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monkeyandelf · 5 months

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The world is in turmoil: Stephen Hawking's predictions have already begun to come true

Stephen Hawking was a genius, one of the greatest physicists and writer of his time. Back in 1963, doctors predicted that he had no more than 2 years to live. He died in 2018, having lived 76 years, winning a Nobel Prize and authoring an incredible number of scientific papers. He derived an equation that literally describes the entire structure of the universe (the wave function equation). He proved that the universe arose from a singularity - an infinitely small volume of infinitely large density spontaneously. Because there is such a force as gravity, the Universe could and did create itself out of nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason why the Universe exists, why we exist. Stephen Hawking To say that he was smart is to say nothing. And today we will learn about the professor’s seven predictions, which he left for us after his death.

Aliens exist. And it would be better for us not to meet with them

For my mathematical brain, the numbers alone are enough to accept the existence of aliens. This is something very rational The Universe is incredibly huge, in it there are a huge number of galaxies containing billions of planetary systems so old that they would not only have time to give rise to intelligent life, but also to do this much earlier, literally billions of years earlier than man appeared. Can you imagine such a colossal difference in development? What is such a civilization capable of? Are they comparable to the gods?

Aliens attacking Earth. According to Hawking, one should not mindlessly send signals into space and if we ourselves receive such a signal, we should not respond to it. Otherwise, the Earth may become a victim of “space marauders,” as the American Indians became when they met the Europeans.

Artificial intelligence threatens humanity

This was stated not only by Hawking, but also by Musk and others. We already live in an era of limited artificial intelligence used for domestic and military purposes. It is obvious that in the next 3 years, AI will be able to write novels as well as the best writers, while simultaneously discovering new laws of physics. It's a genie out of a bottle. We need to move forward and develop artificial intelligence, but we also need to remember that it is truly dangerous. I'm afraid that AI might replace humans altogether. If people develop computer viruses, someone will develop AI that replicates itself. It will be a new form of life that will be superior to humans. Stephen Hawking Will humanity be able to coexist with artificial intelligence in a single space? Time will answer this because it is no longer possible to return everything back by canceling AI.

The emergence of superman

As soon as scientists create opportunities for improving human bodies, available for resources, a new aristocracy will appear - stronger, smarter creatures who live much longer than ordinary people. Those who can afford an upgrade will be superior to the “poor” in terms of their capabilities. Once superhuman beings appear, there will be serious political problems associated with unenhanced humans. Presumably they will either die out or become irrelevant. Instead, there will be a race of self-controlled beings, improving themselves at an ever-increasing rate. Stephen Hawking The history of humanity as we know it is coming to an end. One way or another, in one or two generations, an ordinary person will be replaced by either AI or an artificially improved superman. The future of our race is predetermined.

Time travel is impossible

Time travel. Everything is simple here. If crowds of tourists from another time do not roam among us, it means that in the future, even if very distant, it was not possible to assemble a time machine. By the way, I have experimental proof that time travel is impossible. One time, I threw a party for time travelers. I sent the invitations the next day. I sat there for a long, long time, and waited. But no one came. Stephen Hawking

Death of civilization

Hawking, like Musk now, said back in 2010 that we shouldn’t spend too much time studying the small habitable ball on which we now live. It is necessary to concentrate all resources on space expansion - the settlement of other worlds. Otherwise, humanity risks disappearing due to some single catastrophe on a planetary scale. We cannot look only inwards at a small, increasingly polluted and overcrowded planet... If we manage to survive the next few hundred years, we will have to expand into space. Then an isolated disaster won't wipe out the entire human race. Stephen Hawking

Dangers of the Internet

Dangers of the Internet. Stephen Hawking predicted an economic danger that could cause social catastrophe. The fact is that owners of information and entertainment resources on the Internet receive super-profits at relatively low costs. Because of this, there is a large class gap and a person’s dangerous desire to enter this business. Just like during the era of the Gold Rush in the United States, the greatest profits were made by sellers of shovels and other equipment. Now literally all of humanity is trying to earn easy money on the Internet.

