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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Until proven otherwise, my headcanon is that both Ironwood and Watts survived and are going to team up again out of necessity lmao.

HI, ANON. So let me tell you about how this simple, silly sentence sent me down a 4k writing rabbit hole. “Lol I’m going to write a little parody about that” I thought to myself and then somehow? It got serious?? I honestly don’t know what this fic is, but I’m chucking it at everyone anyway.

Also, I changed the whole “Atlas and Mantle are immediately submerged in water” plot point because it’s my coping mechanism and I get to choose the canon we ignore.

***

Once upon a time there were two villains having a Very Bad Day.

The first, Arthur Watts, had survived an explosion, being buried under rubble, and the threat of a ten-story drop only to find himself suffocating amidst a magically produced fire. A horrible way to go, all things considered. Painful, of course, but more importantly, no self-respecting man should die with soot on his clothes.

Or leave behind a charred corpse.

In fact, Watts had just begun to acknowledge the full indignity of his death when the momentum he'd felt — just there on the periphery of his awareness — suddenly ceased, Atlas crashing into Mantle and throwing him with a squawk in the process. His head took a nasty hit against one of the desks, the smoky gray of the room growing darker, and by the time Watts had come to, the fire had been replaced by water.

Ice-cold water, lapping up to his knees.

"Well," he said, lifting a sodden boot. "I suppose this is an improvement."

***

Elsewhere, James Ironwood — former General of the now sinking Kingdom of Atlas — was lying facedown on the stone of the outer vault, contemplating his choices. Upon reflection, no, he didn't regret what he'd done, but it would have been nice if things had turned out...any way other than this.

"Fuck," he said to the empty hall, enjoying the reverberation. He deserved that much at least.

In time, Ironwood was able to pick himself up off the floor, supported as much by the fact that he'd been knocked out by his own blast as his shaky, barely-there aura. Up the elevator running on emergency dust reserves, through the corridors that groaned ominously under damaged supports. Ironwood headed towards the military headquarters purely out of habit and as he did the sound of water grew stronger, almost like waves, until there was an inch of it across the floor, more trickling in from the staircase. Ironwood had been watching his boots splash with each step, almost mesmerized, and didn't look up until another pair unexpectedly entered his view.

Watts froze in the act of wringing out his pantleg, eyes wide. His expression, the water, how the hallway tilted downward at a slight angle... it all felt like something out of a dream. Ironwood just watched as Watts watched him, until his eyes traveled to the gun clipped on his belt. Ironwood hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.

"Here to kill me, James?" Watts said.

"No." He knew it was true as soon as he'd said it. The mere thought of starting another fight right now was... exhausting. "Do you intend to kill me?"

"Oh really. Does it look as if I'm in a position to fight you? Do use your head for once. I have no weapon, no aura — damn fire ate it all up — I feel as if I've swallowed a hot coal, I am wet — "

Ironwood turned partway through the ramble, meandering back up the way he'd come. He'd passed through two checkpoints before realizing that Watts was not only still talking, but following him.

"What do you want?" he asked, more to shut the man up than out of real curiosity. If Watts was capable of reading the difference between the two, he didn't show it.

"Cinder."

"Cinder?"

"I don't make a habit of allowing people to try and murder me without consequence, James!"

"She's gone."

"Yes, thank you for that stunning bit of info! There's no possible way I could have realized that for myself. What's gotten into you? They left us, fool. Salem, Cinder, Neo, Emerald, even your so-called allies... they all deserve the worst that we can grant them. Though right now, I'd settle for wringing that idiot Pietro's neck. Ten years I gave to that research and he rendered it obsolete with a single report, all because he wanted to play father to some stupid hunk of metal. I never would have gone to Salem if — " Watts cut off, hands balled into fists.

Ironwood just blinked dazedly, coming to a halt. He searched his uniform, the scroll he'd stashed there miraculously whole. Dimly, he registered that he should be feeling some sort of emotion right now.

"I can do that," he murmured.

"What?"

But Ironwood was already keying in the code, the desire to complete a task, any task, taking hold. Watts looked on, mouth twisted in a deprecating sneer.

"I already took out communications, in case you failed to notice."

"But not the trackers I had installed in my top scientists." Ironwood held up the screen where a small, red dot was blinking. "Pietro's still here. Looks like he's out near the mine with a second aura signature. If you want to...?" He wasn't going to finish that sentence.

"I see," Watts said in a tone that heavily implied he didn't. "And you'd just give me this information out of the evilness of your heart?"

Ironwood considered that. "I killed a man yesterday, tried to kill two others, and was ready to bomb all of Mantle to keep the rest of my Kingdom safe. I don't care what you do with the man who betrayed me."

"...fair enough."

Except after five steps Ironwood realized that Watts wasn't following him. He was looking down at his arms, still as a hunted hare.

"You put trackers in all your scientists?" he asked.

"A requirement I implemented after you went missing."

"Ah! Ingenious. Lead the way then."

***

The way led to the tundra, an environment that neither of them were prepared for. Watts was wet from the waist down and Ironwood had long ago learned that snow and metal didn't mix. Neither had the aura for the kind of storm that was raging either. Luckily, the panic of Salem's invasion had left plenty of vehicles to purloin and soon they were speeding East with the heat on, the faint beeping on Ironwood's scroll growing stronger.

He'd felt the impact of his city crashing down and the two of them had clamored out of Atlas' husk, dropping into rubble and cracking ice. Still, the true destruction wasn't evident until they were moving away from it. Through the rearview mirror, Ironwood could see pillars of smoke from fires that the water hadn't yet smothered, dark shadows that could only be grimm, and Atlas itself, plunged halfway into Mantle. It wasn't noticeable from this distance, but all of it was sinking.

"I was lucky," Ironwood said, his voice hollow. His eyes flicked back to the expanse of snow ahead of them. "If Atlas had tipped the other way, the vault would have flooded. I'd have drowned."

Watts snorted. "I'm lucky. That damned water put out Cinder's fire. I'd have burned."

Neither felt particularly lucky and for fifteen more minutes, neither was keen to discuss it.

***

Once upon a time, two heroes were having a Very Bad Day.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Maria paused in the act of bandaging Pietro's leg, mechanical eyes narrowing at the two figures that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Watts sucked in a breath at the duo. Ironwood gave a small, awkward wave.

Then he nodded his head at the scene: one old, exhausted woman and a paraplegic currently bleeding into his chair. "So... going to kill him?"

Watts ground his teeth. "Well now that just feels like a fool's errand. Look at him. He's pathetic!"

Pietro was slumped at an uncomfortable angle, sporting a gash in his leg and an impressive display of bruises across his face. Maria, in contrast, seemed to have only lost her hair tie.

"Pathetic?" she spat. "Your lackey did this!"

"Who?"

"Angry girl with the creepy arm."

"Ah, it all comes back to Cinder." Watts pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, thank you for recognizing that I was her superior, but no, I didn't send her to kill the likes of you. Must have done it on her own, the little idiot. Don't believe me? I was in jail at the time, if I recall correctly. Isn't that right, James?"

"You were helping me hack Penny."

Maria let out a skin-crawling cackle. "Why do you think the girl was here? She blew a hole in the bottom of Amity! Penny tried to hold us up, but..." she swallowed, still pressing against Pietro's leg, but turned warily towards them. "You hacked her? You did that? What precisely do you think happens when a man who never learned to apply aura as a shield crash-lands in this hunk of junk!"

"I expect most men in that position perish," Watts said smoothly. "The fool is lucky to be alive, but he won't be for much longer if you keep trying to staunch the wound with your soiled gloves. Move aside."

"Get away from me!"

"Oh, put your stick down, you old bat. I'm trying to help."

"Why?" Ironwood hadn't realized he'd spoken until Watts was glaring daggers his way.

"So I can kill him later myself!"

Still surreal. Still dream-like in its absurdity. Ironwood listened to the bickering between Watts and... Mary? Maria? He wasn't even sure. He wandered away, content to gaze out through one of the windows at his Kingdom. Or what was left of it. He idly massaged his left arm, trying to rid himself of a pain that wasn't there, and when the howl of a grimm reached them across the snow, he shivered.

His unlikely companions screamed at each other loud enough to reverberate through the whole building. There were the sounds of two bodies trading blows, but only for a moment. Pietro, voice groggy and high-pitched with terror, demanded to know where his daughter was.

"She's dead," Ironwood said. He didn't turn to see their expressions, didn't need to. "Winter she... she defeated me as the Winter Maiden. That can only mean one thing."

"One thing to you, perhaps." Ironwood did turn then, watching stoically as Pietro tried to right himself in his chair, Watts cursing as the leg continued to bleed. "Where is she? I want to see my little girl. I can heal her, fix her — " he broke off, doubling over with a cough that splattered more blood into his hands.

"Maybe you could have," Watts said, a cruel satisfaction in his voice. "If her little friends hadn't made her human."

Some of the pieces fell into place then. His Lamp, long missing, had apparently wound up in Neo's hands, then Salem's, before it was finally used by Cinder. Watts described — with immense pleasure — the plan the group had concocted and the wish they'd asked of Ambrosius. He'd been a bit preoccupied with bomb duty to learn the details, but he knew that Cinder lived and Ironwood, it seemed, knew that Penny had perished. What a tragedy. Do you know how to bring back the non-mechanical, Doctor?

Ironwood honestly thought the old woman was about to kill him, murderous intent put on hold only because Pietro collapsed then, curling in on himself as sobs wracked his frame. The only words that escaped the mess of tears were "Penny" and then "Maria," one hand reaching out blindly for comfort. Pietro found it, the two holding onto each other as Watts sat at their feet, grinning up at the display.

Ironwood thought only, So that is her name.

The other, crucial bit of info was that everyone was gone. Dead or evacuated, it didn't matter. As far as any of them knew, they were the last four in Atlas, with Salem on her way to destroy whatever kingdom next took her fancy. It was over. They'd lost. And despite the horror of it, the realization was oddly freeing too.

When Maria asked in a tone edging on hysteria what precisely they were going to do — because it seemed this was a "we" situation now — Ironwood suspected she meant in the short term. What were they going to do about their wounds? The grimm? Finding and reaching the others? But those were foolish concerns, the thinking of someone who'd never had a kingdom's life in their hands. Ironwood knew there was only one answer here, the same one he'd had from the start.

"You can do whatever you like," he said. The metal of Amity sparkled against the rising sun, leaving splotches of color behind his eyes. "I will defend Atlas."

Maria's mouth dropped open and Watts stared. Even Pietro ceased his crying long enough to suck in a breath.

"Defend it from what?" he asked.

Ironwood shrugged. "The grimm. Salem. I don't know. I don't care. To quote a former friend, I have never wavered in defending the Kingdom of Atlas against its enemies and I don't intend to start now. This is my city and I won't leave it."

"It's sinking!" Watts cried, overlapping with Maria's, "We need to help" and though so much softer, quieter, more innocent than the spittle Watts was scattering across the floor... that single word sank its teeth into Ironwood. The woman may as well have stabbed him.

"Help?" he said. "Help? I tried to help! Everything that I have done in the last two days — the last two years — my life! — has been to help not just Atlas, but everyone I feasible could. Don't talk to me about help when you and Ms. Rose did everything you could to stop me. I had planned to help the world and you all lied. You betrayed. You set your weapons against me and kept me from saving what parts of my Kingdom I could. Tell me again: what precisely did you do to help?"

He'd crossed the distance, one hand on his holstered gun and the other leaning against Pietro's chair, using it to leverage himself down into Maria's space. Ironwood didn't need to see her eyes to know the emotion they held.

"I," she spit, "didn't try to bomb a city."

And just like that the fight in him was gone. It had barely existed in the first place. Ironwood straightened, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet. "No. You didn't. So it's as I said, go help if you want. If you can." His gaze slid to Watts. "You were one of her men. That says it all." Pietro. "You helped them reveal Salem to the world. Will she have time to destroy the other kingdoms before the grimm do it first?" Maria. "And I don't know you, but you don't earn a prize like that without seeing combat." Ironwood lifted his metal finger, tapping it against Maria's goggles. She flinched away. "Can you honestly say you haven't made mistakes?"

"You and I are nothing alike!"

"I didn't say we were."

Ironwood turned and walked away, as steady as he could manage as the world grew a little darker, despite the sunrise. Behind him Watts' voice rang out like a shot.

"So that's it then? The captain goes down with his ship? You idiot!"

He paused. "Not quite. It turns out I'm not the only idiot around these parts. Ms. Rose left the vault open." One last turn to savor their shocked expressions. "That's where I'm going. There are still plenty of airships if you'd like to leave, but just remember: they abandoned you too."

Perhaps he should have been surprised that by the time his boots hit the snow, three more footsteps were sounding behind him. Frankly, in fourteen hours time Ironwood would barely remember their conversation, let alone everything that came after it. One of them drove back to the sinking city. Someone tested the ice before they cautiously crossed it. Someone else dispatched the stray grimm foolish enough to get in their way. Ironwood saw and heard none of it. He walked with the determination of a wind-up toy, wobbling now that he'd reached the end of his string. Cool blues, a shining gold, and then beautiful, miraculous grass. Ironwood ignored the murmurs of amazement behind him, dropping directly to his knees.

When his palms hit the ground, only one was capable of feeling how soft it was.

I need to update my arm, he thought, even as he curled into a ball and passed out.

***

When he woke they were already running out of time.

For the first two days Ironwood barely spoke to the others and thus he never quite figured out why they'd stayed. Had it been hopelessness? Spite? The all consuming thought that there was nowhere else to go? That Atlas, for all its rubble and slowly rising water, wasn't any different from what the rest of Remnant would look like soon?

Why not here then?

Especially when the vault, filled with wildflowers and an endless sun, made for such an enticing retreat.

"Soil's farmable," Maria said, running some of it through her fingers. It was a statement of fact, nothing more, and the three of them stubbornly ignored the implications of it.

"There's — " Pietro coughed, self-consciously clearing his throat. "There's plenty to salvage. Machinery to pull water from the humidity in here. First aid supplies. We could section off an area for our wa — "

Watts seethed. "If you finish that thought I will — "

"What?" Maria arched a brow. "Kill him? Like you've been saying for the last day?"

Day? Ironwood blinked. How long had he been out?

"I will!"

"Like you'd be able to. Just try it, beanpole."

They argued, and they threatened, but none raised their hands to one another again, and when they finally dispersed across the kingdom to collect what they could, none of the acknowledged what it was for.

Ironwood waded through the remnants of his home and didn't think about building another. Because the idea alone was absurd.

"Don't let the door slam shut," he'd said when they’d first left, nodding to the stone slab that had appeared after Penny had first arrived. Ironwood watched the three exchange glances, unsure if he was joking.

Fuck if he knew.

***

Those four days — or five, if Ironwood counted the one he'd lost — were conducted in a strange state of frenzy. None of them were in a position to be working on such a project, but when had the world ever cared for their needs? Pietro stayed behind in the vault, cataloguing what they'd found and making lists for what was still needed. His chair, while dynamic, wasn't meant for the sort of terrain Atlas had become and his wound was still healing.

He also seemed to appreciate the privacy, frequently mourning his daughter with an honesty that made them all uncomfortable.

Maria went off to do the Gods only knew what, disappearing for hours at a time, then coming back wet, cold, and carrying little. Though she always had information. Which parts of the city were too grimm invested to traverse, which were now completely underwater, which were too unstable as Atlas tilted like a ship, disappearing beneath the waves. It gave them all focus and, surprisingly, something like hope. Whatever else she carried was usually small, such as the seeds filched from the bio laboratories.

"Couldn't take them all," she said, critically surveying the land, "what with so many of the labels getting lost in the crash. Don't want to eat something your lot has experimented on."

"You should. If we're lucky you'll mutate into someone bearable." Watts, taking stock of the clothing they'd gathered, didn't seem to realize that Maria was flipping him off.

He went on a deep dives (sometimes literally) for salvageable tech, most of it of a practical nature, but other pieces... not. Nothing had shifted Ironwood's world view quiet like day two, walking in on Watts looming over Pietro, assuming there was another fight brewing... only to overhear them exchanging theories, the conversation filled with as many insults as legitimate claims. Still, the seeds of camaraderie were there, and were perhaps easier to grow than originally thought. After all, Watts had once been one of them and Pietro, for all his heroics, had once entered Ironwood's office with a manic gleam in his eye, rambling about giving an aura to a machine. Defense technology at its finest!

What was it Glynda had said? Ah yes, agreeing with young Ms. Nikos about how "wrong" it all was. But desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

They'd had that discussion, of course. Soon after Ironwood awoke, talk of Amity began again, this time about whether it was possible to send another message. With enough time and effort, not to mention luck... a short one, perhaps, and only sent to an individual scroll. But what was the point? Who would they call? When no one could — or would — answer that question, the idea was dropped.

In the days since, Ironwood had fantasized about messaging Glynda. One of the few who'd ever been a true friend, perhaps the only one left alive who might care that he was still among the living... if Ms. Rose's message hadn't killed that too. Not that it mattered. Even if Amity wasn't a hunk of metal gathering ice, Ironwood hadn't a clue what he might say to her.

Dear Glynda,

Thank you. Sorry. Good luck.

Sincerely,

General James Ironwood

P.S. If things had ended differently, I would have asked for a second dance.

How ridiculous.

So he walked the broken streets of Mantle and climbed the streets of Atlas, more and more of it disappearing every day. Their hoard grew though, born of not just military property, but personal belongings as well. It wasn't as if anyone was coming to claim them. Unless more magic was at work, both cities would be miles beneath the ice before anyone crossed the border again. Still, Ironwood would always pause before packing away what he found in the hastily abandoned houses. Bedding. Utensils. The literal shirt off someone's back. He'd changed into jeans and a thick sweater the second day, taken from a collection of civilian clothes he'd placed into a locker years ago and promptly forgot about. The uniform felt... obsolete now, no matter that his goals remained the same.

