-child relationship. On the other hand, Arya’s bond with her parents strongly resembled that of a typical parent-child relationship. She absolutely adored both her fathers, and loved being their baby. To little Arya, they were her everything. And they still are now. Regis and Rael are delighted with how their daughter loves them so much and how she never hesitates to express her love. The two of them didn’t really feel the same sentiment coming from their first child Raegyn during his childhood, and Raegyn still is kind of aloof as an adult. (They know that Raegyn loves them too, but Raegyn just never really bothered with the excessively sentimental stuff) To be honest, Raegyn is relieved that his sister is here to divert his parents’ attention so they don’t “loiter” around him all the time, and he can finally get some of that long desired freedom. And his sister being difficult doesn’t bother him because she is their parents’ kid, not his, so she’s not his problem. At most he’ll just step in when he needs to pretend to be a good big brother, or when his parents ask him to.

And Arya? She loves her brother dearly, and knows that he loves her too. Brother Rayray is nice. He reads books to Ari and gives Ari candies. He teaches Ari how to play games. He’s all good …until the very moment he gets more attention from their parents. Then she’s not so enthusiastic about him anymore. Do you see where I am getting at. As much as Arya adores Raegyn, she doesn’t actually mind how Raegyn is often absent during “family bonding time” because guess what? She can have her fathers alllll to herself. Maybe it’s even a good thing, even if it is one she can’t say out loud.

Arya is totally a daddy’s girl for both of her fathers. The two of them have different roles. Rael is the “fun” parent. Yes, Arya is his sweet little girl and he’s forever grateful for her very existence, but above all else, he sees himself in her. As difficult as Arya can be sometimes, she bears extreme resemblance to Rael and he loves her for that. Rael doesn’t mind Arya being a little feisty because he was like that in his youth too, and he turned out alright, didn’t he? Maybe he’s even proud of her for being so “lively”. That’s right, she’s his little girl! Arya is nearly identical to Rael in both looks and personality. If only she had the Kertia blonde as well, her parents joke. In addition, since the beginning, Rael had desperately wanted a child to pour all his love into, but Raegyn wasn’t quite what he had expected, so he didn’t get to experience the typical joy of parenting. Then Arya came along. Arya adored him, admired him, and stuck to him like a piece of gum. She practically glued herself onto her Kertia daddy.

Rael is of course absolutely overjoyed, and responded by showering her with every ounce of affection in his system. He often lets Arya indulge herself in things, and gives in to her begging. He spoils Arya by sneaking her out of class early, letting her stay past bedtime, slipping an extra cookie when Regis isn’t looking... etc. Anything to see his little girl put on a big, big smile and hear her say “thank you Daddy” with enthusiasm. Perhaps he went a little too overboard, and the spoiling became a bit excessive. But hey, Rael just can’t help it. In a way, whatever he wished he could’ve done but didn’t get to do with Raegyn, he fulfilled through Arya. Arya basically gets double of everything. And she’s just too cute. I mean, she’s a chip off the old block! Rael continues the spoiling well into Arya’s teen years. This does eventually snowball into a bigger problem, which will be addressed later.

On the other hand, Regis is the “strict” parent. For most of the time, he lets Rael have fun with Arya because he knows how deeply Rael cherishes that affectionate bond with their daughter. At the same time Regis never misses the chance to discipline Arya when she needs it. Kiddie Raegyn was very self-sufficient and preferred independence over being “parented”; Arya was not, and needed plenty of parental support and behavioral correction. Sorry kiddo, no more skipping classes for you, and whining won’t make demands come true. Jokes aside, other than being the rule enforcing parent, Regis is very, very affectionate with Arya and they have an extremely close father-daughter relationship. Lovely. Regis can be proud of himself. He used to get flustered at something as simple as getting his head patted by (his basically adopted sister) Seira, and now he is actually pretty comfortable with giving and receiving both physical and emotional affection. One of Arya’s favorite things to do as a kid was running her little fingers through Regis’ hair and playing with his black streaks, and then happily pointing at her own streaks while exclaiming “I’m a Landegre!” To which Regis would smile and respond, “yes, my little Ari”. Aww, how precious. Arya takes great pride in being Regis’ daughter and heir. She is her daddy’s successor, the great Regis K. Landegre!

While it’s true that Arya tends to go to her Kertia daddy when she wants to get the okays to break rules or have some relatively reckless fun, it is Regis who is her favorite. Sorry Rael. He doesn’t have to know Regis is Arya’s number one. Period. Has always been, and will always be. As soon as Arya could recognize her surroundings, Regis became the center of her world. If she admired Rael, then she idolized Regis. She loved him, she worshipped him, she put him on a pedestal. Yeah. That person over there. You see him? He’s Ari’s Landegre daddy! How sweet. It doesn’t matter if Regis didn’t let her overindulge in things, or that he’s less lenient with her misbehaving at times. Everything Regis believes in and does, is right. No arguments. Maybe she’d even get offended on his behalf if anyone tried to question him. Regis is her idol, and she’d follow in his footsteps even if she honestly doesn’t feel too much enthusiasm towards clan duties and whatnots. Young Arya actually had her parents taken by surprise when she showed that, after all, she was capable of sitting through an entire afternoon of Regis walking her through Landegre CL duties without fidgeting or complaining much. For a restless child like her, it’s an unusual and incredible feat, because she doesn’t display this extent of patience when it comes to other matters. Responsibilities and expectations, future Clan Leader, blah blah blah… even if these things didn’t really interest Arya, she’d do it for daddy dearest. Anything for Regis. She’s totally obsessed with him. Many even too obsessed. And this obsession is the catalyst for many unfortunate events to come. Remember how I said she inherited Rael’s tendency to be possessive, jealous, and impulsive? Yep, exactly that.