Laboratory virus

We all remember the end of 2019 - the beginning of 2020, when the whole world was paralyzed by a new virus that came out of a laboratory. Hawking predicted that such cases would not only occur, but become more frequent. Literally, an existential threat to human existence. In the long term, I'm more concerned about biology. To create nuclear weapons, large enterprises are needed, but genetic engineering can be done in a small laboratory. But you can’t keep track of every laboratory. So the danger is that, whether by accident or design, we might create a virus that will destroy us. Stephen Hawking Of course, the scientist’s predictions are not similar to the ominous prophecies of the mystics of the Middle Ages. There are no fiery mountains falling from the sky, rivers of blood and pale horsemen. But everything is very specific. Not much time has passed since the scientist's death, but the predictions have already begun to come true. It's scary to think what will happen next! Read the full article

#AI #StephenHawking

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

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We're launching steady attacks on all of these idiots we're concentrating on the ones that are stuck to you and others that seemingly aren't we find out that they they think that you're the key to something and in a way you are so I explained it to us one more time it's saying the election of duty negligence and more and boarding on criminal so we started paying attention now we're really paying attention because what they're saying they don't care about this they don't care about that they don't care about businesses being taken over in whole and they're talking about the shell and this is what they're after on the basis and Tommy f has almost to Monopoly you took five bases back for Mac he has all of them except for five and well the 200 we took is now turning to 300 so the pressure is increasing on him and his are going out after stuff launching attacks on them and their country and we're launching attacks on all of them so they won't have ability to attack anybody no we needed all this and it's huge and we're building up to hopefully overcome shortly or rather soon but we have an emergency here in punta Gorda they keep on messing with his bowels and they keep on filling them up with stuff that's not necessarily perfectly good timing to do this is what I'm saying he knows he did a treatment and he ran it through it feels fine and it's working anymore of this Cherry stuff and be back where he started as borderline problematic anyways he did a good job this morning at countering it and I want to keep it up and I don't want to hear anybody saying no and I didn't just either but that's okay I understand that pressure and it's raining but there are a few things that are making my stomach turn if we keep on attacking him ourselves to help him and that's not how you help him someone stop moving around to prove it you keep saying and you're wrong very wrong and we traced it down to a few people and countries in his own people do all sorts of stupid things in the maneuvers and it looks like a tax but they are they're covered and these people are using it and against him and we can't have them doing it so having a meeting to talk about how these people react and what they react to and to tell them look they've got them down he doesn't need any help getting down you got him with a bunch of warts in digestions impossible getting stuff to himself is hard as money is poor if not abysmal is depending on social security which is a question has they say and we force it so it's kind of rickety if anything this is an emergency here and I'm stating it you'll see finally broke down and said this is way too much for me I'm a young guy and they just keep pouring it on there's nothing I can do I can kill them and I can get away with it but then they started up again The horizon the bad mouthing the poverty so I heard it all and seen it all and they just continue to harass one person who's extremely valuable to them it means something and I found out what it is today they intend to find us by harassing and we know it and we've seen it for years and we're counting it for years now they're going nobody can survive in the factories of your kind or ours were only our demons so our people are being cleared out and evacuating by us and you people keep attacking just about everywhere like mindless assholes you finally have release so we're taking you down most of you can't handle a day of action and end up dead because you haven't done anything for years. All this is going on and her son is stuck and we don't have any saturation level at all for the most part it's completely unacceptable it's bordering on negligence