He'd encountered Maria on one of those trips, admiring a basket of yarn in some nameless Atlesian's living room. Her shoulders had tensed at his approach, but she just snorted at the sight of him.

"You knit?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.

"No."

"Crochet?"

"No."

Ironwood didn't know any other crafts that involved yarn. "Then why are you taking it?"

Maria hummed. "Just a thought. That I might, someday, try to learn." She shook a book she’d pulled from the basket: Knitting For Beginners.

A stray thought indeed. The thing they still didn't talk about. The closest they got was on the fifth night when an explosion sounded outside, massive enough to unsteady them even deep within the vault. By the time all four of them had made it out and onto one of the roofs, the sky had turned a sickly yellow, followed by black tendrils that raced, turning, back and around on each other until everything went dark. The only light came from what little electricity they had running on generators and a red aura, pulsing from the West.

From Vacuo.

Realistically, it might have meant that they'd won. It wasn't as if Ironwood had any idea what the death of an immortal witch looked like. But the night wore on and they had no idea because that unnatural, starless black never receded. In time, Pietro wandered off and returned with two bottles he'd pilfered from somewhere, cracking the tops off on the side of his chair and passing them around.

They still didn't say it aloud, though the sky and the alcohol said enough already. Ironwood kept his eyes on the watch his mother gave him, hours ticking by until sunrise was long overdue. Atlas felt even colder now and that red, seeming to inch closer, sent a different kind of chill down his spine. The grimm that still prowled below had taken off hours ago, summoned by some unheard call.

Ironwood downed the dregs of his bottle and threw it into the city.

"Come on," he said. Ordered maybe, or asked. He wasn't sure he knew the difference anymore.

Blankets. Glasses. As many non-perishables as they could find. Generators. Tool kits. The building blocks of renewable energy. Clothing. Decorations. Wood to build small, individual dwellings.

Watts hoarded laptops and a small mountain of batteries, never showing them what he was working on, intensely protective.

Maria grew obsessed with entertainment, snagging every book, game, and video until there was a veritable library piled on the grass. She kept muttering about deserving a real retirement.

Pietro built a shrine to Penny, a simple stone monument to the left of the doorway. He tended to organize their supplies there, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush the code he'd inscribed with a laser. Whatever meaning it held, Ironwood couldn't read it within the ones and zeros.

And he... he found a cat. His last day, picking his way across dwindling islands until his eyes found the small, electrical fire just out of the water's reach. The cat had wedged herself into the rubble above it, trying desperately to keep warm.

She was as black as the sky above them and Ironwood was sure, when he reached out, that she'd run, terrified of his prosthetic hands. They certainly weren't any warmer, but she weakly crawled into them nonetheless. Ironwood held her securely against his left side, where his heart and flesh were, and thought with an absurd, internal laugh that he'd at least saved one.

There was so much left to do still, but their time was gone. That evening, eating what little they had the stomach for, water began to pour from the vault's elevator. First a trickle, then a deluge, until there was a sizable waterfall to admire. Ironwood sat on the steps with his unnamed cat on his shoulder, watching inevitability creep towards him.

He could still lie though.

"There's still time," he said, addressing the three behind him. "If you head up the elevator shaft and down the west hall, you can still break the surface. Find one of the remaining airships. Fly away."

Watts scowled, avoiding his gaze. He remained leaning against the doorway though.

Maria and Pietro exchanged glances.

"I'd carry you," Ironwood offered to Pietro. They both knew it would be a death sentence with their combined deadweight, but he'd do it anyway.

"No," he said softly. "I did all I could already."

Maria. She was harder to read with those goggles, but it wasn't peace on her face. Guilt, more likely, but that had never stopped any of them before.

"It's damn cold out here," she muttered and marched back to the grass. Pietro followed her, Watts trailing not far behind. He turned back though.

"You coming?"

Ironwood didn't answer and eventually Watts left, heading into the meadow that stretched until you lost sight of where you'd been — and then reappeared there. A tiny pocket dimension, born of a magic now lost to this world. Ironwood figured that a bit of water and ice couldn't break it.

Probably.

He watched the flood cover the floor of the vault, then lap upwards, one stair at a time. There was a part of him, a part unimaginably tired, that thought he might just sit there. Keep rooted until the water was so high it was too late to do anything. That would be easy. Fitting, even. Shouldn't he go with his kingdom?

But then the cat — his cat — dug nails into his shoulder and Watts said something that made Maria screech. Ironwood sighed.

There were still things to protect, simple as that had become.

He turned his back on Remnant, now encased in an eternal night, and walked to the three who remained, cowering in an eternal day.

Ironwood allowed them one last choice and when they all nodded, he kicked the vault door shut.

#tw suicidal thoughts #rwby #fic things #rwby fic #Ironwood #Watts #Maria #Pietro #idk what this IS #post-apocalyptic RWBY I guess #with a side of questionable people not talking to each other #Anonymous

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lorei-writes · 3 years

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HC: Fear of Needles

Hey fun anecdote I got a vaccine today and freaked out a little before hand. needles freak me the freak out but like I am fine with tattoos it's just medical injections. I was wondering if its not too specific could you do a headcanon for masamune and shingen with a tattooed Mc that scared of medical needles.

After the shot I said "see that didn't even hurt what's wrong with you" and the nurse laughed, she was very sweet.

Hope your doing well

🧡

Premise: Tattooed Reader + Fear of Needles (medical context) Requested: Anonymous Characters: Masamune & Shingen

Masamune x Reader Shingen x Reader Fluff

Ahh, hello, anon! I’m really happy you got vaccinated, ah, yay! I mean, it’s awesome! I can’t wait to get my shot, but given how everything is, it’s most likely not going to happen before the end of the year :( Maybe even later, although it’s hard to say anything for sure.

And haha, I get unusual reactions, at least a little bit. I have to have my blood drawn for tests every couple of months and my veins are, well. Not co-operative to put it lightly. The last time I was jabbed in the hand and the nurse said it’s going to hurt “a lot”. So I braced myself and then it was the littlest prick and I was like “... It doesn’t hurt >:( *-*”

Content Warnings: needles, fear, anxiety, doctor’s office, hospital mention

Masamune

The first time you explained to him how modern tattooing works, he was impressed. It might have not been a too detailed of an introduction to the topic, yet no less, it was quite different from what his idea on the matter was.

That being said, he wasn’t expecting this to happen - much less after being shown videos of the entire process itself and being made aware that certain designs can take hours to complete. After all, if multiple pricks were nothing, so should be one, shouldn’t it?

As such, he was rather surprised when you asked him shyly to accompany you to the doctor’s office. He did not need to have anything done, and quite honestly, he could probably find a better task to do in the time - however, assuming that something could be at play, he did agree to go regardless. After all, not all things are easy to speak about, are they?

He held you hand the entire time, your state being rather clear from how your muscles tensed. Without realising it, you dug your nails into his palm, his thumb tracing soothing circles over the back of your hand - you were scared.

Not all fears are necessarily rooted in the reality of the issue, Masamune knew something about it. As such, he stayed calm, your grip loosening the moment the nurse withdrew the needle.

Having noticed the indents over his skin left behind by your nails, you began to feel mildly guilty. However, he laughed it off and ruffled your hair.

“Some kittens are afraid of water and you’re of needles, to each their own.”

Shingen

Oh, he tasted some of this medicine himself. He knew that hospitals, doctor offices and such may not exactly be the most pleasant places in the world.

Shingen was well versed in regards to human emotion and recognizing it. As such, it took him little to notice how uneasy you were. Sensing fear, he offered to accompany you to the appointment. He seemed to have assumed he’d be unable to reason with your anxieties. No words he could use could prove just enough, he reckoned, as the nature of your concerns was not rational. After all, you didn’t seem to otherwise react much to medical staff and routine doctor visits in general.

He adopted a certain strategy, aiming to distract you with jokes and flirting (of the cheesiest kind), even going as far as to risk parodying himself.

He did not enter the office with you, but he did hear you say “See, that didn’t even hurt, what’s wrong with you” and laugh.

He was somewhat surprised to learn that the reason for your state was nothing else but needles - or much rather, the shot you were given in your arm. However, he accepted it without a single question, his own hospital stay resurfacing in his memory. You did have tattoos, but the context was different, he thought - and no matter what the reason could be, and that’s given there was any to begin with, he loved you whole.

It seemed that the visit wasn’t too meaningful to him, the appointment not being brought up until late in the evening.

“There is nothing wrong with you for having fears and anxieties of your own. If anything, it is courageous to stand against those and do the right thing regardless.”

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, @silhouette-of-a-dream If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me. If you don’t want to be tagged anymore - please, do not feel bad about it, just say so :)

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #shingen takeda #ikesen shingen #ikemen sengoku shingen

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elderbloodlore · 4 years

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Calanthe was not a racist homicidal tyrant: a useless and bitter rant of someone whose favourite character ever got mercilessly butchered.

WHY ARE YOU WRITING THIS?

Well, let me give you a little bit of a backstory. I first read the Last Wish and the Sword of Destiny in 2012, when I was 14 years old. I instantly connected with the character of Calanthe, and after her death, it took me nearly a year to be able to pick up the saga itself. Ever since, she remained my favourite fictional character ever. As a little girl in misoginistic Poland, I was so lucky to have her as a role model. Because she fought for herself, she took no shit from anybody, she had love and respect of the people around her, and yet she had such tenderness and kindness about her that many strong woman-trope characters are missing these days, and that is exactly what happened to Calanthe when she was being translated to the screen. In 2015 The Wild Hunt was coming out and there were rumours of Ciri being included, so you can imagine my absolute glee and the hope I was filled with to have some more content with that one woman that meant so much to me growing up. And you can imagine my disappointment when all we got about her were a couple tiny mentions, even though the events of the Wild Hunt happen not even a decade after her death. Then the show by Netflix was announced and, once again, I had super high expectations. I wanted to see the wise, kind, beautiful Queen brought alive. December 2019 rolls in, and my hopes are being steamrolled. So here I am, 22 years old and crying over a fictional character, because one of the best written female characters ever (in my opinion) entered mainstream as a bullish, racist, homicidal tyrant. So let me address the biggest changes the show made to my beloved Calanthe Fiona Riannon, the Lioness of Cintra.

THE LOOKS

That was obviously the first thing that threw me off. I was quite enthusiastic when the cast was announced, but then as the first promo pictures were released, my enthusiasm was slowly dying down. In the books, Calanthe’s looks are adressed very often:

“As before, the queen wore emeralds matching the green of her dress and her eyes. As before, a thin gold crown encircled her ash-gray hair.” Sword of Destiny.

I tried to convince myself that Jodhi May won’t be a bad Calanthe so hard that I actually made this poor ass EDIT to feed my delusions and cheer myself up. In comparison, HERE is my personal favourite art of Calanthe that I find is the most accurate to the book portrayal.

Even when the first trailer dropped I was still trying to convince myself that even though she has none of her Elder Blood features or her iconic emerald green, that she wore exclusively in the books, she couldn’t be that bad. Right? Wrong.

THE DEMEANOR

This is probably the biggest change. Calanthe was one of the wisest, most gracefully-written characters in the entire saga, and I really hoped to see that on screen. She was quick-witted, calculating, but at the same time caring enough to let her daughter choose her own destiny in the end (even if it was to be with a hedgehog-headed man twice her age). Her smiles were said to always be full of kindness, she was acting very proper and clearly cared about her image. I’m not going to be getting too much into it with my own words, let these examples speak for me:

'Ah, Geralt,' said Calanthe, with a gesture forbidding a servant from refilling her goblet. 'I speak and you remain silent. We're at a feast. We all want to enjoy ourselves. Amuse me. I'm starting to miss your pertinent remarks and perceptive comments. I'd also be pleased to hear a compliment or two, homage or assurance of your obedience. In whichever order you choose.' [...] 'Hochebuz,' said Calante, looking at Geralt, 'my first battle. Although I fear rousing the indignation and contempt of such a proud witcher, I confess that we were fighting for money. Our enemy was burning villages which paid us levies and we, greedy for our tributes, challenged them on the field. A trivial reason, a trivial battle, a trivial three thousand corpses pecked to pieces by the crows. And look - instead of being ashamed I'm proud as a peacock that songs are sung about me. Even when sung to such awful music' Again she summoned her parody of a smile full of happiness and kindness, and answered the toast raised to her by lifting her own, empty, goblet. Geralt remained silent. The Last Wish.

'Aha,' said Calanthe quietly, clearly pleased. 'And what do you say, Geralt? The girl has taken after her mother. It's even a shame to waste her on that red-haired lout, Crach. The only hope is that the pup might grow into someone with Eist Tuirseach's class. It's the same blood, after all. Are you listening, Geralt? Cintra has to form an alliance with Skellige because the interest of the state demands it. My daughter has to marry the right person. Those are the results you must ensure me.' The Last Wish.

‘Very well then. As queen, I shall convene a council tomorrow. Cintra is not a tyranny. The council will decide whether a dead king's oath is to decide the fate of the successor to the throne. It will decide whether Pavetta and the throne of Cintra are to be given to a stranger, or to act according to the kingdom's interest.' The Last Wish.

'Pavetta!' Calanthe repeated. 'Answer. Do you choose to leave with this creature?' Pavetta raised her head. 'Yes.' The Force filling the hall echoed her, rumbling hollowly in the arches of the vault. No one, absolutely no one, made the slightest sound. Calanthe very slowly, collapsed into her throne. Her face was completely expressionless. The Last Wish.

Guards, armed with guisarmes and lances, ran in from the entrance. Calanthe, upright and threatening, with an authoritative, abrupt gesture indicated Urcheon to them. Pavetta started to shout, Eist Tuirseach to curse. Everyone jumped up, not quite knowing what to do. ‘Kill him!' shouted the queen. The Last Wish.

CINTRA, RACISM AND MURDERING HER OWN PEOPLE

In the books, Cintra was often mentioned to be obiding by the rules of the elves:

‘Dear child,’ said Vesemir gravely, 'don’t let yourself get carried away by your emotions. You were brought up differently, you’ve seen children being brought up in another way. Ciri comes from the south where girls and boys are brought up in the same way, like the elves. She was put on a pony when she was five and when she was eight she was already riding out hunting. She was taught to use a bow, javelin and sword. A bruise is nothing new to Ciri—’ Blood of Elves.

There were many elves and dwarves living peacefully within its borders. Calanthe’s two names - Fiona and Riannon, come from her ancestors that are respectively a quarter and a half elf, and known to be that. Calanthe was the one who taught Ciri that non-humans are not dangerous:

‘I’m not afraid at all!’ Ciri suddenly cried, assuming her little devil face for a moment. ‘And I’m not parrotised! So you’d better watch your step! Nothing can happen to me here. Be sure! I’m not afraid. My grandmamma says that dryads aren’t evil, and my grandmamma is the wisest woman in the world! My grandmamma… My grandmamma says there should be more forests like this one…’ Sword of Destiny.

There was no actual reason nor basis for the showrunners to make her racist and make her murder elves. Having her walk into her own daughter’s birthday party, bathed in elven blood, while she knows that the same blood flows in her own veins, at least partially, was completely unnecessary. Even in the polish version of the show from 2001 Calanthe said:

RELATIONSHIP WITH GERALT

This probably hits me the most on personal level, because I feel like Calanthe had a huge impact on Geralt’s growth as a character, and with such a drastic change to their relationship, I’m unsure as to he will now proceed to develop. Calanthe was, in large, one of the first people in the books that treated Geralt as anything more than a mutant. Here are some of my favourite scenes between the two, in comparison with how their relationship was portrayed in the show:

"At times, no, for years at a time, I deluded myself that you might forget. Or that for other reasons you might be prevented from coming. No, I didn't want anything unfortunate to happen to you, but I had to take into consideration the dangerous nature of your profession. It is said that death follows in your footsteps, Geralt of Rivia, but that you never look behind you. Then... when Pavetta... You know already?" "I know," Geralt said, inclining his head. "My sincere condolences..." "No," she interrupted, "it was all long ago. I no longer wear mourning clothes, as you see. I wore them for long enough.” Sword of Destiny.

He slowly pushed the cup on the table so that the clink of silver on malachite would not betray the uncontrollable trembling of his arm. "You don't deny it?" "No." She bent to seize his hand with vigor. "You disappoint me," she said, giggling prettily. "This isn't voluntary," he responded, laughing as well. "How did you guess, Calanthe?" "I did not guess." She did not release his hand. "I said it at random, that's all." They broke out in laughter. Sword of Destiny.

"I will not take it. It is too great a responsibility, one that I refuse to assume. I would not want for this child to speak about you the way... the way I..." "You hate this woman, Geralt?" "My mother? No, Calanthe. I doubt that she was given a choice... or perhaps she had no say? No, she had, you know, enough formulas and elixirs... Choice. There is a sacred and incontestable choice of every woman that must be respected. Emotions are of no importance here. She had the indisputable right to make such a choice. That's what she did. But I think about meeting her, the expression on her face then... it gives me a sort of perverse pleasure, if you understand what I mean." Sword of Destiny.

A rosebush grew next to the gazebo. Geralt plucked a flower, breaking its stem and then knelt, his head bowed, presenting the flower in his hands. "I regret that I did not meet you sooner, white-haired one," she said, accepting the offered rose. "Rise." He rose. "If you change your mind," she went on, sniffing the flower, "if you decide... Return to Cintra. I will wait for you. Your destiny will be waiting for you, as well. Perhaps not advitam aeternam, but for some time, no doubt." "Farewell, Calanthe." "Farewell, witcher. Look after yourself. I... I sometimes feel... in a strange way... that I am seeing you for the last time." "Farewell, my queen." Sword of Destiny.