Fast forward to Arya’s teen years. When Arya was around the human equivalent of 13-14 year old, she “learned” about Regis’ drastically shortened lifespan. This was around the time her younger half-siblings Garyth and Alethea were born. Initially, Regis had intended to donate only one soul fragment to Seira for the birth of her heir, but their combined soul fragments unexpectedly split into two separate, unstable pieces and Regis didn’t have the heart to let the smaller piece perish. So in an attempt to save it, as it was dying, he extracted another soul fragment from himself and gave it to the smaller piece that would later become Alethea. He succeeded. They succeeded. But the unexpected extra soul fragment extraction shortened his lifespan even more. Three soul fragment extractions is already pushing the limits for noble standards. Four? That’s unheard of. Regis didn’t have much longer to live. Uh oh. Arya is definitely not going to take this well.

And this is not due to Arya previously being oblivious to the mechanism behind noble birth or anything. All nobles know that having children would shorten one’s lifespan. They understood how it worked, and that a noble’s lifespan would roughly halve for each child etc. Arya knew this as well. However, she only started to really think about it once her half-siblings were born, because she never really saw Regis that way. All this time she had been busy obsessing over him and putting him on a pedestal. She had been way too in love with the concept of him being her father to the point where she basically almost completely forgot about the fact that no, he indeed won’t be around forever. Regis is not immortal. To make matters worse, not only was Regis not immortal, he also doesn’t have much left. Time is ticking. Regis is dying. Her daddy, her idol, her world — he’s dying. The shock comes from the realization, perhaps one that is a little too late. It’s also important to note that Regis did not consult with either of his children regarding his decision to contribute what is essentially his lifespan to Seira’s heir. Regis had only spoken with his husband Rael regarding this matter and both of them agreed that his contribution to Seira would be a good idea. After all, Seira is family to Regis. Of course he would help her with her heir. By both Lukedonian law and common practice, neither juvenile nor adult children are entitled to any input when it comes to one or both of their parents’ decision to donate more soul fragments or just having more children in general. Parents don’t need to say anything to their existing children. No one owes anyone explanations. That’s just how things are.

Though, on a personal level, that’s where things get complicated. The Regis/Rael kids only learned about their half-siblings after their birth. Raegyn’s reaction upon hearing the news was just… nothing. He simply raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and gave a fake smile. Neat. Sure, more siblings, though they aren’t his problem, they’re Seira’s, so he doesn’t care. And while Raegyn loves Regis, he respects Regis’ decision (and his parents’ collective agreement) about what Regis wants to do with his lifespan. If he wanted to shave off more years for the sake of his family aka Seira, then go for it. To be honest, Raegyn probably isn’t even attached enough to Regis for him to care. Arya on the other hand… oh boy.

Unlike Raegyn, who was calm and supportive, Arya did not take it well. In fact, she took it quite personally. Very personally. Extremely personally. Upon the initial news delivery of her half-siblings’ birth, she was shocked. Arya went numb, and didn’t seem to have any reaction at all. It took her a whole day to process the information and then it hit her. She excused herself and locked herself in her room. Witnesses recalled how the horrific, explosive screams that seemed to have come from the Landegre manor did not stop for an entire week. There was some sobbing, some hysterical laughing, but mostly screams. Screams much, much worse than what you’d imagine would come from tortured souls from the depths of hell. Bystanders could feel the sheer force of anger and despair in the very core of those screams just by listening. And not once did Arya think of using her noble powers for noise canceling. It may have even been deliberate, as she wanted the whole world to know that she’s upset, even if she won’t actually say why. Even her own parents can’t seem to get her to talk. The screams only stopped when Arya grew too tired and passed out in exhaustion for another week. People eventually forgot that this had happened, and simply shrugged it off as one of her “usual tantrums”. It was only oddly timed, because it happened right after her half-siblings were born, but other than that, no big deal, right? Then they’re wrong. Very, very wrong. Raegyn knows why because he is more than smart enough to tell. He doesn’t care, though.

Arya felt betrayed. Regis betrayed her. He betrayed her by giving his lifespan away without even telling her. He never once asked for her opinion, and he didn’t even bother to notify her of the decision, as if it was never a big deal to start with. Rael betrayed her as well. He betrayed her by not stopping Regis, because he clearly had a part in the final decision, right? Arya knows she has no claim over how Regis plans to use his lifespan, but still… she is his daughter, their daughter, and she had every reason to be upset with Regis literally handing away his life, the very life which he was supposed to spend with her. Both Regis and Rael betrayed her. Her fathers, her daddies, the two of them — both of them — turned their backs on her just like that. Yet Arya could not bring this up to either of them. She just can’t. She can’t tell them she’s upset. She did not know how to approach this subject, neither did she have any clue on how to sort out her rampaging questions and feelings. The mere thought of this clutter of a mess makes her feel sick. Her stomach sinks, and her chest aches. A deep, pulsating ache that seems to spread to every corner of her body. When she thinks she has worked up the courage to say it out loud, the clutter lodges in her throat and she loses the ability to speak. She physically can’t say those words. Her muscles tense up, and she starts sweating. She tries to speak those words but nothing comes out despite her moving her mouth. Only an inaudible, croaky cry. And then she’ll tear up. It’s impossible. She just can’t. Arya can’t ask any questions, her one thousand why’s. Why, why, why, why, just… why. Ari knows that Seira is daddy’s family too, and daddy wants to help her and show her his support… but isn’t Ari also daddy’s family? She is his daughter and heir, and she should’ve been his top priority. Was she, in his eyes, not important enough for him to not give away a portion of his lifespan just like that? Did he even think of her when he extracted the soul fragments from himself?? Can he really bear the thought of leaving her behind, before she is ready to face this world by herself??? Does he even care…? These thoughts and questions would continue to torment her for the longest of times. You’d probably ask, why can’t Regis and Rael just read her mind? Well, they certainly tried. They failed. They couldn’t see anything when they attempted to read their distressed daughter’s mind. It probably had something to do with Arya’s defensive mechanism, where she had unconsciously formed some sort of intangible barrier that prevented people from reading her mind.