FALL OF CINTRA AND CALANTHE’S DEATH

We were robbed of so many epic scenes that truly took away from Calanthe’s millitary accomplishments and showed none of the strength and determination she originally had:

"The Nilfgaardians dealt the first blow," he began after a moment of silence. "There were thousands. They met with the armies of Cintra in the Marnadal valley. The battle lasted all day: from dawn to dusk. Cintra's troops valiantly resisted before being decimated. The king died, and that's when the queen..." "Calanthe." "Yes. Seeing that her army had succumbed to panic and scattered, she gathered around herself and her standard any who could still fight and formed a line of defense that reached the river, next to the city. All the soldiers who were still able followed." "And Calanthe?" "With a handful of knights, she covered the troops' crossing and defended the rear. They say she fought like a man, plunging into the thick of the battle. She was impaled by pikes when she charged against the Nilfgaardian infantry. She was then evacuated to the city. What's in that flask, Geralt?" "Vodka. Want some?" "Well then, gladly." "Speak. Continue, Dandelion. Tell me everything." "The city wasn't properly defended. There was no headquarters. The defensive walls were empty. The rest of the knights and their families, the princes and the queen, barricaded themselves in the castle. The Nilfgaardians then took the castle after their sorcerers reduced the gate to cinders and burned down the walls. Only the tower, apparently protected by magic, resisted the spells of the Nilfgaardian sorcerers. Even so, the attackers penetrated inside four days later without making camp. The women had killed the children, the boys and girls, and fell upon their own swords or... What's is it, Geralt?" "Continue, Dandelion." "Or... like Calanthe... head first, from the battlement, the very top... It's said that she asked to be... but no-one would agree. So she climbed up to the crenelations and... jumped head first. They say they did horrible things to the corpse afterward. I don't want... What is it?” Sword of Destiny.

I understand that this happened because of limited screen time, probably, but the whole Fall of Cintra had been squeezed into what seemed to be a single day, a crushing defeat for Calanthe’s forces, and probably in some way, punishment for her pride.

AFTER CALANTHE’S DEATH

While reading the rest of the saga, these little snipits of people talking about Calanthe, mentioning her, often with respect and reverence, mentioning how her people mourned her and swore revange for her, truly kept me going through. I wished that, at the end, Ciri would find it in herself to return home and liberate it, as back then I had no way to spoil myself the ending. In the books, you can really feel the outrage almost all of Continent feels after the murder of Calanthe:

[...] Cintra is a symbol. Remember Sodden! If it were not for the massacre of that town and Calanthe's martyrdom, there would not have been such a victory then. The forces were equal — no one counted on our crushing them like that. But our armies threw themselves at their throats like wolves, like rabid dogs, to avenge the Lioness of Cintra. Blood of Elves.

[...] Bear in mind that these men left their homes and families, and fled to Sodden and Brugge, and to Temeria, because they wanted to fight for Cintra, for Calanthe’s blood. They wanted to liberate their country, to drive the invader from Cintra, so that Calanthe’s descendant would regain the throne. Baptism of Fire.

In the show, there is none of that. In fact, people seem to be full of disdain and hatred for her, saying things such as:

which, in turn, fills me with dread for the upcoming seasons, because I can already feel all the further butchery coming my beloved Queen’s way.

IN CONCLUSION

In all honestly, there is very little the Calanthe from the show has in common with the one from the books, the one I originally fell in love with. Which is not to say that Netflix’s Calanthe is not a great character in her own right, because who doesn’t love a badass sword-wielding Queen, but as a portrayal of the greatest ruler within the Witcher universe, and one of, in my opinion, best written female rules in literature, she falls flat, and that’s what pushed me to write this useless and slightly bitter rant, in hopes to maybe interest more people in the original version of Calanthe and maybe, just maybe, prompt some of you to read the saga or, at the very least, the short stories.

#Calanthe fiona riannon #queen calanthe #anti-netflix #rant #ask to tag

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themanicgalaxy · 3 years

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SPN 7X4 Defending Your Life

I'm making an exception today, because I've figured out QUITE a bit about my own stress response

oh right the monster Dean killed

also to recap: my period has every sign of starting(including cramps) but nothing, I've been horribly nauseous all day, I feel a hunger response when I'm DEFINITELY not hungry(stress eating and it's the only thing that makes the nausea subside) and headache(altho that could be the lack of sleep). Also emotions all over the place(Crying, happy, very on the hat etc)

and the WORST part is I can NEVER tell until I have physical reactions. I can NEVER TELL WHAT MY EMOTIONS ARE WHAT DOES THAT MEAN I THOUGHT I WAS PERFECTLY OK OR NOT FEELING ANYTHING

ooo chase scene

gHOST CAR

ooo good segway into intro

that cut coping mechanism does NOT seem like it's healthy

mONSTER OF THE WEEK

oh COME ON HERE's THE LYING

the visuals are cool

"license to kill"

no come on sam that was a good one.

"dead and sober, dead and crappy" no Dean, please, you need to figure that out

ah yes tortured soul

FL OW ER SH O P

that was suspicious

it's just because she's dead and dead at 10

the CAr

"makes you wonder if the guy who was drunk ran her over" *drinks beer*

O H H H H H HSIDOFAHPAS

GHOST RIDER

at least I know they're nerds, whoever wrote this

is it manifesting their guilty conscience

aw but the dog is so fluffy

*lies down, bounces back up again* lmaooo

Dean is Tired

didn't they DEAL With a ghost car?

it's people that kept going?

DEAN IS RUNNING ON SO MUCH EMPTY AHAHAHA

A H CUZ HE DIDN'T SLEEP BECAUSE THE GIRL HE KILLED

that took me as second

"If I ate apples" DEAN

also they're really doing license plate shots above how Cool the Impala is shots now, lil thing

"you won't even believe me" ahaha

...courtroom?

fUCKING NEAL'S TAVERNNNN

we kind of specialize in crazy ahaaha

"except that's complete crap"

"everyone judges all day long"

He just..takes punishment?

ahahah N O P E GREY AREA

no this is way more watchable

SA M SOUNDS SO TIRED AHAHA

*whispers* "stay put"

he DOES look good though

ok fine just gonna tune out the flirting

they ARE both pretty

is it that guy

the creepy guy in the shadows

how much is in scotch I have no idea

ah the red, what people were clawing

THAT'S NOT HOW OSIRIS WORKS but fine ok let's go

THAT'S NOT

ok fine

"it hones in on people who feel guilty, N OW WHO DOES THAT SOUND LIKE TO YOU" oh boy literally both of them got it that was hilarious

this does seem like he's talking himself into a role

the salt...might not work for osiris

shit she really is pretty

AH RED SAND ok ok yeah I see it ok

a h egyptian shit

ALL YOU NOTICED WERE THE SYMBOLS LMAOOO

THAT DOOR SLIDE WAS SO FUNNY

He's cool though, I like the pagan shit

"Sam, you're not a lawyer" "yes I was pre law" "pre"

"good one" "I saw that on the good wife"

THIS IS HILARIOUS

J O

oh no

the mining itself sucks but this concept is good

took his breathing away?

It reads a bit as excusing them for everything

She backs them up at least?

I miss her

see here's the thing, it kinda reads like they're out of ideas, but like...it's a good concept

ah so the stuff at the beginning was them showing their guilt

I like how he just says "them's the breaks"

yeah like Dean is ever gonna believe he's innocent

"dog food" oh they so desperately wanna say dog shit

"they want to be judged" echoes Dean

SAM IS TALKING COMPLETELY OUT OF HIS ASS

HE'S GETTING HIM OUT OF HIS GUILT COMPLEX OH THANK GOD FINALLY

"that it just...blows"

no one, including Dean, ever questions it, so the grief stews

he does actually have some way with words

Dean please tell the truth

mate I get the impulse but still

dammit

ahaha Temporary but Long Temporary

"make sure it's a sharp piece" lmaoo

man I miss Jo

ah here we go

sam: u h

JOOOO

"you deserve better" on both ends

Dean Eldest Daughter Syndrome

"hunters are never kids, I never was"

he does Internalize things

that's why we kin

90% crap

"i get rid of that what then" "you really wanna die not knowing" HOLY SHIT

HOLYSHIT OH MY GOD OH MYGOD

ah the gas stove

"he's making me do this" oH NO

"just kind of faded...maybe a little bit happier"

hell was Sam's slate? huh

"I kind of feel good, Dean" I am glad he's happy, I don't know if I agree with the message

1. SAMMM. Dean was acting off the shits, so he had to step up and exasperatedly handle everything, and piece stuff together. Like mans is actually quite smart and quite resourceful when he has to be, and it's nice seeing that. It's also fun FINALLY seeing him lighthearted again, even if I don't like how.

2. Dean's guilt complex. Man internalizes a lot of things, and while they BARELY make sense(thin veneer, easily cracked) he hides it enough so that no one asks(and he represses so he certainly doesn't), and he can continue feeling guilty. Now here's the thing. He feels guilty, Sam doesn't, the middle ground is where they should be(taking responsibility) and they like...never do it.

3. monster of the week. No but having monsters switch to grey instead of black and white, and having Dean comment on it is SO good, because he's like...that Masculine Parody/Ideal depending on who's writing him, and like he was written to be the hero. any gray was always overridden by that. But with kripke gone, they start actually doing grey, and there's nothing simple anymore. Like I like with how off the shits it got, they still kept the theme of "it's more grey now" but like kinda for real(where Dean and Osiris said the same thing). ALSO, I think it would be useful as a scale back. I know they'll not do it because EVEN BIGGER DBZ LAZER is fun, but I think having more monsters of the week by choice and not "oh god we have runtime" would be really good, because that's where this storyline SHINES! it's got a lot of characters, a lot of lore, and a lot of issues to pick through, a monster of the week is WAY more effective than a longer story, and would help the scaling back issue.

4. pontificating about the season/why it's easier to watch. Like is this season as good/vibey? probably not really, but honestly I can actually stand watching it. Like it's very cringe in places but also, it doesn't hurt me or make me feel uncomfortable as kripke stuff does. It matches the vibe of "after work/school show" perfectly for what it is.

5. the vibes/Osiris. I like the idea of osiris and going to the bars, and the courtroom and the RED! SAND!! I got that one. But I'd also like to say that Dean saying the SAME thing that osiris said was like...he's not villainized, but I think they're trying to make him slowly grow as a character. It's like sympathy/he sucks kinda/we like him for him a sa character and I think that was really neat.

also barkeep lady pretty holy hell

6. it felt a little bit like excusing tho. Like if Sam is the good one, then it felt like excusing them of the harm they cause people. I want them to change their behavior! not beat themselves up over it or think it's fine cuz he went to hell because of it!

I'm so glad Sam is happy again but N O

7. J O. the "no autonomy, he's making me do this," the being able to see through things(and no longer hungering for something that she doesn't really know) (like...she wants SOMETHING, has it crawling under her skin but doesn't know what, and that's gone when she's dead) and that whole thing where she asked Dean if he wanted to die as a persona. Oh my god.

8. Dean persona. Yeah the whole thing where he had to convince himself to be a womanizer, the "I"m 90% crap line" OH MY GODD THAT HIT. That man is also a persona. maybe a commentary on american masculinity in general, maybe not. Also, eldest daughter syndrome, he internalizes everything and everything is his responsibility("I didn't get a childhood")

I feel like you can also make an argument how trauma makes you the extreme of something(uncaring for smol sam, internalizing for Eldest Dean), and it breaks your ability to do what you need to(empathetically do your fucking job and not be pieces of shit).

I see why this show was so popular amongst mentally ill people(myself included) holy christ

#pawswatchesspn #7X4 Defending Your Life #tbh once I realized that Dean was tired because he'd gone out and secretly killed someone #I knew that someone was actually paying attention behind the scenes #I can't wait to watch this one again holy FIUCK IT WAS GOOD #I feel much better #also I have found out that Adam Glass's later episodes were Not Great #but based on the Dean they're going for now #This makes sense in context and while I don't like the message there are parts of this episode I really like #some of those fucking lines GOT me

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letswritefanfiction · 4 years

Text

New Pokémon oneshot series! Mistakes Were Made.

A series of disconnected oneshots that poke fun at the fandom hivemind, canon, and past!me. I’m taking things that I’ve either observed or done myself and reframing them in parody where hopefully we can just all have some low stakes fun and, at best, maybe learn something about our favorite characters and writing.

Chapter One- Addiction: Redux

Summary: Once upon a time, an enterprising, young fanfiction authoress wrote the first chapter for her years-long alphabet challenge, and it sucked. Six years later, she makes a whole story devoted to making fun of it.

"Ash, Ash, Ash!"

Ash felt a tingle go up—or down?—his spine at the sound of his name. But not the good kind. He currently had a packaged cookie in his mouth and was reaching for a second one, but knew that wasn't why his name was being called. No, Misty's voice was farther away, there was no way she was in sight of the kitchen, watching him pilfer her snack cookies from the cabinet.

Pikachu filled him a glass of water so that he could swallow the evidence as soon as possible and then he walked towards where the sound had come from.

Misty's office.

That's where the dread came in.

If he'd heard her exclaim his name like that from somewhere else in the Gym, he might have thought it was Pokémon-related and he probably would have been too excited to remember to cover his tracks with the cookies. But in the time he'd spent in the Misty's Gym since becoming a couple, he knew that only bad things lay behind those doors.

Usually those bad things were nothing more malignant than paperwork and maybe an overworked, slightly cross-eyed Misty. Nothing he wasn't used to. But excitement…that probably meant that she wasn't working. Exciting paperwork could in theory be something like a grant, but he probably would have heard about that. And would probably remember it. Maybe. But since he didn't, he had to assume it was something much more sinister.

She'd found something on the Internet.

"Do I have to, Pikachu?" he whispered as he approached the door.

"Pika chu," Pikachu nodded, pushing his Trainer forward and then making a run for it. Coward.

"Hey, Mist," Ash said with false cheer as he came into the dark room. The sun had set maybe an hour or two ago—Ash didn't pay attention to those things well when he wasn't on the road—and Misty had yet to turn any lamps on. But her face was heavily illuminated with the cold, blue glow of her computer monitor, which she was staring unblinkingly at.

"Hey, babe," she said, always more comfortable with the pet names than he was. He'd get there someday. Maybe. She was just 'Misty' in his head! He couldn't help it. "Check this out."

Her voice was slightly maniacal as she pointed to the screen full of words in front of her. Gee, Ash's favorite. He rolled his eyes. He had a sinking feeling what this was about.

"Look at this terrible fanfiction!"

"Is it about you and me?" he deadpanned.

"Yes, and it's terrible! I mean, I'm pretty cute in it, but you're so OOC I can't help but cackle."

And cackle she did. Then, she began to read it out loud:

"Misty was nothing if not true to her word," she began, her voice taking on the lilt of a storyteller's. "I am that. Have I ever lied to you?"

"Probably wouldn't date you if you had," Ash said, wanting this experience to be over as soon as possible. He didn't have an especially good relationship with reading in the first place, but reading about himself…ew, there was just something icky about it. Especially since Misty had shown him…certain stories.

Misty continued. "Today, Ash found himself sitting in an uncomfortable plastic seat, the kind that he hadn't had to deal with since grade school. This one was missing the foot off of one of the corners, so Ash spent his time rocking from side to side—okay, that part is like you," Misty said, interrupting the story. "You've definitely done that before. So let's skip to the bad stuff. Long story short, you're in an AA meeting—"

"What?" Ash exclaimed. "Why would—okay, you're right. That doesn't sound like me at all."

"No you're not addicted to alcohol," Misty explained. "Just…Just wait for it. Ah, let's skip to here. 'Hello, my name is Ash,' Ash mumbled into his shirt as he avoided eye contact with all others in the room.

Ash—the real Ash, not story-Ash—rolled his eyes. Not at the story, surprisingly, but at Misty. She had taken to reading lines that he—or, rather, the fictional version of him—had in something of a stage whisper. She was making fun of his raspy voice just because she could.

"Resounding back to him was a dull chorus of, 'Hi, Ash.' His mouth was dry. As much as he loved being the center of attention—hah, now that part's right!" Misty interjected. "Oh, and this next part is good: Ash had never been good at the public speaking. He usually ended up saying something dumb that Misty would then make fun of him for later. So he said the only thing that he could think to say: "And I'm addicted to Pokémon Battling."

"What‽" Ash exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the desk as he got closer behind Misty to see the screen for himself. "What does that even mean? How can someone be addicted to Pokémon Battles? This is the stupidest—"

"Shh, that's explained. That's what I'm getting to. Listen:" Misty said, skipping down a bit further. "'Aw, Mist, it's not like you really believe that an addiction to Battling is a real thing, do you?' Misty turned sharply to look at him. "Ash, you battled to the point where Pikachu could hardly breathe! We had to spend the whole day in the Pokémon Center, remember? Clearly you have a problem, and I couldn't think of any other solution besides peer pressure to get you to shape up.'"

"Nope," Ash said immediately. "Nope, nope, nope. I would never do that in a million years."

"I know!" Misty explained, laughing as she stared in disbelief at the words on the screen. "You'd more likely run on the field and land yourself in the hospital."

"I have."

"I know."

Ash frowned as he read the words over again. They made him angry to read. Mostly because the idea of any Trainer doing that to a Pokémon incensed him, but it was more than that. "I can't believe someone out there thinks I would do that."