Regis and Rael did not know how to comfort their daughter, as she just wouldn’t tell them why she’s upset, and they see nothing when they read her mind. All they can do is give her hugs when she asks for them. Especially Regis. Arya would bury her face into his chest and cry for hours. He can only softly stroke her head and give her gentles pats on her back, hoping that it would ease whatever pain his daughter is experiencing. Not a word spoken from either one of them, with Arya’s occasional inaudible mumbles breaking the silence. And Raegyn? He’s completely out of the picture. He hates anything emotional, which includes dealing with the feelings of others, even when it comes to his sister. Raegyn nopes the hell out of their home as soon as Arya gets worked up, so he doesn’t have to pretend to be nice and comfort her. Every single time. Poof and he’s gone, and you can guarantee that you won’t be able to find him until Arya is finished with her business. Though Regis, Rael, and Arya herself are probably too busy to notice Raegyn is missing.

Arya’s impeding grief shouldn’t be taken lightly. All bottled up along with her grief is her anger, sadness and confusion. It will accumulate, and might as well kill her one day. All that energy has to be released somewhere right? Telling her family isn’t an option because she simply can’t. Her friends and acquaintances… they might react negatively. She can’t say for sure, but she is hesitant about opening up to them about this sensitive subject. And great-grandfather Gejutel is too busy, who knows if he’ll even care. And all the other adults aren’t trustworthy enough in Arya’s eyes. There was no one she could go to. Arya was alone. Arya was desperate. She once was the happiest girl on the planet. She had loving parents, and a nice big brother. There was nothing else she wished for. She only wanted life to stay as it is, with Regis as the center of her world. Regis, Regis, Regis. Her number one. And now he’s dying, by his own choice, albeit indirectly. He had about less than two thousand years left. Even then two thousand years by itself is a long time. Not for Arya. She could spend all eternity with Regis if she could. If Regis didn’t extract two more fragments from himself, he would have had around eight thousand years left. There’s nothing Regis can do, there’s nothing anyone can do. There’s nothing Arya can do. She’d give up part of her own lifespan and transfer it to her father if she could, if that means getting to spent more time with him, but that is impossible. Even if she could, she just knows Regis would never let one of his own children cut their lifespan short just so he could live for longer. It should be the other way, if any. Ugh. Regis is too kind and too generous for his own good. There was nothing left for Arya to do, except to accept the truth and deal with it. But Arya didn’t want to. There has to be another way. She felt cornered. And then she snapped.

The first obvious change was Arya’s newfound apathy regarding her clan. Arya completely lost interest in the Landegres. She stopped caring about her status as future Clan Leader. Clan duties, managing her future clan members, paperwork, leadership training… none of that mattered to her anymore. At first she only had occasional absences. Those grew into frequent absences, and in the end she skipped her lessons altogether. She just stopped showing up. She was never genuinely interested in these things to start with. She made herself sit through all that boring, repetitive nonsense for Regis’ sake, and if her daddy isn’t going to be around for much longer, then she doesn’t want to partake in this anymore. Arya is determined to just ditch it all. And she isn’t even bad at being future Clan Leader. She is pretty average at most things, but she is a hard worker. Without talent, she makes it up with effort. Now that Regis will be gone soon, none of this means anything to her anymore. We’re talking about almost two centuries of hard work that Arya is ready to abandon. If Regis can choose to leave her behind, then she can choose to leave all of this behind too. Her parents and Lukedonia’s general population are very worried about her sudden change in attitude, but all they could do is to hold their breath and hope that the passionate Arya would come back one day.

The second, and perhaps even worse than the first, is Arya turning towards causing trouble for the sake of trouble. Arya is already naturally prone to recklessness and impulsivity thanks to getting those personality traits from Rael. All these years she’s been trying her best to control herself, albeit with limited degrees of success. The point is at least she tried. Now take that, and actually give Arya a reason to not work hard to behave herself anymore. From her perspective, she is justified to do as she pleases because Regis betrayed her trust. The world betrayed her trust. Her acting out and being a menace made sense. She’s just responding accordingly. Yeah. Exactly that. Lukedonia can’t complain, no one can complain, because they gave her no choice. They forced her into this, and now they have to deal with her whether they like it or not. If they can’t handle her, it’s not her problem.

And I would like to mention a key difference between Raegyn and Arya. It is one that defines them and sets them apart, and that is the gap between their maximum capacity and potential when it comes their character. Raegyn is the outlier. His intelligence, flexibility, and social skills are all top tier. He is basically built for success. That’s just what he was born with. You can say he was blessed with everything he needs in this life. Not only is Raegyn academically gifted, he is also extremely smart with people. Raegyn knows how to order around, and his friends targets don’t even know that they’re being manipulated by him. He is also more than smart enough to get away with committing crime and being a real danger, if that is what he wishes to entertain himself with. Except he isn’t interested in that stuff. He has the potential to be dangerous, but he isn’t.

This is where Arya comes in. Arya is average. She is average compared to Raegyn, and she is average by herself. Her intelligence? Average. Her social skills? Average. Her fighting prowess? Better than most of Lukedonia, but when compared to her fellow future Clan Leaders, average. Arya is simply… average. She wasn’t spectacular at anything, nor was she severely lacking. She simply was. And depending on how you look at things, this could be both good and bad. In Arya’s case, it’s definitely bad. Why? Because now Arya wants to wreak havoc just because. Except she isn’t nearly as smart as she needs to be to execute it in the way that would keep herself out of trouble. Combine that with her impulsivity, and what you get is an unpredictable, unstable person who is reckless enough to get herself into trouble but isn’t smart enough to get herself out of it. Arya is also bossy like Rael. She likes to control people, except unlike Raegyn, she isn’t smart enough to know how to order around. If Raegyn uses brains, then Arya uses force. Raegyn gains control over people by being smart. Arya isn’t capable of mimicking even just a fraction of that. That is why Raegyn is popular while Arya has a debatable reputation among her people. And just like Rael, Arya isn’t the best at dealing with being told “no” by others. Yiiiiikes.

And here’s the deal. Arya is average. We know that. Is Arya aware? Perhaps. She isn’t dumb enough to not know that she is in fact average. She knows what her limits are. Does knowing that stop her from being a menace? No. Arya doesn’t care. Who cares if she isn’t smart enough. If she wants to cause trouble, then she will cause trouble. Consequences are for later. They do not concern her. Nothing is going to stop her, and nothing can stop her. The stubbornness she got from Regis is certainly running its gears here, for the worst.

What exactly does Arya do? The list could go on forever. A few of her more “notable” and favorite crimes to commit include arson, blackmail, bribery, forgery, theft, and vandalism. Out of those, arson, theft, and vandalism stand out the most.

Arson. Arya needed to let out all that bottled up anger, and she turned to setting things on fire. It didn’t involved anyone else, and she could do it without other people noticing. If she’s going to turn to crime, then she can start with something “simple” and ease her way into bigger, more satisfying ordeals. That’s why the very first spell Arya masters is an ignition spell. The Landegres aren’t a magic aligned clan, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t learn a few spells. It first started with smaller things that didn’t matter as much. Pages from her notebook, a childhood toy, old clothes, things that are going to the trash anyway, etc. Items she wouldn’t miss, that no one would miss. How cathartic. It didn’t numb her pain of Regis’ impeding passing, but it was better than nothing. She could imagine that she is watching the world burn. And when she got comfortable with burning smaller items, she moved onto bigger items. Burning less important items no longer gave her the satisfaction she needed. So she looked for more. A couch. A closet. A statue. An abandoned cabin. A small patch of forest in the Loyard territory. It goes exactly where you think. Things spiraled out of control. And the thing is Arya only bothered to learn an ignition spell, and not a counter-spell for it. Arya had to cry for help because she realized that the entire forest will burn down soon if no one intervened. The nobles who responded were able to put out the fire just in time before it reached the Loyard manor. And Arya? She was punished for it. Her Clan Leader issued the punishment himself. But she was still a juvenile, so she didn’t get what she arguably deserved, which is a punishment befitting of her crime if she were an adult. Will this stop Arya from committing more arson? No.

Theft. Arya also began to steal. At first it started with sneaking less valuable items out of people’s pockets. Things people wouldn’t immediately realize have disappeared, and by the time they wanted to looked for them, they were long gone. All in Arya’s possession. And, you guessed it, stealing smaller items was no longer enough for Arya. Then Arya moved onto stealing bigger things. She targeted items that potentially had high sentimental value. We’re talking diaries, jewelry, lockets, portraits, even old cooking pans. The mere thought of people breaking down and panicking over lost items was amusing to her. Sweet sweet. Of course the pain they would feel is not nearly enough to compare to what she has to go through when it comes to her dying daddy, but it’s better than nothing. They better cry. Be in pain, just like her. If she couldn’t be happy, then none of them should. Just like with Arya’s arson crimes, her stealing things got out of hand real quick and soon Arya was breaking into various clans’ treasuries and smuggling important statues and sculptures out of there and into her home. Except Arya isn’t exactly smart, like I mentioned earlier. She’s not at all an expert it comes to covering her tracks, and on her second break-in attempt in the Blerster territory, she got caught in the act by none other than Karias Blerster himself. Karias handed Arya to Regis and he had to punish her again. When he searched her room, they found many, many other stolen items and Regis made sure to make her return them to their respective owners before he grounded her. Again, like before, is this going to stop Arya from committing theft again? Haha, no.

Vandalism. At this point Arya didn’t even bother to be discreet anymore. If she’s not smart enough to get away with anything she does, then she might as well stop all attempt to cover her tracks. Committing crime was her outlet, and she needed it. No one was going to take that away from her. Hell, if she can’t give up committing crime as her primary coping mechanism, then she’s just going to accept that that’s her new life. She might even be petty enough to announce that she is behind whatever chaotic shit is going on. Smashed a window? She would smear “Arya was here” on the walls with her blood. Sabotaged a garden full of herbs and other important plants? She would rearrange the uprooted and trampled plants to spell “Haha losers” for garden’s owner to witness. Destroyed part of a building? She would stand on the roof and laugh and laugh and laugh, and scream “come catch me you suckers!”as she waves her arms around. Again, Regis would be the one to punish her. He doesn’t understand why Arya suddenly turned to delinquency. Does she really enjoy being a criminal? Is this Arya’s true nature…? Neither Regis nor Rael know that Arya is simply doing this to cope with Regis’ shortened lifespan. They are not aware of the fact that this is her coping mechanism. It isn’t a justified one, for sure, but still. They do not know her true motives, and she seems to be reluctant when questioned.

In no time, Arya became notorious for being criminal. Moods were ruined and atmospheres were spoiled as soon as her name was brought up. A rumor began to circulate, one that said that if you said Arya’s name, your home would light up in flames. There was a collective sentiment among the nobles where they all agreed that they couldn’t wait for Arya to come of age so she can be tried as an adult.