"Oh, Ash," Misty said, finally swiveling around to look at him. "This person doesn't know you. They just think they do, for some strange reason. Or maybe they knew this wasn't what you're like and wrote it anyway. There are stories like that too."

That didn't make him feel better. Suddenly Ash wanted to run and find Pikachu again, just to hold him. He wanted to hold Pikachu's warm, healthy body, stroke his bright, shiny fur, and feel his full, but muscular belly just to be reminded of the partnership that he had. He was nothing like that…stranger being depicted on the screen.

"I'm sorry if this story upset you, Ash," Misty said, turning the monitor off. "I just find it funny when people get it so wrong. Other than that, the story isn't too terrible. I mean, the writing itself is fine—it just has a crappy core premise. It's even a little funny, though. In the end, I get your mother's cookie recipe just so I can train you with them."

Ash stiffened a little bit. Cookies? Maybe that writer knew more than they seemed to…

"Gosh, it's pitch black in here isn't it? One sec…"

Misty turned on her desk lamp before swiveling in her chair back to Ash. As soon as she saw him, her eyes widened and she pointed to his face. Specifically to his lips.

"Cookie thief!"

By reflex, Ash licked his lips, and found the slightest taste of chocolate at the corner of his mouth. Why hadn't Pikachu told him? And…had he ever put the package of cookies away?

Well. The one thing this author didn't know—in addition to not knowing anything about how Ash battled, apparently—was that he wasn't the true cookie fiend. The true cookie fiend in the Cerulean Gym that day was not him or Misty, but a little electric rodent, who had been left alone for quite a while now.

"Misty," Ash said, his tone just desperate enough to draw her eyes up to his. "We've gotta go!"

Moral: Everyone writes some bad stories. In case you missed it, all those excerpts up there do come from a real story existing on this site. Written by me. This is the first chapter from my Alphabet Challenge, "Addiction." No, not even I am cruel enough to pick some rando's story off this site and make fun of it so heartlessly. No, luckily I've written enough poop myself that I was able to use my past mistakes to illustrate something.

Exception: None. Everyone writes some bad stuff.

Second Moral: Ash would never abuse his Pokémon. I mean, yes, his Pokémon have ended up in dangerous condition before, but always super by accident. In this story, Misty lets us know that it's Ash's fault and it's a habit and that just isn't our sweet baby boy. Ash would never hurt his Pokémon.

Exception: Again, none? Unless there's some real defendable ignorance—it is Ash, after all—then, I repeat: Ash would never hurt his Pokémon.

#pokemon #pokeshipping #oneshot #pokemon fanfiction #pokeani #anipoke #oneshot series #ash ketchum #ash and misty #aaml #misty #pikachu #ash x misty #misty and ash #misty x ash

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iatasbcl · 5 years

Note

Howdy! Can I have an imagine for Connor and a gender neutral reader where the reader is best friends with Gavin but has a crush on Connor [RK800]? Could you put a bit of fluff in too? You can change it up if you want, that's cool. Thank you for considering.

The One Where You Confess

Pairing: Connor X Reader, Gavin Reed & Reader

Warnings: Insecurities, a lot of swearing, nothing else just badly written fluff lmao I’m sorry

A/N: Hi! I’m so sorry for not finishing this one way sooner ): It’s just that Uni started so I’m a bit busy! But yeah, thank you for requesting this love, hope ya enjoy it

W.C: 1.9k

“Gavin, if I hear anything else about Shrek in the next five minutes, I swear to god I will throw you into the trash then sit you on fire myself.” You said, holding your index up in the man’s face.

“Alright.” Your brows furrowed at how easily the detective was convinced, especially after hearing him quote Shrek for hours and hours since your marathon last night. You watched him as he went back to his desk and got out his phone. You supposed you could finally do some actual work, but your phone binged just as you reached for the terminal.

Hey watch this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaUR7h4WunY

You looked back to Gavin, what could he have possibly sent you now? he didn’t look your way and just stared into his computer. Your thumb hovered over the link before finally clicking it.

You knew what this thing was. This awful, terrible, shitty video from 2014 that still haunted you was enough to fuel your nightmares again just by hearing the narrator’s voice. You don’t bother finishing it, the flashbacks were enough.

You slammed your hands on the table and got up. Gavin was laughing now, like the complete idiot that he was. “Gavin, you stupid fucking- “

You were ready to throw hands when you heard him, the man with the beautiful yet goofy voice that you liked so much. “Are you alright, detective?” You turned and saw him standing behind you with two cups of coffee. He wore a casual jacket now and a pair of jeans and you swore that he still looked like a supermodel.

“Hey Connor, I’m good.” You said and side-eyed the Gavin, you would deal with him later. When you looked back Connor had walked towards you with a cup handed out. You stared at it for a second then looked up at the android.

“I brought you a cup of your preferred coffee. You seem to function better with it.”

Gavin laughed and you felt your cheeks heating up. What was that supposed to mean?

“Thanks…?” You reached for the cup and took it slowly, Connor’s LED turned yellow. “What’s on your mind?” the question was said as you walked back to your desk, you sat down and opened the lid covering the cup and took a sip; it was warm and tasted just the way you liked. You didn’t remember telling Connor how you liked your coffee.

You knew of the android’s cute habit. He still followed others around like an adorable puppy. He stood next to your desk and said, “You seemed hesitant to accept my token of appreciation.” It seemed like an interestingly worded question.

“Oh. No, no. I appreciate it! I just- “ just as you were going to make up an excuse for yourself, Fowler shouted your name from his office. You gave the man an apologetic look and went to see what your boss wanted from you.

“that tincan, really?”

You knew telling Gavin about your crush wouldn’t garner you the best reaction. The man, despite being a good friend, was a walking and breathing fiery mess. He disliked androids and didn’t even start tolerating them until he got his own android partner, an RK900. He still hated Connor with the burning anger of Gordan Ramsey himself.

“Look, I don’t want to hear you bitchin’, okay? I just need your help here, not your hot take on androids, especially him.” He raised his hands in defense.

“Woah, Woah, chill.” You sighed, “I won’t talk shit about your little crush, but,” You held your finger up in his face, “No buts. I’m awkward and desperately in love. Just… help.”

Gavin looked at you for a bit, you put on your best puppy eyes for him. It wasn’t like Gavin had a never-ending string of lovers, nope, not the case at all. You couldn’t talk about this to Hank, he was a friend of yours, but this would make things awkward between you, probably. Tina was still recovering in the hospital after her injury. Talking to RK900 also knows as Nines, would be useless since the poor guy’s social skills were worse than yours.

“Ugh, fine. Let’s go get lunch and I’ll tell you what ya gotta do.”

“Ok… so you’re telling me to pretend to be some bimbo?”

“Nah, I was just messing with ya.” He said, stuffing his mouth with another dozen of fries, “You shuff’ juff be yourselph- ” Your face twisted in disgust and you smacked his arm lightly, “finish eating first you despicable egg.” He shut his mouth.

“As I was saying, you gotta be yourself.” You rolled your eyes, “Ugh, please. Nobody likes that.” Gavin shook his head. “The hell are you talking about? You’re great, and if that plastic prick can’t see it then-“

“Gav, please. You’ve been there every time I got dumped… it’s always been my fault.” You looked down at your plate.

“Hey, both of us know that ain’t the truth. Your dump exes just wanted to blame you for how things ended because that shit’s easier. Remember Meg? That chick was a control freak and didn’t like it when you didn’t want any of her bullshit.” Megan. You remembered the last day you saw her, how she screamed and screamed at you for being ‘an ungrateful cruel person’. Yikes.

“Look, you are an odd goofball.” “gee- thanks,” “But you are a good goofball, the kind you wanna keep around forever. So, if you wanna get that prick then go for it, ask him out. If he’s not into you then you’ll be saving your time. And if things go really south…” the previous words warmed your heart.

“What?” you ask, curious. “Remember how we used to go to Disneyland every year since the academy?” you nodded; those trips were some of the memories that you still cherished. You two couldn’t go in the last year because your bank accounts weren’t looking great.

“Well I’ve saved some money, so I’ma take you there. How does that sound?”

You squealed, “Are you the real Gavin Reed? What did ya do with him?” you asked playfully, “Hey! I’m always nice.” “Right.”

You looked at your watch and got up, “C’mon, we gotta go.” You waited for him to walk past you and you smacked his head, it was more of a rough tap really. He winced, punching your arm.

“What was that for?!”

“Never send me Shrek memes. Ever.”

Tonight was supposed to be the night. You were going to ask the cute, adorable, handsome android out. Everyone went to the bar after work, wanting to celebrate closing an important red ice case, it would’ve been the perfect opportunity for you to ‘declare your love’, hell, you practiced your speech. It was supposed to be perfect.

Instead, here you were, stuck in a nearly empty office when everyone was out having fun. You just had to procrastinate some of your reports, didn’t you?

You sighed, whatever. This might be the universe’s way of telling you to abort your mission, to not ruin your precious friendship with Connor. You wanted to believe that, but god, you loved him.

You loved every part of him; his adorably weird social antics, his gorgeous smile whenever he would see you, his kind personality, the tiny freckles adorning his soft face, just, him.

“Detective.”

You yelped when you finally snapped out of your little bubble only to see the man of your dreams Infront of you. Was it whatever it was that rested in the skies up above that wanted you to constantly wish to have the ground beneath you split open and swallow you whole? Probably.

“C-Connor, hey.”

“I apologize for frightening you.” You waved your hand, “No, it’s fine really.” You let out that awkward laugh that you hated so much. Connor’s LED turned yellow, shit, did he notice you being weird?

“Um, I thought you went with Hank?”

“I came back. I would like to assist you if that’s okay.” You blinked, “You don’t have to do-“

“I want to. I don’t like seeing you stressed.” Your heart skipped a beat, something about the way he said it made you feel like a teenager who just discovered what love is. “Alright, be my guest.”

Damn, you forgot how good androids were at basically everything. Connor took half of the workload despite your protests. You were still halfway through your share when he finished his. You spent the rest of the time talking about whatever came to mind, turning the atmosphere of the room into a comfortable one.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“Does my presence bother you?”

The comfort you felt was immediately thrown out of the window. You stopped typing and looked at the desk across you, where he sat. You saw something new, an expression that Connor usually didn’t show, hurt. His eyebrows were brought together, his lips pursed, and his eyes got a bit intense. Too intense.

You scratched your neck and looked back to your terminal. “What would give you that idea?”

You could see him tilt his head from the corner of your vision. “Well, you seem to fidget and become increasingly anxious whenever I come near you,”

“You also seem far more comfortable with Detective Reed, Nines and Hank. I am sorry if did something wrong, but I would appreciate it if you told me what it was.”

“Connor-” You stopped yourself, what were you supposed to say? Sorry, I just really like you and I don’t know how to deal with it? I’m scared I will mess everything up?

He stared at you and you looked anywhere but at him. Ugh, fuck it, you were gonna wing it, by being yourself. All the preparation you had gone down the gutter.

“I, uh, the reason I get nervous around you is that, well- I like your face, no wait not just that I’m not that superficial. Not that it isn’t great, your face is gorgeous. Ah shit. I- Ireallylikeallofyou.”

Connor blinked, the ring on his temple turned yellow, again. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The following silence was too much, you’d rather be watching weird Shrek parodies. You stared at Connor, waiting for an answer, for anything really. He didn’t say a word. Time to back up.

“Okay, sorry, shit, you can forget I said anything- “

“No, ____.” You paused; you weren’t used to him calling you by your first name. “I also, uh- “

You didn’t think melting was something your body was capable of, but that was how you felt. This cool, calculated android just stuttered. You almost giggled, but luckily held back.

“I also like you. I was trying to bond with you as several sites suggested, but it seemed to backfire.” You chuckled. “No, I am sorry I acted like a high schooler,”

“Your nervousness was justified. Please don’t was be hard on yourself.”

You smiled; it was a rather bittersweet one. His hand was on the desk, you moved yours and put it on his slowly. Connor froze for a moment but regained his composure after, he gently massaged your hand with his thumb. It wasn’t your first time touching an android but the artificial skin still had that unique feeling to it.

“So, do you want to go out next Thursday?”

“Yes, that would be preferable.”

It felt like a dream, the man you liked felt the same. You were so ready for rejection that you didn’t know what to do now. A yawn escaped you, it had gotten pretty late. You finished the last of your work and shut off the computer. An idea came to your mind.

“There is this sweet spot around the block, do you want me to show it to you?”

Connor immediately nodded, “Alright, wait I gotta send something.”

I DID IT DUDE

#this is so cliche i wanna die #also that vid? cursed dont open it #platonic gavin reed x reader #platonic gavin reed #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh #dbh imagine #i need to sleep #bye

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osakaso5 · 4 years

Photo

Mitsuki Izumi Twelve Hits! Rabbit Chat Part 3: Request Hits 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5

Mitsuki: Sorry for making you all wait! I'm fine now!

Tsumugi: Now that everyone has returned, let's resume the questions. There's still some left to go!

Tsumugi: Mitsuki-san, it's your turn!

Mitsuki: My request for myself is to read one extra bit of mail from the listeners!

Tsumugi: Mail?

Mitsuki: I can't do anything about the fact that there's too many messages for me to read, but I wanted to read at least one more than I normally would. I'm sure all the people who send mail put a lot of effort into it.

Tenn: You care just as much for your fans, then.

Mitsuki: They're basically like a treasure to me!

Mitsuki: But I guess I also wanna introduce them to everyone, so they can listen to the kind of mail I get!

Tenn: Your fans must like that, too. Knowing that the things they send make you so happy.

Tsumugi: Kujo-san's right! Thank you for a lovely request.

Tsumugi: Yamato-san, you're next!

Yamato: Tell us about your shady past.

Yamato: How's that?

Mitsuki: Uh... My shady past~!?

Mitsuki: I bet you typed that out with the smuggest look on your face, lol

Yamato: You've got the image of this cheerful and energetic guy, don't you have anything that could change that? (lol)

Iori: Wait. That's enough.

Iori: Our agency can't allow that, right, manager?

Tsumugi: Huh!?

Iori: Nii-san has no shady past, and we're not going to do anything that would mess up his image.

Yamato: Wait, how would you know?

Iori: I don't, either. Since I'm a perfect high schooler.

Tamaki: Huh? You don't? I bet you totally do, though

Iori: Quiet.

Yamato: Don't you wanna find out, Ichi?

Mitsuki: Hey, Iori. Why are you taking so long to reply to this one? lol

Iori: I-I'm sorry, Nii-san.

Tsumugi: As far as our agency goes, I suppose it would depend on what exactly his "shady past" entails! We should discuss this later, Yamato-san and Mitsuki-san!

Tsumugi: Yaotome-san, it's time for your request!

Gaku: Oh, my turn. I guess mine would be to give a message to yourself in 10 years.

Mitsuki: Aaaagh, that one sounds super embarrassing, lololol

Gaku: Why? Don't you have stuff you wanna do or be? Might as well let it all out for this show.

Gaku: I don't care if it's serious or not.

Mitsuki: Stuff I wanna do or be... Yeah, of course I have something like that!

Mitsuki: But it's embarrassing!

Mitsuki: First you ask me about my past, and now it's my future. Though at least you're not asking me to talk about anything shady, lololol

Yamato: Your shady past could involve something really moving, couldn't it?

Gaku: Like what? (lol)

Tsumugi: You're both very eager to know more about Mitsuki-san!

Mitsuki: I don't think I'll be any different by then!

Mitsuki: But I guess I'll think of something. Thanks, Yaotome! And you too, geezer!

Gaku: Yeah. You're welcome.

Yamato: No problem.

Tsumugi: That was a heartwarming request! Thank you, Yaotome-san!

Tsumugi: Tsunashi-san, are you ready?

Ryunosuke: I want some fanservice from Mitsuki-kun!

Mitsuki: Wha...

Mitsuki: I laughed so hard I spilled my coffee!!!

Mitsuki: Fanservice!? From me? To you?

Ryunosuke: When I see you do fanservice during lives, I find myself thinking about how cool you are for responding to each and every fan. And your fans look really happy about it.

Ryunosuke: I want to follow your example!

Mitsuki: No, wait, hold on..! Your fanservice is already so manly and sexy that it nearly makes your fans faint, so wouldn't improving on it any more than that be dangerous..!?

Ryunosuke: So you can't do it? I guess it would be difficult, since this is a radio broadcast we're talking about...

Momo: It's a great idea~! I wanna get some fanservice from Mitsuki, too!

Yuki: It does sound nice. Do something wild for me

Mitsuki: Wild, lololol

Mitsuki: Wait, I need to do it for Momo-san and Yuki-san, too!?

Riku: Me! Me! I want some, too!

Nagi: As do I.

Tamaki: And me.

Iori: You're all in the same group as him!

Riku: Ah... but he could do it for me during his unit song!

Nagi: Not for me, however... :,-(

Mitsuki: I'll do it for you guys at the dorm, lololol

Nagi: Thank you. You are a wonderful, service-oriented idol!

Riku: Yay!

Tamaki:

Sogo: We'll have to build a stage in the living room.

Yamato: This is getting pretty serious (lol)

Ryunosuke: That's great, you three!

Mitsuki: As for Tsunashi-san and the others, can we just agree that I'll do it in case I happen to draw that request on air?

Ryunosuke: Thank you, Mitsuki-kun! I'll be praying that you draw my request.

Momo: (o'3`d)☆

Yuki: (o'3`d)☆

Mitsuki: Aaaah! This is all just so embarrassing... lol

Tsumugi: I'm sure it'll make for a fun corner if Tsunashi-san's request is chosen!