Raegyn is rather unhappy with his younger sister’s… newfound hobbies. She is indirectly affecting his social life because now people just want to ask about his “delinquent sister”. That’s all they want to talk about. Dammit, it’s not his fault his sister has a “underdeveloped prefrontal cortex”, as he puts it. Thankfully he is rational enough to not say that out loud. Arya doesn’t need to know.

And Regis? Regis tries everything he can to correct and put Arya’s behavior to a permanent stop. And he fails spectacularly. He tried being nice with the gentle approach. He also tried the stern and authoritarian approach. Him questioning Arya would usually result in two endings, with Arya either pretending she can’t hear him and covering her ears and singing lalala, or she’ll burst into tears and sob uncontrollably. Regis could tell that those tears were genuine, but he just couldn’t get Arya to talk. Her confessing to the motives behind her crimes wouldn’t lighten her punishments, but at least Regis could have an answer as to why she is acting like this. In the end, nothing works. Regis seems to begin to lose hope in his daughter. His patience and faith in Arya started to wane. As much as Regis still loves her, he couldn’t recognize his little girl anymore. Regis is heartbroken.

Things aren’t any better for Rael. Remember when I said that Rael is the parent who spoils Arya? Well, things took an even worse turn. Arya started to bring up Rael during verbal interrogations. She ran out of excuses to bullshit, and then… she recalls stories about Rael being a former criminal, like him blowing up a portion of the castle when Seira rejected his proposal. Aha. The perfect excuse. She can just say she’s just like Rael. Can’t help it, it’s in her blood. What can she do, she’s her Kertia daddy’s daughter. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Something like that. He can soften the blow for her. And then Rael inevitably gets roped into dealing with Arya’s destructive behaviors. Of course Arya is the perpetrator, and Rael is not part of it. But still, he does have some things from his old days on his criminal record, so… to say that people have zero suspicions, would be a lie. Surely he knows better than to prompt his daughter to indulge in crime for funsies. But who knows? Rael had to clear the common suspicions by punishing his little girl himself. Usually, he is not the one to issue her punishments as Arya is a Landegre and he is a Kertia, which leaves Regis as the ultimate decision maker. And Lord Raskreia too, but only if Arya’s crimes escalates to that level, which Rael hopes will never come true. In addition, Rael has a soft spot for Arya and her words aren’t complete nonsense. After all, he did blow things up because Seira rejected him, but he has learned from his mistakes and he’s a better person now, right…? Nevertheless, Rael is hurt by Arya doing this to him. At the same time, he also felt sorry for her, because it is true that she inherited certain traits from him, and it is partially his fault for spoiling her too much in her early days.

Arya wasn’t only a criminal. She was also a bully. And the targets of her actions? Her Loyard half-siblings. That’s right. Garyth and Alethea. Yup. The ones who stole Regis’ time from her, the time she is rightfully entitled to, and the very causes of his shortened lifespan. If Arya couldn’t blame Regis, she figured she could blame them instead. Just think about it. They’re younger than her, they’re weaker than her, and she is their older sister by blood. By that logic, they had to listen to her, right? Arya probably thinks she’s so smart for figuring that out.

To Arya, Garyth and Alethea are indebted her. They belong to her. Everything they’ve ever been, and everything they’ll ever be, they owed to her. If it weren’t for her father, her Regis, they wouldn’t even exist here. Even if they didn’t ask to exist, they are still indebted to her. Thanks to them, Arya doesn’t have much time left with her daddy dearest. First and foremost, he’s her father, they share the same surname, she should be his top priority! Except in Arya’s eyes, she wasn’t that to Regis. And to her, the Loyard siblings are living proof of that sentiment. They are just as guilty as him. Arya’s total obsession with Regis, and her wanting to have him all to herself, is driving her insane. She loves him as much as she is obsessed with him. And the truth is Arya doesn’t really have a reason to be mean to her Loyard siblings. They’re nice, well-behaved kids. They’re polite, and try to be patient around their elder half-sister.

But it didn’t matter. If Regis isn’t going to be around for much longer, then these two will love her in Regis’ place. If they don’t love her, then she will make them love her, even if that means doing so by using force. Arya bossed them around, and made them listen to her every request. They were her little workers basically. This led to a very unhappy Garyth. The Kertia bloodline is just terrible. His elder half-sister’s father Rael harassed his mother Seira, and now Arya herself is here harassing him! It runs in the family. It has to be. This just further cements little Garyth’s already boiling hatred for Rael’s guts. (Will explain this a bit more in Garyth’s own post) Meanwhile little Alethea is fine with being bossed around. She doesn’t really know what to do with her life anyway, so rather than coming up with her ideas, she could just listen to Arya. (Also explaining more in Alethea’s own post) Due to Alethea’s nature of not really having her own opinion on things, she often gets lugged around by Arya. Yes, this includes Arya’s criminal activities. Arya doesn’t fully explain things to Alethea and purposely leaves out details so Alethea would join in on her… adventures. Which is why poor Alethea is often seen following Arya as the latter’s unwitting accomplice.

Fortunately, the adults know better than to accuse Alethea along with Arya because they just know that Arya is the mastermind and Alethea simply got tricked into being a part of her shenanigans. At one point Arya got the equivalent of a restraining order and she wasn’t allowed to be within a five hundred meter radius of Alethea, until she made a written promise that she wouldn’t trick Alethea into doing illegal things again.

Ultimately, Arya’s destructive behavior is unsustainable. When she got out of being grounded, she would just commit crime again. Soon, her 200th birthday approached, and she could not do as she pleased anymore. If she were to commit the same crimes she had before, she would be tried as an adult and punishments would be much more severe, and she would have to deal with real consequences.

One faithful day, Arya was snooping around Regis’ office and she overheard a conversation between him and Rael. Regis was stressed. There was plenty of silence. And then she heard crying. It came from Regis. For all her life, she had never seen her father cry. And then it hit her. Regis weeped, and talked about how scared he is for Arya. He wasn’t angry; he wasn’t disappointed. He was scared. He didn’t know what Arya was capable of, and now that her birthday is nearing, she would get into serious trouble and he would no longer be able to save her. Her approaching coming-of-age was not one of joy nor celebration; it was one of fear. Pure fear. And then Regis started to sob. His biggest fear is having to watch Arya get executed if she really goes beyond the point of no return. Finally. The long needed moment of awakening for Arya. Her acts of rebellion wasn’t helping anyone, and it hurt her loved ones more than anyone else. Most of all, it hurt Regis. Her Regis. She needs to stop, for her own sake, and for everyone else’s sake.

Arya didn’t say anything, and quietly left before she could listen to the rest of her parents’ conversation. She stayed silent for the longest duration of time. And… she came clean to her parents. This took her parents by surprise, as they initially thought that was some prank. But she was serious. Arya walked into the center of the room, kneeled, and apologized to her parents. No tantrums, no whining, no bargaining. It was a deep, sincere apology. A heartfelt apology for everything she had done, and the worries she had caused. Arya also promised to never do those things again, and that she will make up to everyone she has wronged. Regis and Rael were moved. They could feel her sincerity, and Regis simply walked over slowly and kneeled down to Arya’s level and hugged her while rocking her gently. Just the two of them on the floor, both on their knees, in a deep embrace. One that they haven’t shared since Arya’s early teen years. Then Rael joined in, and the three of them couldn’t hold back their tears anymore, and they all sobbed together. It was messy. A good mess. Repentance leads to reconciliation, which leads to the start of a new beginning.

Arya first started by apologizing to everyone she has wronged in both writing and in person. She wrote to them first, because she wasn’t sure if they would even want to see her. After she got permission, she then went to them in person and knelt and apologized for her wrongdoings. And this went on for a long time just because of the sheer number of people she had offended. It was a long list. Arya is not going to come up with excuses this time. She is going to go through all of them, as she should. Or, the ones who are willing to accept an apology from her. Some did not want to see her, even for an apology. Many of them did not respond to her letters. Some of them even replied and basically told her to screw off and to never show her face in front of them again. This made sense. Reconciliation required the effort of both perpetrator and victim to happen, and some of her victims just weren’t having it. That is the hard truth Arya has to accept and live with. For those who did accept Arya’s apologies, they genuinely forgave her. With time, wounds healed, and Arya was ready to be back as a functional member of society. It took her a while to be able to lift her head around people again, but they accepted her back, and what position is she in to reject their kindness?

Garyth and Alethea forgave Arya too. Well, Alethea never held a grudge against Arya in the first place, Garyth just told her that she should be mad at their half-sister for manipulating them. It took a much longer time for Garyth to forgive Arya, but eventually he was able to find peace with her and move on from the past. Though, sometimes he still has a hard time looking at her face. She was a bully, even if she tries her hardest to make up to them now.

What about Arya’s duties? Well, Arya picked up her responsibilities as future Clan Leader once more. She had been neglecting them for the entire duration of her delinquency, and now she’s back at it, as she should. In fact, she’s working harder than ever before. And she’s also intensely training herself in spars. Her aim is to succeed Regis as Clan Leader as soon as possible, so he can be free to enjoy the rest of his remaining lifespan without being so busy with work and duties.

Arya’s stepping back into the light doesn’t mean that her issues have disappeared completely. In fact, they’re very much still there. The grief was real. The sadness was real. It’s a wound that will never heal in Arya’s heart, and it stings every time she thinks about her daddy dying. It’s just that her conscience has won for once and all, and she isn’t going to let the bad side of her personality to take over her anymore. She can keep it in. She has to. So what’s her new coping mechanism for her grief? Three… two… one… yep, ya guessed it. Acting like she’s happy. Too happy. Her fake cheerful personality that she puts on to trick Regis into thinking she is having a good time. The overly enthusiastic Arya who is cringy and spontaneous, but fun. She doesn’t want Regis to worry about her anymore, and wants him to be able to eventually pass knowing that she is happy and fulfilled. Yeahhhh, it’s coming together in a full circle! Woo! Is this a better alternative to her previous coping mechanism of being a delinquent? It’s debatable. Maybe this is just as unhealthy. Maybe even unhealthier. But for now… this’ll do. She has no other choice. She’ll keep up this fake cheerful persona for as long as she can. Until she breaks down again.

(Note that Arya still hasn’t told her parents that she is troubled with Regis’ impeding death. Nobody knows. They know she will never fall into crime again, but still don’t have any clue about why she was like that in first place.)

Well, the good news is, eventually Arya is able to communicate with her parents about her true thoughts a feelings. It does take a long time, and that is for a separate post. Yeeee saving that for later hehe. I will explain Arya’s relationship with her girlfriend Susanna in a separate post too!

Thank you for reading, and stay tuned for the next long character post!

See you again!

#noblesse #manhwa #myart #oc #original character #millennium au #arya k. landegre

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runwayrunway · 11 months

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No. 29 - What is the Flag Carrier of Brazil?

In part two of what is at this point going to be a three-part post, let's look at some history, which happens to include a bunch of liveries, on a quest to answer the question...well, it's the title.

We've talked a lot about flag carriers on this blog. I believe, quite emphatically, that flag carriers should have particular considerations when designing liveries, which I've discussed in my Icelandair post. After all, these are a point of national pride, at least in theory. This is one of the reasons most countries have them, and I've mentioned the US as a rare exception. The United States have never had an official flag carrier, and this persists to this day.