Tsumugi: Momo-san, it's your turn.

Momo: Okay! My request is that Mitsuki takes a crack at breaking my stick-and-ball record!

Momo: The two of us have been pretty into it lately~. It'll be a good change of pace, and it's fun, too!

Mitsuki: You mastered the around-the-world technique the other day, didn't you!

Momo: Yep! The combo! But I still mess it up most of the time~.

Mitsuki: The hole in the ball always ends up somewhere random the more you keep doing moves.

Mitsuki: I guess it's better to just do one move at a

Mitsuki: ...Sorry, lol I got way too into this, lol

Momo: This turned into a stick-and- ball chat, lol

Yuki: You're like a pair of boys

Momo: I am a boy, Darling lololol

Mitsuki: But about your request, I think it'd be difficult to do over radio. They'd only be able to hear me playing...

Momo: Ohoho! That's where your in-depth live commentary comes in!

Mitsuki: Huh!? I have to talk while I play?

Mitsuki: Wouldn't that be really difficult!?

Momo: That's what makes it fun~! We can practice together some more before your show (∩´∀`)∩

Mitsuki: I could definitely use that, lol

Tsumugi: It's an unexpected request, but it sounds fun!

Tsumugi: Yuki-san, we need one final request from you!

Yuki: My request is a cooking song

Mitsuki: A cooking song?

Yuki: Like a cooking version of those songs they use to teach kids how to draw things. You're a great cook, so I want you to sing some recipes I don't know.

Mitsuki: Sing, lololol

Mitsuki: Why do I need to sing, lololol

Momo: Because the parody song from Yamato's show was so funny to him, I guess? After he heard it, he was doubled over and shaking for a pretty long while, lol

Yuki: It was so funny I almost couldn't breathe

Mitsuki: Ah, that song, lolol

Yamato: Aaaaaaaaaahhh

Yamato: Let's not talk about that!!!

Yuki: Thank you for singing such a lovely song for me, Yamato-kun ^^

Yamato: You better watch out once your turn rolls around...

Mitsuki: I've never made a song before, but I'll think about it, lol I've got a few recipes from my grandma that use wild herbs, would that do?

Yuki: Wild herbs sound good. They're perfect for this time of the year, too.

Tsumugi: I'd like to hear Mitsuki-san's cooking song, too!

Tsumugi: I've got all of your requests. Thank you all for the fun ideas!

Mitsuki: Thank you!

Momo: So now it's time for Mitsuki to come up with requests for the rest of us ★

Sogo: Ask anything, Mitsuki-san.

Choices/outcomes:

1. Do you have a request for us?

Mitsuki: That's the thing, I don't have anything in particular. You eat everything I cook without complaints, and I love you guys!

2. Do you have a request for TRIGGER?

Mitsuki: I want to have dinner with all three of them! I get to see Kujo even more rarely than the others, so let me arrange something!

3. Do you have a request for Re:vale?

Mitsuki: Feel free to invite us on your show whenever! I'll think of some project we can do together, lol

Mitsuki: Just being able to keep having fun with you is enough for me, though!

Yuki: It's almost your birthday, so you could at least ask us to rent an entire island for your party.

Momo: Would you even go to a party on an island!?

Yuki: Yeah? But I'd only stay indoors

Iori: If that's what Nii-san wants, I'll look around for an island we could rent.

Mitsuki: I think a room at a karaoke place is more than enough for me, lol

Yuki: It's still a little early, but. Happy birthday

Ryunosuke: Happy birthday! Do your best at the radio show!

Momo: ・:*:・:(*P'v`q)☆ Happy Birthday dear Mitsuki ☆(*P'v`q):・:*:・ I'll message you about our stick-and-ball practice later!

Tenn: Happy birthday.

Gaku: Happy birthday. Talk to you again sometime!

Banri: Happy birthday, Mitsuki-kun! Thank you for being IDOLiSH7's cheerful mood maker. I hope you'll have another great year!

Rinto: Happy birthday!

Kaoru: Happy birthday. I hope you'll continue to treat our boys well.

Tsumugi: And a happy birthday from me, as well!

Mitsuki: Wow! Thank you! It makes me really happy that you're always celebrating with me..!

Mitsuki: I'm gonna keep working on becoming a new me, so I hope you'll support me!

Nagi: Mitsuki, I will not wish you a happy birthday yet. Our special night together has only just begun.

Sogo: A special night... When Nagi-kun says that, it kind of makes your heart race.

Tamaki: We're pretty used to it by now, though

Mitsuki: Thanks to you guys, too! I'll do my best with the broadcast!

#idolish7 #mitsuki izumi #twelve hits!#translation #i7 #rabbit chat

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365daysoftododeku · 5 years

Text

2nd August 2019

Author: Kenyoda

Admin’s Note: Another oneshot of @ebonyphd‘s Internet Friends AU! You can read the rest of the series over here!

________________________________________________________________

Unexpected Friends

Shouto had known that this was a bad idea from the moment Natsuo had suggested it. But he was too shy to actually ask Midoriya out on his own, so he leaped at the rather neat solution that his brother had offered at the time. His current partner - a guy this time - had been dying to meet Shouto. Natsuo claimed that Tenko was also a high nerd and that he and Shouto would get along like a house on fire.

Shouto was unconvinced.

The last partner his brother had was a snobby ableist that had also been “dying” to meet Shouto. They had spent the whole date “lamenting” over Shouto’s “misfortune.” They had no idea he could read lips. He had spent the whole time fuming: he was deaf, not dying. They were also super rude to Natsuo. He was quite glad when Natsuo dumped them.

Natsuo had suggested that Shouto and Izuku tag along on his date with his boyfriend to see a movie. That way, if things went well, Shouto could ask him on a real date. Shouto had reluctantly agreed, pretty much because he had no idea what to do otherwise. So here he was now, waiting for Izuku and this ‘Tenko’ to show up. When Tenko made an appearance with a blonde girl that looked like she walked out of a vampire manga, all of Shouto’s alarm bells rang at once.

He, presumably, was dressed in black from literally head to toe. If he did not know any better, Shouto would swear the open jacket they were wearing was from Empire Souls, specifically from Company XIII, one of the main antagonists of the game. Under that there was a black t-shirt with red lettering that said,

The Number of FXXXs I give today:

houto internally snorted at that. This was Natsuo’s boyfriend, huh? This was completely different than his usual dates. They were usually somewhat intelligent, sociable, but ultimately shallow. This guy screamed anti-social. As the two approached, Natsuo grinned. The hood of the jacket was thrown back, revealing white hair and red eyes. A devious smirk was etched into his face, but his eyes softened when they landed on his brother.

“Hey Nats!” greeted the blonde as they came to stand before them. Tenko just gave a halfhearted wave and mumbled something. Natsuo did not seem to be offended - in fact he smiled wider.

“Hey Tenko! Glad to see you made it! How did the competition go?” Natsuo asked as he stepped forward and hugged the shorter man. Shouto blinked in surprise when he hugged him back.

“Good,” was the only thing Shouto could make out from the angle. Suddenly, there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find a bright Izuku bouncing next to him. Shouto couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. He hugged his friend tightly, Izuku doing the same. It had been nearly 2 years since the two had become friends. They were both in high school, Shouto attending a school for the deaf and blind and Izuku one closer to his home. But they met often at each other’s homes, and they spoke all the time on Unplug. Izuku beamed at him again. Shouto’s heart jolted in response. He had also been pathetically crushing on him for the last year.

Shouto had tried on numerous occasions to tell his friend, but he always lost his nerve at the last minute. What could he offer Izuku? He couldn’t hear him - sure, Izuku never minded that he had to sign when they were together, but he could not expect him to want to do that forever, right? Izuku was clearly popular among his peers, and becoming more popular since his friends encouraged him to start the HeroTube channel to supplement his forum ramblings. He had seen personally that his friend was pleasant and attractive, especially after he bulked up to do a Valor cosplay. Izuku discovered that he loved working out and that Uraraka did too, so they continued. Sometimes Shouto would join them on runs.

Shouto had little to offer in return, so the thought of admitting his crush was a little daunting. Both his siblings had been insisting that he at least attempt to talk to Izuku about it but Shouto refused. He didn’t want to lose the easy friendship he had with the other boy. Izuku was currently rambling to him about some post he found regarding a potential TV serialization for Altered Reality Academia. Izuku’s facial expression turned curious and then he told Shouto that his brother was trying to get his attention.

Shouto turned to see Natsuo and Tenko standing in front of them, Tenko looking a bit curious. Natsuo formally introduced everyone. The vampire girl’s name was Toga Himiko. Then he was introduced to Shimura Tenko. He and his brother apparently met at the hospital where Natsuo was currently doing a hands on internship. Shouto, through Izuku’s helpful translations, asked the teen whether he had ended up there due to the vampire girl and Tenko laughed heartily. Natsuo scowled.

“No. I did not. I am apparently more of a vampire than she claims to be… I am actually allergic to the sun,” he said, surprisingly in sign language. When Shouto must have given him a surprised look, he explained that his sister was Hard of Hearing. Shouto found that it felt a little less weird now. That is, until Toga said that he looked good enough to eat; then he was momentarily afraid for his life. A sneak glance at his friend’s pale face said that Izuku felt the same. Tenko rolled his eyes and assured them that she had already “fed” and that they were safe.

Shouto was still dubious.

“So what are we seeing again?” Natsuo asked his boyfriend, signing for Shouto.

“Sako-chan is debuting his movie at this festival, neh neh— Ten-chan?” Toga said, her lips and curls moving rapidly. Natsuo stumbled translating a bit but Shouto got the idea. Ah, another friend is debuting a movie, huh? Interesting. Apparently, it was part of an independent film festival. It was called DartMan: The Dark Midlife Crisis. It was supposed to be a parody of edgy superhero films.

As the group made their way towards the building, he and Izuku caught up on their week. Shouto told Izuku about his thoughts on becoming a social worker or a lawyer. His friend thought that was an amazing idea and had no doubt that he could pull it off. When Izuku said that, Shouto couldn’t help the flush that washed over his face. He wanted to tell Izuku how much his support meant to him, but he couldn’t begin to form the words. His hands were shaking too bad. So he settled for a probably broken but vocal ‘thank you.’ Izuku beamed back. He then surprised Shouto by saying he was still thinking about what he wanted to do. This was unusual as Izuku had talked about being a comic artist for the longest time.

Izuku had always talked about his want to be the next Yagi Toshinori. His writing was excellent and his art was amazing. Shouto was sure he was a shoo-in for the art school he wanted to go to. It was part of a larger university. What had changed? He had entertained the notion of them going to that very same university together. He had thought that maybe mentioning it would not be a bad way to approach the crush problem. Start simple. After all, most people would probably run the other direction if someone suddenly blurted out that they would ‘dream of kissing them and never leaving their side ever again’ out of nowhere. But Izuku’s change in direction had thrown him.

“Why did you change?” he asked as they stood in line. Izuku looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Well, partially because of my mom and partially because I tried commissions for a while. Sure, it was nice getting the money and I did not mind drawing for people, but suddenly what I loved doing became a chore. I— I don’t want to lose what I love doing for money. So, I have been thinking lately that I should do my art for myself on my own time and find something else to do…” Izuku said, his face clearly saying he was not sure about it. “I still want to go to UA, though. They have good connections,” said the boy with a shrug.

“That doesn’t sound like you, though,” Shouto pointed out immediately. Izuku cringed. Shouto pounced on that, nerves be damned. His friend needed help and Shouto was going to give it. “What is really bothering you? Someone leave nasty messages about your work again?” Shouto asked. Izuku resolutely shook his head, even as he moved forward in line. “Then what is it?”

“My mom was talking with one of the neighbors and they said some things about how I was wasting my potential and that I was such a ‘smart boy’ and that mom was a bad parent for letting me waste my time,” he finally admitted, shoulders slumping. Shouto inwardly seethed. How dare they make Izuku feel bad about what makes him happy?!

“That’s bullshit! You are smart! That is what makes you so good at what you do! You would not be half the analyst you are if you weren’t! Sure, being a comic maker is not the first thing that people would think of for you, but that doesn't mean it's not what you are destined to do. Tell them to go pack sand,” Shouto argued. Izuku laughed, out of shock more than likely.

“Thanks Shouto, I just… I worry that I am not cut out for it… if I am not living up to my potential,” he said, forlorn. Shouto took the distraction to buy their tickets for the movie before Izuku could even protest. He then beckoned his friend to come along. Izuku pouted, saying it was not fair. Shouto just grinned.

“Don’t worry about it, you can pay next time,” he said with a grin, before turning scarlet. Way to be a pretentious ass! he berated himself. He was no better when he caught Izuku sporting a similar shade on his cheeks. Shouto decided to find another distraction. His eyes landed on his brother and Tenko walking together.

It was strange.

He had never seen Natsuo so relaxed around a date before. Most of the time, he was overdressed and drawn as tense as a bow string. Now though he was in a simple polo and a pair of jeans. He was walking with his arm around Tenko’s shoulder as they talked. They quietly laughed at some inside joke as Toga flitted around them all bouncing curls and energy.

He wondered if he and Izuku could ever be close like they were, so secure in their relationship. His eyes cut to Izuku and the boy seemed lost in his own head. But that was Izuku, forever dreaming. A soft smile pulled at his lips. Izuku’s eyes suddenly bugged and he turned red. Shouto was confused at first until he felt Izuku squeeze his hand. Then he felt his face heat.

When had he taken Izuku’s hand?!

But his friend only smiled bashfully as he stared at the floor. He did not let go of his hand. Shouto’s heart kicked in his chest. It was a lovely feeling. Maybe he had a chance after all? Shouto held his hand a little tighter. They settled into line for snacks and Shouto felt eyes on him. He looked up to see Tenko eyeing him as his brother talked with Toga about something. The ethereal looking teen gave him a kind, teasing smile.

‘Nice job,’ he mouthed before eyeing their joined hands then looking at him again. Shouto blushed again, but felt grateful all the same. Tenko had definitely been a nice surprise. The boy was strange and had equally strange friends but so far he had been nice. Far nicer than most people he had met since he had finally started escaping the house. Shouto smiled back and mouthed,

‘Nice jacket. Empire Souls?’

Tenko nodded before mouthing, ‘made it myself.’

Shouto gaped. Okay… maybe Natsuo was right. He was going to have to speak to his boyfriend more… maybe if he plucked up the courage… he could go on a real double date with them in future. That could be fun. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

‘What are you smiling about?’ Izuku mouthed.

‘The jacket is Empire Souls inspired. He made it,’ he mouthed. Izuku’s eyes lit up. He immediately started drilling Tenko for details. Shouto laughed, but he was keenly aware that despite his enthusiasm, Izuku still hadn’t let go of his hand.

_______________________________________________________________

Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

#Story #ebonyphd #TodoDeku #365DaysofTodoDeku #TodoDeku365 #365 Days of TodoDeku #tddk #Shouto Todoroki #Todoroki Shouto #Izuku Midoriya #Midoriya Izuku #Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #My Hero Academia #MHA #Todoroki x Midoriya #Shouto x Izuku #TodoIzu #long post

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spiltscribbles · 5 years

Text

All The Lights Are Sparkling For You | Part I

~*~

“So a sixteen ounce almond latte with a pump of lavender and honey?” The barista chortles, flipping her pretty ginger hair and batting her lashes.

“Precisely gorgeous,” Kit says with a smile that makes her flush.

“Cool, that’ll be right up.”

“Brilliant!” Kit gives two quick wraps of his knuckles against the countertop before pivoting around and sliding into the seat across from Ty, pretending as if his chest doesn’t seize at the sight of his insanely intense sea glass eyes and the pedal soft curve of his cheek.

“She likes you,” he says in that stripped down way of his before taking a bite of his sub, a bit of mayo getting on his cupids bow, and thanking Kit when he passes over a napkin.

“You flatter me Tiberius,” Kit snorts before snatching the other half and eating it himself, only partially curious of how much it might look like a date from the outside, and entirely ignoring how much he wouldn’t mind if it was.

“Everyone likes you,” Ty shrugs, blasé.

“They tell me it’s the smile.”

That makes it so Ty lets out a breathy, little laugh, and Kit can’t help but liken it to the most beautiful instrument. He’s always so proud whenever he can make it so Ty’s eyes go incandescent and there’s the slightest dimple right on the apple of his cheek, when Ty looks effortlessly beautiful and happy to be here.

Kit knows that this sleepy Oregon town on the coast is as far away from LA— where Ty was brought up— as anything could be. He knows that Ty choosing to go here for University was a way for him to strike out on his own, apart from the huge Blackthorn clan that Kit’s only ever seen pictures of, but has been exceedingly jealous of ever since. Kit knows that Ty has never really fit into his own skin here, that if it wasn’t for Kit’s constant insistence that they spend days on days together at the start of their freshman year that Ty would’ve been perfectly content keeping to hisself for the four years he’s here until he could go back home. But still, Kit also knows that they were meant to be in each others lives, in some major capacity.

He thinks back to his mother— her pale gold hair and the twinkle in her eyes— She use to always croon that the stars were set out for us, that kismet and providence would lead us to the people we’re meant to be. Kit was a little boy then, one who was to busy making a ruckus wherever he went to spare any of his time to understanding what she meant with those sort of proclamations. Even now, so many years divorced from her death, Kit doesn’t think any of his decisions were chosen before he ever knew the options, but a small part of him does like the idea that some peoples stars were lined up in the exact right breath that they were destined to cross paths and to create an entirely knew one for just the pair of them. One that was glowing and glimmering and perfect.

Kit’s sure that Ty’s one of those people— maybe the only person save for Tessa and Jem— And if he could make Ty even slightly happier than he was, then Kit considers it a job well done.