But what is the flag carrier of Brazil?

I asked this question on my recent questionnaire. I got a lot of answers. This one was my favorite.

But aside from that, the answers I got were all over the place, and only one of them was correct (while a handful of people did know the correct answer for Switzerland). In fact, the majority weren't real airlines, and none were airlines that currently exist. In order, the most common responses were:

An explicit admission of not knowing

Some variant of "Brazil Air" or "Brazilian Airlines" (not real, has never been real, at least not as anything except a lengthened official name to an airline which goes by something else, i.e. Azul)

Things that are just totally silly, like Green

Airlines that were real, but no longer operate, specifically one guess of TAM and one of VARIG, the latter of which was acknowledged by the submitter as being defunct

Embraer, which as far as I can tell does sort of fit the same spot for Brazil as Boeing does for the US

Rainforest Airlines (not real)

"Something Portuguese", which was a fair bet and I wish was true (you would have been right if you'd gone for the reliable Latin American answer 'an abbreviation', though)

The correct answer, from an actual Brazilian: is this a trick question?

Yeah, Brazil...doesn't really have a flag carrier, not in a way that matters. But 'what is the flag carrier of Brazil' has been an interesting question for a while now. So it doesn't have a flag carrier - what does it have? To answer that question, I first have to answer another one. It hasn't always been this way. So...where did Brazil's flag carrier go?

Founded just a month after Pan Am and slightly before Iberia, VARIG (Viação Aérea Rio-Grandense, Rio Grande Airlines) was Brazil's first airline, its largest, and its main bridge to the rest of the world. In short, its flag carrier.

Well, technically, VASP existed too. I feel like people forget about VASP. Viação Aérea São Paulo (São Paulo Airlines), known better as VASP, was founded in 1933 by the state of São Paulo.

They flew this awesome-looking plane, the General Aircraft Monospar.

Since São Paulo is nowhere near the ocean, they used only landplanes, which was pretty unusual for the time. Early on this meant they were using dirt airstrips and 'airstrips', presumably just some grass that had airplanes landed on it until it got all smushed down. Eventually an airport was built to accommodate them, though.

São Paulo–Congonhas Airport (CGH/SBSP) is Brazil's second-busiest airport. It is known for its gorgeous terminal building and being one of the most dangerous airports in the world due to crowding and runways which become unnervingly slippery with even the slightest rain, which contributed directly to it being the site of Brazil's deadliest air disaster. It now has a very low cap on operations and no longer serves international destinations, but that might be VASP's single biggest contribution to history - an airport that caused a mass casualty event after VASP had already stopped flying. In its defense, landing at Congonhas was still probably nominally safer than putting a 737 down in an empty field, and tore up the landing gear less.

VASP was pretty dominant domestically for most of its history (while VARIG was essentially the only international airline), until it entered an incredible death spiral. The decline began in the 80s, in a way I would not describe as an incredible death spiral. That portion was initiated when VASP was privatized, attempted to expand into international destinations, gave up on that within a decade, stopped flying altogether and existed only to provide maintenance for other airlines, and then went bankrupt in 2008.

I prefer its livery to VARIG's, I think. I like that they didn't promptly shift the wordmark all the way forward like a lot of airlines did, and I like their shade of blue, but I sort of miss the old blue stripes. I mean, jetBlue could try that on for a tail? Still, always quite simple. It has one or two things I'd call 'features' in every iteration, but it never goes above a C- for me.

So, yeah. I would feel like I was omitting something if I didn't at least mention it, given it was a nationalized carrier and a huge chunk of Brazilian aviation history. I just feel like everyone forgot VASP the moment they went out of business, and that almost makes me sad.

Oh, well! There's other airlines.

Like VARIG! I feel like VARIG's older tramline blue livery was somehow pretty iconic despite being deeply, deeply generic. It does the layered, multicolor cheatline thing Lufthansa did but with blue-on-blue, which I actually quite like, and indeed this does feel a bit like a monocolor Lufthansa of the time period. I'm unsure if I actually think it's iconic because I'd be able to pick its old livery out of an identity parade or just because it was massive, but I'm going to just give it a C, I think, which would probably be higher if I were alive in the time period, but I don't believe I was. Let me know if you know anything I don't on the subject.

Their modern livery (designed in 1996 by the prolific Landor Associates) was also pretty alright. I like that weird little inexplicable divot, feels like it keeps me on my toes - not an airline I can rely on straight lines with! Nice legible wordmark, gold contrasting symbol (though I think they could have done something on the main body with it), it's all nice, it's all cromulent, C airline. This was designed at a point where full white fuselage wasn't done to death the way it is now, or I'd be harsher, but it feels a bit like beating up a corpse, given the rest of this post.

VARIG was Brazil's only real international airline for literal decades. It existed until 2005, other airlines gradually cropping up to chip away at its monopoly, until it finally went under and was restructured into two companies. One, the judicial successor known colloquially as "old VARIG", became the quickly-defunct FLEX Linhas Aéreas, which lasted all of another five years; the brand, meanwhile, was given to "new VARIG", which was purchased by GOL Linhas Aéreas Inteligentes.

GOL haven't been using the VARIG brand, which I generally think is the better move when it comes to acquiring old trademarks; better to build something new than attempt to resurrect something dead. Besides, they have their own brand, using the unusual color scheme of grey and orange and with a very memorable and simple logo (though it does look a bit like it says GOOL).

Judging by the reactions of a couple Brazilians I know in person who I told about this airline, the name is a love letter to Brazilian culture. Flag carrier material? Well, let's pause. How do they look? Are these planes a country can be proud of?

I like the loops a lot. While I prefer the scribbly feeling of the old GOL wordmark (the first two planes pictured) I think the new livery (immediately above) is an improvement in every other way, namely a somewhat clever solution to the Detached Tail Syndrome problem. I like how the wordmark is centered on the fuselage, and the fact that there are loop details on the winglets as well.

And, honestly, people underrate how hard it is to make a design like this look good consistently from different angles, but I think this does. I like it.

Do I wish there was more orange and grey and less white? Yes, but do I think it uses what little color it is very well and is more than the sum of its parts? Also yes. This could definitely improve a lot but it's very well thought out - just think even more outside the box and you'll get there.

B-. I like this, even though orange is my least favorite color and doesn't feel like it should go with grey at all. Good job, GOL.

Even though new VARIG wasn't the same company, surely it was part of VARIG, so this would make GOL its successor? That does make sense, hypothetically, but isn't how it shook out. For one, GOL is a low-cost carrier, which flag carriers usually aren't, particularly because LCCs tend to fly shorter point-to-point routes. (In 2019 GOL was Brazil's largest domestic airline with nearly 40% of the market share, and its third largest international airline, with nearly...four percent.)

The second, and I think potentially more damaging event, one which kept it in this mostly-domestic state, was a codeshare agreement with Portuguese flag carrier TAP Air Portugal falling through. TAP is a major international airline which flies basically everywhere within A330 range of Lisbon and which I constantly see as a codeshare option on flights to places that are definitely not actually in Portugal. GOL is the sort of airline I'd call...nominally international, in that it does fly to other countries, but those countries aren't particularly distant. They fly to other destinations in South America, a few in the Caribbean, and also Florida. It would be tricky to manage anything else given their all-737 fleet; they seem to have owned and operated 767s for just long enough to realize that this 'being a flag carrier' thing wasn't going to work out for them. TAP? They fly to South Africa, Venezuela, Norway, Guinea, Macau, Montreal - basically everywhere, including eleven destinations in Brazil. GOL flies to 17 countries in total. This was followed up with a failed attempt to join oneworld which also fell through for some reason or another, after which GOL said 'well, that's fine, we didn't want to be part of an alliance anyway' and then just went back to minding their own business domestically and making heaps of money, while the last vestiges of even new VARIG became thoroughly extinct to the point that I didn't know GOL technically had the trademark until maybe a month ago.

TAP did codeshare with a Brazilian carrier, though, one of the other three largest in the country.

If you feel something ominous building up, sense a certain presence...

No. Stop smirking, David. You won't be involved in TAP until 2015. At this point in the David Neeleman timeline he was still at jetBlue. Wait, does this make TAP jetBlue's step-sister?

To be totally honest I think by force of branding alone Azul Linhas Aéreas Brasileiras should get to be the flag carrier because clearly they want it and nobody else does, but they have the same issues GOL does and given David seems to have moved on I can't imagine that changing anytime soon. B+ for the Brazilian flag livery, by the way, that looks awesome.

No, this post is not going to become about David Neeleman, it's going to become about TAM Linhas Aéreas.

TAM originally stood for Táxi Aéreo Marília. The airline was later named TAM – Transportes Aéreos Regionais, and operated a subsidiary called Brasil Central Airlines. When restrictions on destinations for domestic carriers were lifted in the 90s this subsidiary rebranded to Transportes Aéreos Meridionais. You may notice that this means there are two TAMs, owned by the same holding company (only distinguishable by their differing IATA codes, KK and JJ - they even had the same livery).

They solved this issue by just becoming one carrier, TAM Transportes Aéreos (with the code JJ). They tried to buy VASP, didn't manage to buy VASP, and then sort of became the flag carrier anyway.

I hate TAM's livery because I like it but also hate it. They did the Lufthansa straight-tail back when that was a major innovation over Detached Tail Syndrome, I like the way the trim on the tail goes all the way over the top of the rudder and widens as it slopes down, I like the little bird on their wordmark a lot, and I love the red and white with just a hint of blue. This color scheme is just fantastic. My only criticism is that they stopped and forgot to do anything with the rest of the plane.

I mean, like, it looks okay, right? This looks fine?

Hmm, okay, flattering angle, still looks decent-

NO NO NO PUT IT BACK WHITE TUBE WHITE TUBE WHITE TUBE-

This livery looks so phenomenally back-heavy despite the huge wordmark. This is an A321. This isn't even a long-looking plane by any stretch of the imagination. I'm going to say it outright: this is why you paint your engine cowlings.

C, but the concept is good!

There's a lot to work with if you just commit to the bit! Given the timeline we're working with, TAM would actually probably be overhauling their livery sometime around now...you know, if they still existed.

TAM got the codeshare deal with TAP. TAM joined Star Alliance. After VARIG went under and GOL dropped the bag TAM became Brazil's de facto flag carrier. They were full-service, flew to Europe and North America, and they had the Brazilian flag on their planes, which were registered in Brazil. They became the largest airline in Brazil. Then the largest in Latin America.

Average state of Congonhas pre-2015, assumedly back when it was still allowed to land international flights.

They were also rated runner-up for least safe airline in the world by the Jet Airliner Crash Data Evaluation Centre in 2013.

...what a note to go out on, huh?

For a few years now, something has been building, far from the prying eyes of those watching the liveries of the planes taxiing by them. Soon the parasite inside TAM will burst out, and the largest country in South America will no longer have an airline of its own.

Something very big is about to happen. Something which casts a shadow over all of Latin American civil aviation.

#tarmac fashion week #grade: c #grade: b-#latin america #region: brazil #varig #vasp #gol linhas aéreas inteligentes #tam transportes aéreos #azul linhas aéreas #double sunrise #flag carriers #low cost carriers #questionnaire 1 #neelemanverse #special liveries #what is the flag carrier of brazil?

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