“Order up,” the barista from before chimes as she slides across the coffee and a slice of the lemon loaf. “On the house handsome,” she winks before strutting back to her post.

“I’ll take that,” Ty says before plucking the dessert from Kit’s non suspecting hand.

“Rude.”

“Life can be like that,” Ty just reasons before picking up his chirping phone, face grimacing at the sight of the text.

“Everything’s okay?” Kit asks, tentative.

“’s just Livvy.”

Kit can feel his face scrunch up in confusion. Every time Ty even alludes to his twin sister— a pixie sized, beautiful brunette with eyes that are a mirror of Ty’s own— he’s only ever beaming with light and glee and it’s probably the only times Kit looks at Ty and he seems totally whole.

“Is she alright?”

“Wonderful.” Ty intones, tossing the device to the side and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, delicate hands beginning to tap and flutter around the table in a nervous sort of tension.

Kit’s becoming even more nervous than before.

“Don’t leave me in suspense Tiberius, what’s going on?”

“Nothing… Erm ah, nothing really.” Kit levels him with his patented are you shitting me grimace. “It’s just, my older brother…”

“Mark or Julian?”

“Julian, he’s getting married.” The locomotive sized weight on Kit’s chest suddenly dissipated and he swats Ty on the forearm.

“Hey! What’s with the frown you ass! That’s great news! It’s with that pretty blonde right? Emma?”

Ty nods, still impossibly glum looking.

“Ok Tiberius, I’m really confused to the whole woe with me thing you’ve got going on right now.”

“Livvy’s designated herself the head wedding planner.”

“Alright… and the problem?”

“I just know that Dru’s bringing her boyfriend Jamie, and Helen’s bringing her wife Aline, and of course Mark’s got his Kieran and Christina-“

“Okay man, i’m seriously not following any of this but we’re going back to the bit where Mark’s got two partners apparently? Which I personally find unfair and a bit elitist.”

Ty ignores him and just continues rattling off these names that Kit only slightly recognizes.

“Magnus and Alec are gonna be there and like just stand around being better than everyone! And Jace and Clary! Definitely Isabell and Simon too!”

“Am I having a stroke? Ty as my best friend you’re obligated to tell me if I’m having a stroke.”

“You know this’s all just a big ploy by Livvy, right?” Ty charges, mouth curled.

“This wedding… The one between your brother Julian and his long time girlfriend Emma, is a ploy? A ploy by Livvy?”

“She’s worried about me! She’s always worried about me! She thinks that I’m sequestering myself here, was mad when I came home over the summer and told her I hadn’t gone out with anyone all year.”

Kit spreads out his hands, very narrowly misses toppling over his drink. “Sisters am I right?… Actually am I right, I was an only child growing up and Nian has only just begun learning her shapes so I doubt she’d be much of a comparison.”

Ty’s expression goes very, very flat.

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“And you’re so serious.”

“Look, I know Livvy, okay. This’s just part of her grand plan to finally pair me up with someone!”

“A grand plan… Kit repeats, slow and confused.

“She’s worried about me, she thinks that everyone needs like a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever to be happy.”

“I see.”

“She’s gonna try and pair me up with like somebody I don’t even know for the entire wedding! Like some way worse version of a blind date. Just you watch!”

“Aren’t weddings like only a few hours?”

“Not in Blackthorn standards,” Ty bristles, begins to spin his phone with the pop socket Kit had gotten him a couple weeks ago because it had his initials and it was a cheap version of getting something actually monogrammed, which in all his dorkitude Ty actually loves to have, has got all his pencils imprinted with his first and last names, and middle initial. It’d all be infuriating if it wasn’t so cute.

“Yo man I’m sorry, but Livvy’s got your best interest at heart, you know that.”

“I know,” Ty sighs, runs a hand through his dark hair . “I just wish she didn’t feel like responsible for me all the time.”

Kit purses his lip in discomfort, suddenly feels an intense kinship with Ty’s twin whom he’s never met. He’d like to tell Ty that it’s not a feeling of responsibility but a gesture of love. She wants to make sure he’s taken care of because her heart wouldn’t feel complete if she wasn’t doing that. Kit wants to tell him it’s not because he’s a weight on her shoulders but because he’s the first person to look at him and make Kit feel like he’s being seen. The first person to touch him softly instead of automatically assuming he’s been cut from metal and steel and brimstone. The first person to have caught and effortlessly kept Kit’s attention, the only one who’s ever made it so Kit’s skin feels like it’s been lit on fire with every surreptitious glance.

Oh, erm— Ah, but that’s all completely from livvi’s hypothetic perspective, not from Kit’s. Not at all, not even slightly.

“Mmm,” Kit clears his throat, trying to clear his head of all those sorts of thoughts, less he risk the best friendship he’s ever known. “Well Livvy obviously just wants to make sure you’re happy, I bet if you just told her that you’ve already found a date for the wedding she won’t bother to try and play matchmaker.”

Kit’s taken aback when he sees an all too familiar gleam in Ty’s gorgeous eyes and his head popping up in sudden, acute excitement.

“Yes! Brilliant! Totally! Watson you’re a genius!”

Kit can’t help but preen, feels a warmth coiling deep inside him at the sparks Ty’s quite literally radiating.

“I’m glad you’ve finally came to the light Tiberius.”

“You’ll come then?”

“Oh, ah, what?”

“To the wedding! You’ll pretend to be my date, in a romantic sense I mean.”

“Ahh,” Kit feels like he’s been succor punched, is especially confused to this parody of what he’s been privately wishing to hear for over a year now. “Run that by me again?”

“you’re a genius!” Ty crows, fists clenched and smile bright. “It’s not even that large of a leap! You’re the only person I tell them about and I bet if I tell her now that we’ve begun dating she wouldn’t even prod when I bring you to the wedding in January!”

Kit still feels very much so out of the loop.

“THey’d probably want you to spend Christmas with us too, would that be alright with you? You guys don’t really celebrate right? Jem’s a Buddhist and you said Tessa is atheist right?”

“Ah… yeah?”

“Oh awesome! I’ll call her and tell her now!” Ty leaps out of his chair, gathers Kit in for a tight hug before scurrying off to a quieter corner of the union to chat with Livvy.

“Wait, what just happened?” is all Kit can manage out, blinking owlish in Ty’s wake.

#Kit and Ty #Ty and Kit #Tiberius Blackthorn #Kit Rook #Kit Herondale #Spilled Ink #The Shadowhunter Chronicles #Will never figure out their ship name lol #spilt ink

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internetremix · 5 years

Note

This is for Phill but if anyone else wants to answer this they can. Do you like Doctor Who.

Kristen: As you know, all British folk are required by law to like Doctor Who.

Atwas: I've had enough people yelling at me that I need to watch Dr. Who that I've avoided it for years out of spite. Also I just don't really watch tv.

Kristen: Faaaaiiiir

Alex: Join me spite brother. Join me in not watching shows or being told I'm stupid for not liking them.

Kristen: Man I always just feel HORRIBLY GUILTY but that guilt is not enough to you know, make me somehow make time in my day for hours upon hours of TV.A doctor who episode is fortyish minutes, my lunch break is about twenty and I got shit to do.

I had a few years where I was really into New Who back in college. Like my friend and I did a Master and 10th Doctor cosplay one year which was very cool (it wasn't oh god they are very shameful photos). I love the 9th Doctor and 10th Doctor and liked the start of 11. But the more the show involved River Song the less I liked it, so I largely tuned out after Amy and Rory left. I tried to get back for the 12th Doctor but even though I really like Peter Capaldi I just hated the writing.

I'm told 13th Doctor is pretty great but... yeah that's... a lot of time to spend watching a thing.

Phill: WHEW. OKAY

Kristen: Aw shit here it comes.

Phill: cracks knuckles Dr who is a wonderful show that sparks many wonderful memories and childhood moments. Days where I would cut holes in bins and pretend to be a Dalek, or when I wrapped myself in tinfoil trying to be a cyberman. Hell I vividly remember a time where I helped my friend construct a tardis out of some scrap wood that the local B&Q couldn't sell. And I'll be damned it if it wasn't the greatest thing ever. We even made several dr who parody skits on YouTube (do not search for them). Days where I would close all the curtains, kick out my family and watch the show as it premiered clutching my brightly coloured scarf and digging every second of it. As a kid I fucking loved dr who. It's a fuck TONNE OF stories each as entertaining and often wonderful as the last. Taught me lessons and ways to be, to love, care, and protect those I love and even those I don't know.And for this I cannot fault it.However. From an objective standpoint, not influenced by nostalgia... it's meh (I may or may not have had a huge crush on David tennant and billie piper but shhhh)P.s. Y'all know there are like two other brits in the group, right?

Xander: I just wanna cut in and say that I love Doctor Who but everything after Tennant was on a decline because Moffat is just the worst.

However the new season of Doctor Who is just amazing and brings back so many emotions of how I felt when I first watched it.Also I just wanna sidebar and talk about the whole “not watching/playing/listening to something out of spite” because I’ve never really understood that?

Like yeah it can be super annoying when a ton of people are telling me to watch a thing, even more so if they add things like “you’re stupid if you don’t watch it”

But like

Clearly these people really love this thing so much if they’re ready to vehemently scream to me about it, so I give everything people tell me to watch a chance. At the very least, I can become closer to that person by indulging something they love. And even if I don’t super like it, I at least have an opinion about it for conversation and discussion. If I don’t watch it at all then I’m basically just making that person feel like I don’t care about things they like.

Also not to mention, if a TON of people are telling me to do something, that means a) it must be pretty good, and b) if I don’t indulge it these people are gonna have a ton of conversations about it that I’ll be left out from.

This is how I got into Undertale.

#EndRant

Alex: I should clarify I wasn't told "you're stupid for not watching it," it was "you're stupid for not liking it." 'Cause like. If you're trying to bring me into a show you like and share something you care about with me. Don't fucking insult me.

Xander: Ah yes well in that case yeah fuck off

Phill: fair

Tex: Hi I'm from England and I love Dr who. Or wait no. Only UK person is Phill now. Hi I'm from nowhere and I love doctor who

Phill: sorry sweaty, i am england now

Alex: lie back and think of phill

Gentleman Walrus: i used to watch it a little bit when i was a youngin but honestly i haven't watched it in years. i stopped watching after david tennant left

Tex: I'm the kind of person that hated Moffat's reign but me and my mum always sit down to watch it together. So like I've watched every episode of the new stuff as it's come out. My favourite doctor will always be Christopher Eccleston

Phill: tom baker will always be my fav

Tex: I've not seen much of the old who I feel like I'd like him though. It's just hard to find the episodes of it. Or rather the serials. I watched a couple of ones that were mega boring though. One about cybermen on an alien planet and it was in black and white. Man that dragged.

Phill: those ones were very hit or miss

Tex: Bet they never miss, huh

Phill: got a doctor? i get he doesnt kis ya

#ask the ir crew #whole crew #drmetalwarrior

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sole-cuore-amore-e-droga · 5 years

Text

Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Latvia to Eurovision with a cinematic French rendez-vous

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Supernova with their strict-on decision to only focus on all that’s radiofriendly this year went to hell for me. I mean, I like me some pop tunes, but not those that are purposefully marketed to be enjoyed by the massive sheeps of the Eurofandom who usually fall for those songs by Michael James Down, Will Taylor, even Ylva & Linda... because at the end of the day they’re all just shallow and pointless outside the ESC bubble.

Well the best they could do is to accept some different winds out of nowhere! And so they did when the audition stage hit place and we guys got to witness the 33 shortlisted tunes for this year, among which of them are loudly and proudly different - like “Alligator” and “Grow”, which I did not fathom but I was also raging for their not qualification for - more precisely “Alligator” which was way more outstanding of those two I mentioned. The guys that performed that song were fun, their performance choice was fun, they could have totally rocked on Supernova... but alas.

In fact not that many alternative songs made it to the final down-to-16 cut! There might have been a couple of those that sound nothing a radio would play unless it’s not playing pop on its purpose (Laime Pilnīga’s ”Awe” comes to mind right away), but in the end of the day, not many of those survived and we were graced with some... choices, like letting Samanta Tina waste herself on a cocky-ass tune with terrible chorus rhyme-scheme and unbearable charisma and putting through the most Eirodziesma-like mess-fest with the Beaver guy on top of it. Honey I like you in costume but... not in this emploi.

I don’t blame them though, as one of non-blatant-pop tunes conquered the Latvian hearts for this year. These next Latvian people in Laura Rizzotto’s succession are collectively named Carousel and their song is “That Night”.

It sets a romantic mood throughout, like we all are reliving this magical last date - it was in a restaurant, the candles were lit, the restaurant looked vintage with bordeaux satin tablecloth on the table, and the couple is having a smooth evening... until the love runs out to the probably cold and rainy streets and the other half of the couple starts longing for one's love. That's all I can imagine with this.

So yeah, I really like this! It's got lovely instrumentation that doesn't need all the over the top instruments - just guitar, simple drums, etc.; the noir flair is distinct on here and that's not bad on here; this is just a simple and soft song that you too could play in your own restaurants when all the lovely couples have romantic dinners and sip wine. And in some kind of a French movie, too (with the lead role being a curly redhead artiste with striped sweater, looking for love in Paris (because it’s so romantic in there honhonhon). I'm not sure if the revamp touched upon this one little problem I noticed but the problem kinda seems to be that the chorus repeats. A lot. And verses are way too short that they could be easily forgotten against the 4th and 5th time one would be hearing the "lo-o-o-o-ove, where? Are? You?" line, and then lulled into sleep at how peacefully relaxing it is. Which is indeed of a problem because repetition has quite a bit of a negative effect on people. Yes, it gets the song onto your brain more easily, but the repetition drives people insane too. Just like it was suspected for “Story of My Life” (Belarus 2017) on its original version to be unable to be ‘stood’ - after the 2nd chorus, the rest of the song just went like “hey hey hayayayaho” until the end. Naviband fixed the problem by throwing in another vocal onomatopoeia in a form of the song bridge and I loved them for it, even if there still were too many “hey hey hey”s at the end, haha.

Final conclusion? Yep, issa good entry, and if anything it’s helluva underrated. Say what you want about it being “boring”, to me it’s somewhat fresh and exciting, because the melodies are pleasant, the instrumentation is top notch and Sabīne’s vocals are relaxing. Delightful starry night music, oh yes, thanks a lot for it, Carousel, I’m taking it.

Obviously, after they won Supernova, there was a lowkey uprising from fans who were dead certain on wanting Edgars Kreilis or Markus Riva to win, eek. Honeys, honeys. I do like those two as well, BUT for a bit of a mess that Supernova 2019 was with some of their decisions to include, I think it’s for the better they finally let themselves go lighthearted over it all rather than blatant tryhard to sound radio for the masses just cuz the NF wanted. Just forgive Carousel for winning, okay? Okay. ^_^

Approval factor: Definite yes from me, because why wouldn’t I rate it a yes. Yay brotherland!

Follow-up factor: For me personally this is miles better than Laura Rizzotto's last year's melodrama. Overall I think it just flows nice and is a delightful addition to the Latvian collection.

Qualification factor: This I cannot think about all too often but I am not sure if they'd... stand a chance anymore? I'd use to think it did, but that was weeks before supposedly much stronger entries rushed in, squeezing Latvia into an uncomfortable position. But I really hope it's just charming enough to kind of get through. Sort of. A little bit. I'm positive about it happening, but not that much. And a lot of older audiences might love it enough to vote it, too.

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

I admit that I got way too heated about hearing Supernova’s new approach to selecting entries, but in the end it turned out that I didn’t need to worry all that much in the first place - some of those alternative entries we got were very nice (or at least the entries out of the standart overbearing radio-pop norm), both in their actual auditions (this time they were on an actual stage in front of a jury instead of the listeners pick-pocketing the submissions themselves) AND among the actual picks. But what else is there to be note-worthy in this year’s edition of this show?

• Well, among of the auditionees there were those too-weird-ass bands/artists (some of them I mentioned), and you saw me mention the “Alligator” song to you beforehand, which is done by an ambitious project ATOM.LV (so did I mention “Grow" by Waterflower and her show is worth mentioning as well <3 Those flowers in her hair, the hair color, the makeup, her overall image (it’s like Jamie-Lee upgraded) and the dance moves are ADORABLE <3333 but the song is... hmm... :c). And I’ll repeat myself - those guys rocked! I may have not been a massive fan of this but I can at least commend them - they had a good song structure going on, a clear message (alligators from the stars *catchy trumpet fanfare part* trying to probably conquer the world, yeah!) and an outrageous tribal image with that facepaint on! Awh hell yeah! Who wouldn't want THAT through the live shows??? Ah, only the Latvian juries ofc. (And me because I never got the appeal of this but I sure felt sad for 'em kids hoping and wishing for them through :x)

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• Thank Goodness I had my faves through - all hail Double Faced Eels! They're the little legendary pop band who went all their way to compete in some Youtube contest and have had sung with Bebe Rexha as the prize for winning it almost 1,5 years ago :o Believe it or not but I have heard of them way before their Sulernova stint - I got introduced to them through a friend, known on Tumblr as Soupgeist. :3 And I don't regret stanning a name I know, as "Fire", their entry in this year's 'Nova, was a pop-rock banger with some electro in! Granted the vocaliat might've had some troubles singing live but he still pulled it off nicely in the finals, with that energy coming out on top! Yeah yeah, uguns. 🔥

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• Like I mentioned earlier, there were people rooting for other favourites this year so heavily, and that annoyed the hell out of me, because I thought that Eurofans have some sort of evolving tastes that accept more than just pretty pop boys/girls with not-so-special songs? Well, I mentioned that Eurofans’ targets were Edgars Kreilis and Markus Riva. The latter felt so attacked about him trying to achieve his representation dream over and over he even tweeted about it once... well I did like his song “You Make Me So Crazy”, but I found it a little too overrated with the fans. So I did Edgars, but his song was way catchier and had way more personality than being a club track, I tell ya. Why would his song be renamed from “Fire” (yes, he partially shared a song title with that Double Faced Eels’s song!) to “Cherry Absinthe”, anyway? It gives it a bit more of an exciting feeling, tbh. ^_^ So I ended up rooting for him a little bit more out of the two ‘pretty’ pop boys, if I had to accept one of those kind of winners that everyone wanted (like everyone wanted just either yesyes or The Middletonz for Hungary this year).

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• There were a lot of other nice chosen songs too that I would’ve loved to discuss, but I just can’t not mention the Riga’s Beaver as one of the more memorable moments here. I did write earlier in this that I was disappointed though. Not because of the beaver being out of costume and coming at us as a young-to-middle-aged stunning lad, but because the Beaver-entry, “Tautasdziesma”, was a “Supernova”-times cluster-mess. I think of this as a charity music medley-parody of some sorts, and that doesn’t bode with me well, and sometimes I like parodies, like the one Klemen Slakonja (aka the guy who portrayed Putin for a musical number once) did in his country’s NF in 2012 (that he hosted) was fairly nice (although a bit too much), but... ehhh... at least the men are fine and their costumes were dandy.

youtube

• Let’s not forget that those auditions had this one glorious thing going on during the performances - we saw shots of the jurors judging all of the 33 shortlisted acts with... rather less-than-enthusiastic looks, and man oh man were they fabulously done with this shit <3333

if that’s not a big indicator of them being too dead inside to be judging anything that day, then idk what is...

Anyway, I am finished with this review also, and I’m happy about it! I don’t think I can move any of this at a more quicker pace (seriously, I have to do so many more even during rehearsals!!!), but I am still trying to do my best. Good luck to the Carousel quartet and may they not flop in May! To hell with the naysayers sweeties, you’ll do just fine x ✨

#eurovision 2019 #tel aviv 2019 reviews #latvia 2019 #carousel #that night #latvia

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clown-bait · 6 years

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Paranormal Journeys Part 7 (Monster Roommate AU)

WOW I FINALLY DID IT. So I started a new job and things have been NUTS but this fic is not dead and I am determined to finish it. And dont you worry folks I’m a stubborn ass who does not quit. So here it is the next chapter. Leech gets tortured a bit and Penny visits an old friend. Hope you guys like it!

Ch 7 Mike Hanlon gets a Visitor

A screech echoed though the old barn of the former Hanlon sheep farm. Leech glanced furiously around the stall she was in. A moment ago she was full and happy then suddenly a cloth was pressed to her mouth and a bag over her head.

“WHO THE FUCK IS THE IDIOT THAT CHLOROFORMED ME!!” The vampire roared “CAUSE I’D LIKE TO KNOW WHO’S HEAD IM RIPPING OFF FIRST!”

Her head snapped in the direction of footsteps and she tried to charge with supernatural speed but felt a short chain attached to her neck snap tight. The nosferatu snapped her jaws in frustration.

“Ok guys get everything ready make sure the cameras are rolling and somebody wake up Chris.” Zander shouted as he approached the struggling vampire.

“Don't worry we’re going to help you.”

“BITCH THE ONLY HELP I NEED IS FINDING SPACE TO STORE YOUR LEFTOVERS!!” She snapped.

The ghost hunter pulled a cross from his coat and held it out at the nosferatu who began to hiss loud and sweat. He quickly put it away at her reaction.

“She's possessed all right, did you see how much she recoiled in terror? this is definitely a powerful demon were dealing with here”

“Demon?! Motherfucker I'm friends with demons, you wouldn't know a demon if it came up and bit you in the ass.” Leech spat and pulled on her chain.

“Note the foul language and denial. The creature that has ahold of her is definitely scared and trying to protect its self.”

“Protect myself from what? This shit show excuse of a reality tv exorcism? Tell ya what, if you free my hands i’ll spew pea soup at big boy over there and speak latin backwards. These shackles are tight as fuck can’t a girl get a little comfort?”

“Gosh its foul mouthed.” the bigger ghost hunter said to the team.

“Yeah thats how they are bro it's definitely going to try to provoke us. Whatever you do don't engage.” Zander said to his team mate while placing different items on a table

“You started it.” Leech mumbled. “What are those?”

“We're going to force you out of this poor girl.”

“AH! So its to be torture! I can cope with torture.” Leech flashed a cocky grin and wiggled her eyebrows expectantly.

“Did you…. steal that line from Princess Bride?” the bigger ghost hunter Rick asked her.

“Eeeyyy! Someone finally gets my references! And to think I was gonna eat this guy first!”

“RICK don't engage it!” Zander hissed

“Found our villain! Now tell me do you have six fingers on your left hand or am I gonna be calling you Humperdink”

“I think it was the right hand” Rick interjected

“Huh no shi-OW FUCK JESUS CHRIST!!!” Leech screamed as holy water was flung at her face by the lead ghost hunter. A cluster of painful burns began to bubble on her skin where the water had landed. “RUDE!”

“Silence demon!”

“I’M NOT A DEMON! GOD you are like the biggest edge lord! What’s next? You gonna start shouting bible verses too like they do in the movies?” she snarled as Chris walked in the room.

“Z I had the weirdest fucking dream.”

“Not now bro we’re doing the exorcism.”

“Yeah poorly. Bet you dickbags got all your training from bad horror movies and porn parodies.”

“Sheesh that thing is nasty” Chris winced

“Demon Dick 5?” the Rick asked as his companions glared at him in shock and annoyance.

“One of my favorites Rick. I like this guy have him do the exorcism!”

“We've already wasted enough time!” Zander shouted and picked up a book from the table he began to read a passage and Leech dramatically pretended to hiss and writhe her tongue lolling out of her mouth. “Hahaha Man oh man if Phil could hear you guys talking about him like this he'd be laughing with me just as hard! Shit wait somebody text him for me!”

“Why would we do that? Also who's phil?”

“Oh right, Phil is Satan we used to play poker together before my boyfriend banned it from the house. Not my doing for once lets get that clear.”

“Don't listen to a word its saying guys”

“Aw come on Humperdink let me just text my buddy once” her eyes flashed white over in Rick’s direction before being splashed with holy water once again. The nosferatu’s skin sizzled and steam rose from her burns. “J-just….text…LOL getting… a half assed….exorcism…hit send…. mph there.”

Chris glanced over to Rick who’s eyes had rolled up into his head he was holding her cellphone which just buzzed with a notification. “RICK SNAP OUT OF IT!” he shouted and turned to the grinning vampire pelting a rock at her face. “LET HIM GO”

Leech spat as the stone broke her nose and looked back up sticking her tongue out through the black ichor dripping down her face.

“CHRIS! Control yourself!” Zander shouted and Leech winked back at the two.

“Read it Ricky!” she smirked.

“I-it says R-O-F-L cant be there, at yoga getting this ass….its a picture of a goat and a woman’s back side” Rick’s eyes rolled back down and Leech vomited a small amount of black goo onto the barn floor. “Phew that took more out of me than I thought” she muttered and panted.

“RICK!”

“I'm sorry she did something to my head!”

“Ok but can you at least show the picture though?” the vampire asked looking up from her now bruising eye and nose.

“NO!” the other two ghost hunters turned and shouted.

“OH COME ON! I wanna see that booty”

“WOW this thing is terrible!” Chris glanced over at Zander who was prepping to try another round of bible verses.

“I know bro this is one of the nastiest ones we've dealt with! This is pure evil we’re dealing with here.” The lead ghost hunter clapped his friend on the shoulder reassuringly.

“Aww I'm blushing! you really mean it?!” the vampire shouted to them

“Bro hand me my rosary.”

“What are those? Anal beads? So you HAVE seen Demon Dick 5!”

Zander got close and began to shout “IN THE NAME OF JESUS CHRIST I COMMAND YOU TO GET OUT OF THIS WOMANS BODY”

“Hahaha that was totally a direct quote.” Leech laughed again but was cut short when the silver cross dangled in front of her face “FUCK GET IT AWAY!” She hissed and the ghost hunter dangled it closer to her. Leech could feel her skin burn with heat where it drew close. The ghost hunter threw another wave of holy water at her and she hissed in pain face turning skeletal for a second as her skin sizzled. “A-all right if were gonna get straight into the kinky stuff we should at least have a safe word. Mine’s usually Float.” she tried to joke through the pain. Her skin was on fire with the crucifix being so close.

“Z I don't think she's a demon” Rick said tugging on his leaders arm

“Rick I’ve been at this way longer than you I know a demon when I see one”

“Bullshit you're doing this all wrong. Plus Im not a demon I can prove it too if you hand me that orange.” Leech panted.

“I don't know Z this could be a trick” Chris said with worry.

“Look have you ever seen one do some of the shit she just did? Just hand her the orange”

“Fine Rick. Fine. We’ll humor you but if nothing happens we’re getting right back to the exorcism.”

Zander rolled the fruit over to the vampire who glared up at him from her knees “You gonna undo my hands so I can eat this?”

“No.”

“Weeeelllll fuck you then! So much for what’s left of my dignity.” she grumbled and bent down to the floor biting into the fruit as best she could to suck out the juice. “Ahm hoing to rerhet hiss ho huch…” she said while her fangs sunk in. Leech came up with a weak expression on her battered and burnt face looking nauseous and dizzy. “You're all gonna wanna stand back when I- HURK!” the vampire suddenly lurched forward and spewed out blood and guts onto the barn floor in an inhuman amount. She kept going for a solid five minutes until Leech was slumped over supported by the chain around her neck. “Huh, is that an engagement ring? Shit I need to chew my food.” she wheezed before emptying the rest of her stomach contents.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” all three ghost hunters screamed in unison.

“Yeah lets see Pazuzu pull that shit!” Leech grinned declaring victory before shouting at some unknown force in the ground “YOU HERE THAT ZUZU I JUST OUT WEIRDED YOU! WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW BITCH!? PEA SOUP GOT NOTHING ON ME!”

“Zander! If this is not a demon then what the hell is she bro?” Chris turned to his leader in a panic

“Nosferatu.” a vaguely familiar female voice said walking into the barn “What you're dealing with is a nosferatu.”

leech sniffed the air and snarled in disgust.

“Fuck.”

———————————————————————-

Somewhere in the town of Derry, Mike Hanlon was laying in his bed coming down from another high. It was time to turn in for the night but with all that had been going on the last couple days the librarian needed a fix…. just a quick one to calm the nerves. His night would be anything but calm when two glowing yellow eyes lit up his room like the obnoxious christmas lights his neighbors had set up.

“Mike” something whispered in the dark “Mike! Help us!” came another disembodied voice. He knew them all too well. The librarian sat up in his bed glancing around his room unaware of the creeping fingers clawing up his mattress. Burnt hands wrapped around the terrified man pinning him down while a disheveled looking monster from his childhood nightmares stepped into the moonlight.

“Thought you could trick me did ya Mikey? Thought you could fool Ol’Pennywise by taking what he loves most. Stupid boy! Stupid, stupid, stupid! No one fools me. no one.” the clown began his voice shaky and dangerous trying to mask the obvious panic behind it as he paced. The creature’s posture and gait reminded him of a nervous caged animal unpredictable and dangerous. Something was very wrong with IT.

“Y-you? W-hy are you here?” the librarian asked cautiously.

“TELL ME where she is SHEEP BOY. Tell Penny where his peachy is and he’ll make it much much quicker for you. Yes! A quick death or a slow one pick your path!” he snarled as Mike was trying to decide if he was still high.

“A-are you real?”

“REAL? Real THIS ISNT REAL ENOUGH FOR YOU MIKEY?”

Mike’s stomach flip flopped in realization of the little reminder of all those years ago. IT had to be real and now IT was in his bedroom.

“Penny knows you need time, yes iIknow you haven't figured out that stupid reptile’s riddles. Don't you fret sheep boy I am just here for her this time. Bring her to me, bring me my mate and you can go back to trying to understand what mortals cannot.” IT was frantically babbling around his room pacing like a tiger in a small cage looking almost fearful its self. Mike remembered that look well the last emotion he saw on ITs face before it vanished down that hole. Something was very, very wrong.

“A mate? …You?!” he asked trying to keep the creature talking to piece the situation together as best he could.

The clown shot him an unamused look as if this was far from the first time someone has asked that. “Where is my Leechie!? I am the questioner here!”

“You're talking about Lucy right? Something’s happened to her?”

“Lucy… Lucy yes, yes her human name. Don’t play games sheep boy release her to me!” Pennywise snarled while he stalked beginning to impatiently kick things over and sniff items of clothing desperate for that sweet smell of blood and ashes.

“Even if I did know where she is, why would I help you?”

The clown roared and charged forward coming in close to the trapped man on the bed fangs bared long and needle like. IT spat in Mike’s face drool and bits of flesh hitting his skin as it spoke. Something was very off with IT more so than usual, as if possessed by some sort of ancient instinct overriding its usual demeanor.

“You want to stop me don't you? I’ll let you live Mikey! Yesss I’ll let you try! One free shot! Just give me my Peachy!” IT was bargaining now just like it did in the cistern 27 years ago. The clown must be desperate.

“I don't have her” the librarian spat back at the clown who snarled and grabbed his throat. Suddenly Mike felt searing pain in his mind as IT forcibly invaded his thoughts its eyes blackened on the edges pupils drifting off into different directions till he found what he was looking for and returned them to focus. IT’s face changed again from rage, to shock and finally to embarrassment. In IT’s hate fueled assault on its enemy IT had made a grave mistake. Mike had nothing to do with his precious mate. In fact all Pennywise had done was just reveal his greatest weakness to his greatest enemy. IT had messed up and it had messed up bad.

The clown released the librarian and awkwardly backed up off the bed eyes large and wide. Wordlessly, IT glanced over to Mike’s bedroom door and without breaking eye contact opened it while silently slinking out like a dog with its tail between its legs. The hands around the librarian vanished into smoke and everything became calm and quiet around him. “What the hell just happened?” he asked the empty void not expecting to get a response and not sure if he wanted one either.

———————————

Pennywise returned to his home to find his…..friends? Seated on his couch awaiting the result of his hasty impromptu rescue mission. That, and they were probably mad that he tore Freddy’s head back off in rage. Even his cat seemed a bit upset with him.

“Well? Did you embarrass yourself?” Chucky asked him taking a drag from one of Leech’s joints.

“It…..it wasn't the librarian…” the clown muttered.

“Oh yeah he embarrassed himself.” Freddy laughed still applying a few more staples to his neck.

“Hey if Fangs doesn't come back can I use her room? Thinkin’ about making it into a nice man cave” Chucky boldly asked earning him a death glare from the distressed clown.

Penny snarled and shooed everyone away from his couch snatching up Church to absentmindedly pet as if the cat was a coping mechanism for his current state. What if she doesn't come back? There were emotions he was feeling he didn't think were possible. His new strange instinct to protect driving him to near insanity as he was currently in a constant war with himself to drive the feeling back. Nature and ego raged war inside the eldritch being.

His inner thoughts were interrupted when the door to Neibolt House creaked open the residents all took their leave except the owner who still sat on his couch stroking his cat not wanting to put any effort into this one.

“H-Hello?” a voice called out. “Uh clown? Pennywise?” Mike had never actually called the clown by name before it felt weird on his tongue.

Something appeared behind the librarian blocking his exit.

“What do you want” IT hissed low and in a whisper. Mike turned to see the god of fear its self looming behind him with a plump dirty grey cat tucked under its arm. The two stared at each other in hatred and confusion. The librarian looked at Church and back to the clown.

“Is that a cat?”

“Possibly..”

“Are you going to explain why you have it?”

“No.”

“….what the hell happened to you?” Mike whispered half to the clown half to himself.

“Why are you here?” pennywise snarled growing impatient.

“I cant believe I'm saying this but I'm here to….help.”

“YOU WHAT?!” the house shook with the inhuman roar released from Pennywise’s throat.

“LET ME EXPLAIN HOLD ON!” the librarian put his hands out in an attempt to calm the savage beast who had nearly thrown the animal in its arms.

“You have five seconds human before I tear out your eyes.”

“Look you want your…uh girlfriend or whatever she is back. I need more time to figure out how to kill you.”

“Is this a bargain?” the clown raised his eyebrow suspiciously.

“Whoever has her is most likely trying to get to you and will try to harm you as well. We both know all they will do is send you back to sleep and if that happens I can’t stop you and you lose the girl. I can help you get her back. I have a way into the farm, and I can distract whoever has her as a friendly face. Then we can go back to trying to kill each other, business as usual.”

The clown glared at mike with a fury that made the librarian tremble with fear. This had been a mistake he was going to die and everything will be ruined on this stupid risk.

“You dare assume I cannot solve my own problems sheep boy?? What’s to stop me from tearing you apart right now.”

“That.” Mike pointed behind the clown. Pennywise slowly turned to see a box with a balloon tied to it specifically just to mock him. The clowns eyes grew wide as he sniffed the air and saw the black ooze leaking out of the corner of the cardboard. With careful claws he opened the lid and peered inside letting out one of the most horrifying sounds Mike Hanlon had ever heard in his life. The box was thrown to the floor and an object rolled out of it. It was a cold pale finger tipped with a sharp feminine nail and the blood that leaked from it was black.

-------------------

Uh oh what did Leechie do this time? Poor clown be going NUTS over all this. Im so excited to do some frenemy shit with Pen and Mike like Ive been DYING to get here. Also its Leech’s turn to meet an old enemy. Wonder who it is?

#monster roommate au #pennywise fanfiction #pennywise x oc #horror fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #it fanfiction #losers club #mike hanlon #nosferatu oc #vampire oc #leech needs to stop antagonizing people

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maryanntorreson · 4 years

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How writing about difficult experiences can help you take back your power

Thoka Maer

I have a question for you. Have you ever seen something and you wish you could have said something — but you didn’t?

And I have a second question. Has something ever happened to you and you never said anything about it — but you should have?

I’m interested in this idea of action — of the difference between seeing, which is the passive act of observing, and the actual act of bearing witness.

Bearing witness means writing down something you have seen, something you have heard, something you have experienced. The most important part of bearing witness is writing it down; it’s recording. Writing it down captures the memory. Writing it down acknowledges its existence.

One of the biggest examples we have in history of someone bearing witness is Anne Frank and her diary. She simply wrote down what was happening to her family and about her confinement and, in doing so, we have a very intimate record of this family during one of the worst periods of our world’s history.

You too can use creative writing to bear witness, and I’m going to walk you through an exercise that I do with a lot of my college students, who are future engineers, technicians, plumbers — basically, they’re not creative writers. We use these exercises to unsilence things we’ve been keeping silent. It’s a way of unburdening ourselves.

It’s 3 simple steps:

Step 1: Brainstorm and write it down

I give my students a prompt. The prompt is “The time when …” and I want them to fill in that prompt with times they might have experienced something, heard something or seen something and they could have said something or intervened but they didn’t. I have them write a list as quickly as possible.

I’ll give you example of some of the things I would write down:

- the time when a few months after 9/11 and two boys dared themselves to touch me and they did - the time when my sister and I were walking in a city and a guy spat at us and called us terrorists - the time way back when I went to a very odd middle school and girls a couple of  years older than me were often married to men nearly double their age - the time when a friend pulled a gun on me - the time when I went to a going-away luncheon for a coworker and a big boss  questioned my lineage for 45 minutes

There are times when I have seen something and I haven’t intervened. For example:

- the time when I was on a train and I witnessed a father beating his toddler son and I didn’t do anything - the many times when I’ve walked by someone who was homeless and in need and asking me for money and I walked around them and I did not acknowledge their humanity

The list could go on and on. Think of times when something might have happened sexually, times when you’ve been keeping things repressed, and times with our families. Because our families — we love them, but at the same time we don’t talk about things. So we don’t talk about the family member who has been using drugs or abusing alcohol; we don’t talk about the family member who might have severe mental illness. We’ll say something like, “Oh they’ve always been that way,” and we hope that in not talking about it and not acknowledging it, we can act like it doesn’t exist, that it will somehow fix itself.

Your goal is to write down at least 10 things, and once you have those 10 things, you’ve actually done part one, which is to bear witness. You have unsilenced something that you have been keeping silent.

Step 2: Narrow it down and focus

What I suggest is going back to your list of 10 and picking 3 things that are really tugging at you, three things that you feel strongly about. It doesn’t have to be the most traumatic things but it’s things that are like, “Ah, I have to write about this.” I suggest you sit down at a table with a pen and paper — that’s my preferred method for recording but you can also use a tablet, an iPad, a computer, just something that lets you write.

I suggest taking 30 minutes of uninterrupted time, meaning that you turn your phone off, put it on airplane mode, no email. If you have family or if you have children, give yourself 20 minutes or 5 minutes. The goal is just to give yourself time to write.

You’re going to focus on 3 things — you’re going to focus on the details, you’re going to focus on the order of events, you’re going to focus on how it made you feel. That last one is the most important part. I’m going to walk you through how I do it.

The first thing I feel very, very strongly about is that time when a couple of months after 9/11, these two boys dared themselves to touch me. I remember I was in a rural mall in North Carolina and I was just walking, minding my business.

I felt like people walking behind me were very, very close. I was like, “OK, that’s kind of weird, let me walk a little bit faster.” They walked a little bit faster too and I heard them going back and forth — “No, you do it” “You do it” “No, you do it.” And then one of them pushes me and I almost fall to the ground.

I popped back up, expecting some type of apology and the weirdest thing was they did not run away. They actually stood right next to me and I remember there was a guy with blond hair and he had a bright red polo shirt and he was saying “Give me my money, I did it, man”, and the guy with the brown hair who had a choppy haircut gave him a $5 bill. I remember it was crumpled, and so I’m like, “Am I still standing here? This thing just happened. What just happened?”

And it was so weird to be someone’s dare and then also not exist at all. I remembered when I was younger and someone dared me to touch something nasty or disgusting. I felt like that nasty and disgusting thing.

The second thing I feel very, very strongly about is the time when a friend pulled a gun on me (I should say former friend). I remember there was a group of us outside, he had run up, and he had the stereotypical brown paper bag in his hand. I knew what it was. I’m a very mouthy person and I started going off. I was like, “What are you doing with that gun? You’re not gonna shoot anyone. You’re a coward. You don’t even know how to use it.”

I kept going on and on and on and he got angrier and angrier and angrier and he pulled the gun out and put it in my face. I remember every one of us got very, very quiet. I remember the tightness of his face. I remember the barrel of the gun and I felt like — and I’m pretty sure everyone around me who got quiet did too — felt like this is the moment I die.

The third thing I feel very, very strongly about is this going away luncheon and this big boss. I remember I was running late and I’m always late; it’s just a thing that happens with me. The whole table was filled except for the seat next to him. I didn’t know him well; I had seen him in the office. I didn’t know why the seat was empty; I found out later on why. So I sat down at the table and before he even asked me my name, the first thing he said was “What’s going on with all of this?” and he gestured at my head. I thought, “Do I have something on my face? What’s happening?”

Then he asked me with two hands this time “What’s going on with all of this?” And I realized he’s talking about my hijab. In my head I said, “Oh, not today.” But he’s a big boss — he’s like my boss’s boss’s boss. So for 45 minutes I put up with him asking me where I was from, where were my parents from, my grandparents. He asked me where I went to school, where I did my internships, he asked me who interviewed me for that job. And for 45 minutes, I tried to be very, very, very, very, very polite, trying to answer his questions.

But I remember I was making eyeball “Help!” signs at the people around the table, like “Someone say something, intervene”. It was a rectangular table, so there were people on both sides of us and no one said anything, even people who might be in the position to do so, bosses. No one said anything. I remember I felt so alone. I remember I felt like I didn’t deserve to be in his space. I remember I wanted to quit.

So these are my three things and you’ll have your list of three things. Once you have these three things, you have the details, you have the order of events, you have how it made you feel, you’re ready to actually use creative writing to bear witness.

Step 3: Pick one and tell your story

You don’t have to write a memoir; you don’t have to be a creative writer. I know sometimes storytelling can be daunting for some people but we are human, we are natural storytellers. If someone asks “How is your day going?”, we have a beginning, a middle and an end. That is a narrative.

Our memory exists and subsists through the act of storytelling. You just have to find the form that works for you. You can write a letter to your younger self, you can write a story to your younger self, you can write a story to your five-year-old child, you can write a parody, a song, a song as parody. You can write a play, you can write a nursery rhyme, you can write it in the form of a Wikipedia article.

If it’s one of those situations where you saw something and you didn’t intervene, perhaps write it from that person’s perspective. So if I go back to the boy on the train who I saw being beaten, What was it like to be in his shoes? What was it like to see all these people who watched it happen and did nothing? Or I could put myself in the position of someone who was homeless and just try to figure out how they got there in the first place. Perhaps it would help me change some of my actions, perhaps it will help me be more proactive about certain things.

By telling your story, you’re keeping it alive so you don’t have to do anything; you don’t have to show anyone any of these steps. But even if you’re telling it to yourself, you’re saying this thing happened, this weird thing did happen. It’s not in my head. It actually happened and by doing that maybe you’ll take a little bit of power back that has been taken away.

The last thing I’m going to do is I’m going to tell you my story. The one I’ve picked is about this big boss and I picked that one because I feel like I’m not the only one who has been in a position where someone has been above me and been talked down to. I feel like all of us might have been in positions where we felt like we could not say anything because this person has our livelihood, our paychecks, our jobs in their hands and times we might have seen someone who has power talking down to someone and we should have or could have intervened.

By telling this story, I’m taking back a little bit of power that was taken away from me. I have changed the names, and it happened a decade ago. It doesn’t have any happy ending, because it’s just me writing down what happened that day.

This is how I use creative writing to bear witness.

At Lisa’s Going Away Luncheon

I want to ask my boss’s boss’s boss if he’s stupid

or just plain dumb after he takes one look at my hijab

and asks me where I’m from in Southeast Asia.

I tell him that it’s New Jersey, actually,

and he asks where are my parents from,

and my grandparents and my great-grandparents

and their parents and their parents’ parents

as if searching for some Other blood,

as if searching for some reason why some Black

Muslim girl from Newark wound up seated next to him

at this restaurant of tablecloths

and laminated menus.

I want to say “Slavery, jerk,”

but I’ve got a car note and rent and insurances

and insurances and insurances and credit

cards and credit debt and a loan and a bad tooth

and a penchant for sushi so I drop

the jerk but keep the truth.

Tell me, he says,

“Why don’t Sunnis and Shiites get along?”

“Tell me,” he says, “What’s going on in Iraq?”

“Tell me,” he says, “What’s up with Saudi and Syria

and Iran?” “Tell me,” he says, “Why do Muslims

like bombs?” I want to shove an M1 up his behind

and confetti that pasty flesh and that tailored suit.

Instead I’m sipping my unsweetened iced tea

looking around at the table, at the co-workers

around me; none of whom, not one,

looks back at me. Rather they do the most

American things they can do:

They praise their Lord. They stuff their faces

And pretend they don’t hear him.

And pretend they don’t see me.

This post was adapted from a TEDxUCincinnati Talk. Watch it here:

youtube

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sakinah Hofler is an award-winning writer and a PhD student at the University of Cincinnati in the English Program. Formerly, she worked as a chemical and quality engineer for the United States Department of Defense. She’s an advocate for infusing the arts into our daily lives.

This post was originally published on TED Ideas. It’s part of the “How to Be a Better Human” series, each of which contains a piece of helpful advice from someone in the TED community; browse through all the posts here.

How writing about difficult experiences can help you take back your power published first on https://premiumedusite.tumblr.com/rss

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bibliovoreorc · 6 years

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The Heretic: A Liliana #FanFic

“So it has been some time, then, since you last saw your aunt?” the head nurse said, sounding a bit confused.

“My great aunt, and yes,” Liliana said, smiling as she lied. “It has been some time. I’ve been away for many years, you see, and I only just heard of her decline.” Liliana’s smile broadened. “Naturally, when I did, I came straight away.”

“Ah, I see, I see,” the nurse said, sounding somewhat mollified. “You will have to forgive my surprise, my dear. It’s just that we were unaware that the revered mother had any family left.”

“She does not,” Liliana said, “save for me.”

A white-robed orderly was pushing a cart laden with strong-smelling medicaments down the hallway, so the head nurse and Liliana stepped to one side to make way.

“My ties to the revered mother may be distant,” Liliana said, “but they remain very important to me.”

“It gladdens me to hear that,” the head nurse said.

They paused then beside a heavy curtain, drawn across an open doorway, and the nurse held up a hand in warning.

“Before you enter,” she said, “I wish to steel you for what you may find. If it has been many years since you last saw your aunt—”

“—Great aunt,” Liliana said.

“Great aunt, yes,” the nurse said, before bowing in apology. “But, as I was saying, if it has been many years since you last saw your great aunt, then you may be in for a bit of a shock.” The head nurse paused, and appeared to choose her next words carefully. “Her mind is still clear, and her tongue remains sharp – or at least it does when she’s able to speak. But her health is in rapid decline. This latest stroke, in particular, has frozen much of her body.” The nurse shook her head, and sighed. “She tires easily, I fear, and she has little time left.”

“That being the case, I will keep my remembrances brief,” Liliana said.

“It would be for the best,” the nurse said, and nodded. “Still, I am sure it will do her a power of good to see you.”

“Yes,” Liliana said, “I am sure that it will.”

“Just ring the bell when you are done,” the nurse said, “and I will come and collect you.” Then she drew the curtain aside, and bid Liliana to enter.

The room behind the curtain was small, and sparse. There was a window facing the courtyard, with the shutters drawn wide, to admit the fresh air from outside. There was a long, wooden chest – for bedlinens, most likely – and a half-moon table, fixed with screws to the wall. The on top of the table lay a pair of glass vases, filled with stems of red roses – one bunch a bit wilted, the other still fresh – which gave the room a splash of color and fragrance. The only other furniture was a three-legged stool, and the low, wooden bed.

With her foot, Liliana drew the stool up next to the bed, but she did not sit. Instead, she stood, staring down at withered, wretched form of the revered mother, who lay helpless before her. The woman’s once-powerful face – which Liliana still saw in her dreams – had been split down the middle, so that, while the left side retained some ghost of its former authority, the right side lay sunken, and drooped, with a thin trail of spittle dangling from the corner of its downturned lip. The woman’s hair – which had once been black as nightshade – was wispy, and more yellow than white, like the color of old parchment, where it curls up at the edges.

Liliana could sense the old woman staring up at her, from behind cloudy-white cataracts, and the revered mother tried to raise her head to get a better look at her visitor, but could not summon the strength.

“You’ve aged terribly,” Liliana said, taking little pain to hide her delight.

For a while, then, she fell silent, as she waited for the revered mother to speak. But the woman said nothing, and Liliana frowned.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” the planeswalker said, feeling a bit put out, before shaking her head. “But then, of course, you wouldn’t, would you? Not when you’re lying there like that, all shriveled up like a prune, and here I am, standing before you, as fresh as the day we met.” She again shook her head. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Liliana walked over to the half-moon table, where she drew one of the fresh cut roses from its vase.

“Maybe this will refresh your memory,” she said, and, with a sharp flick of her wrist, she lashed long, woody stem across her open palm, so that it cracked like a whip. “Recant, young Vess,” she said, in a parody of the revered mother’s once-fearsome voice. “Recant!” And she lashed herself again.

From somewhere behind the old woman’s cataracts, a glint of recognition flickered, where Liliana saw it, and smiled.

“Ah,” the planeswalker said, “and now you remember.” She paused to suck at the sting on her palm, where a thorn from the rose had drawn blood. Then she slid the dying bloom back into the vase, where it stood out from the rest of the flowers – a patch of black among red.

The revered mother opened her mouth to speak, but Liliana silenced her forever with a spell, and all that came out from her mouth was a low, lopsided rattle.

“You had your chance to speak, long ago,” Liliana said. “Now it’s my turn.” And she sat down on the stool, leaning in close, so that the old woman had no choice but to look at her.

Liliana’s palm was still bleeding, and she glanced down at the wound with a laugh.

“Here I am, after all these years,” she said. “Sister Liliana, the little heretic – only not so little anymore.” She sucked at the cut, and smiled. “If heresy could be beaten out of a girl with stern words and a salted lash, then, my dearest mother, you would have done it. But I think we both know it’s not quite so simple as that, now don’t we?”

Another unintelligible rattle came from the withered woman’s mouth, and Liliana patted the woman’s patchy hair in a facsimile of care.

“You know what I remember,” she said, “when I think back to those days? I remember how terrified you were, by the darkness you saw inside me. And I remember how excited I was, about what I knew I could become, if only I could escape your strictures.” Liliana’s smile widened. “Well, it turns out we were both of us right. And there’s something poetical about that, I think.”

Liliana sensed movement out of the corner of her eye, and she glanced down to see the revered mother’s functioning arm scrabbling for the bell pull. But Liliana brushed the old woman’s arm aside, and, gathering the bell rope in her own hand, she tucked it safely out of reach.

“If only you knew the number of times I’ve thought about coming back to this world, just to kill you,” Liliana said, her tone of voice still friendly – for the sake of anyone who might be passing outside – even as her words grew cold, and sharp, like a razor glinting through silk. “You ought to be flattered, really, by the amount of thought I’ve given you in my dreams.”

Liliana leaned in close, so that she whispered in the old woman’s ear.

“But then I thought to myself: ‘No, Liliana, that would be to quick, and too easy. She doesn’t deserve as much kindness as that. How much better to let old age take her, instead? To let her wither away, to see her dignities stripped from her, one-by-one, until her last days are passed in pain and decrepitude, so that she will know the same terror and helplessness that you once felt?’” Then Liliana drew back, so that she faced the old woman, and smiled. “And, you know something, revered mother? I was right. This is so much better.”

Liliana stood from the stool, and she smoothed-out her dress.

“I’ll leave you to reflect upon that, revered mother,” she said. “And you will have rather a long time to reflect. I shall have a word with the nurse, on my way out, and I have several potions which I shall prescribe, with which she may keep you alive for some time.”

Then Liliana shrugged, and pursed her lips in faux concern.

“Of course, you can’t live forever,” she said. “That privilege, revered mother, is reserved for we few, and you are not among our number. But do not think that you will be free of me, when your time inevitably comes. For, you see, as the last of your living kin, I have made arrangements with the head nurse to collect your body from these halls, after you pass.” Liliana smiled. “And death, my dear revered mother, is only the beginning of your repayment to me.”

Then she knelt down one more time, to whisper once more into the withered woman’s ear.

“Which of us is God now, dear mother?” she said. “And which of us the heretic?”

Then Liliana kissed the old woman’s forehead, and pulled the bell to call the nurse.

“Think upon that,” she said, “as you dream.”

#nanowrimo

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