Was seeing what we just saw a hundreds of times the clone would rather die than talk and it's going on all over the world these people are dedicated and there's a problem with that they're sitting on the shadow dome and tunnels go near it to get to the base it sits above on the Red Hill or the silent Hill and we're going to take them down we don't have any more time to talk about it we have about 300 bases and they're large and medium and they're not small and they're not medium small they're they're good size bases and their hours and we're firing on Corky to the last idiot so he just starts refilling right away and we're taking all sorts of ammo from the other ones to let them be overrun and we're going to continue to do so and we're disabling their cloning but nobody's going to be able to tell I don't even continue to use it they don't even care cuz they're so dumb we can't tell who's running what they don't know what Ultraman is they can't tell what Galactus is and Galactica and ultra women they're going to take advantage of it until the day is ours and we have to appearance but he's asking permission because he's sitting there on purpose and he said anything and he said he was and he's going to get money for tomorrow and maybe checks and just drop these off and that's it there's all sorts of reasons to do that you're a huge pain in the ass he doesn't want to pay in the ass you're massive assholes he doesn't want to deal with your a****** stuff no I'm staying there's an emergency here and there is we need to calm these people down get them out of our face and his and tell them they're running their program and that our son is not to be touched and no uncertain terms and if he is will be hell to pay.

We're invading this area now there are several things that will force it and we must get it done but I'm telling mine and ours it's an emergency and I need you to pay attention and I need to have emergency troops here now and I will tell you why in a moment

Thor Freya

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tarobytez · 3 years

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disability in the Six Of Crows Duology; an analysis of Kaz Brekker, Wylan Van Eck, and the fandom’s treatment of them.

****Note: I originally wrote this for a tiktok series, which im still going to do, but i wanted to post here as well bc tumblr is major contributor to what im going to talk about

CW: ableism, filicide, abuse

In the Six of Crows duology, Leigh Bardugo delicately subverts and melds harmful disability tropes into her narrative, unpacking them in a way that I, as a disabled person, found immensely refreshing and…. just brilliant.

But what did you all do with that? Well, you fucked it up. Instead of critically looking at the characters, y’all just chose to be ableist.

For the next few videos paragraphs im going to unpack disability theory (largely the stuff surrounding media, for obvious reasons) and how it relates to Six Of Crows and the characterization of Kaz Brekker and Wylan Van Eck, then how, despite their brilliant writing, y’all completely overlooked the actual text and continuously revert them to ableist cariactures.

Disclaimer: 1. Shocker - i am disabled. I have also extensively researched disability theory and am very active in the disabled community. Basically, I know my shit. 2. im going to be mad in these videos this analysis. Because the way y’all have been acting has been going on for a long ass time and im fuckin sick of it. I don’t give a shit about non-disabled feelings, die mad

Firstly, I’m going to discuss Kaz, his play on the stereotypical “mean cripple” trope and how Bardugo subverts it, his cane, and disabled rage. Then, I am going to discuss Wylan, the “inspiration porn” stereotype, caregivers / parents, and the social model of disability. Finally, I will then explain the problems in the fandom from my perspective as a disabled person, largely when it comes to wylan, bc yall cant leave that boy tf alone.

Kaz Brekker

Think of a character who uses a cane (obviously not Kaz). Now, are they evil, dubiously moral, or just an asshole in general? Because nearly example I can think of is: whether it be Lots’O from Toy Story, Lucius Malfoy, or even Scrooge and Mr.Gold from Once Upon A Time all have canes (the last two even having their canes appear less and less as they become better people)

The mean/evil cripple trope is far more common than you would think. Villains with different bodies are confined to the role of “evil”. To quote TV Tropes, who I think did a brilliant job on explaining it “The first is rooted in eugenics-based ideas linking disability or other physical deformities with a "natural" predisposition towards madness, criminality, vice, etc. The Rule of Symbolism is often at work here, since a "crippled" body can be used to represent a "crippled" soul — and indeed, a disabled villain is usually put in contrast to a morally upright and physically "perfect" hero. Whether consciously on the part of the writer or not, this can reinforce cultural ideas of disability making a person inherently inferior or negative, much in the same way the Sissy Villain or Depraved Homosexual trope associate sexual and gender nonconformity with evil. ”

Our introduction to Kaz affirms this notion of him being bad or morally bankrupt, with “Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason”, etc. This mythologized version of himself, the “bastard of the barrel” actively fed into this misconception. But, as we the audience are privy to his inner thoughts, know that he is just a teenager like every other Crow. He is complex, his disability isn’t this tragic backstory, he just fell off a roof. It’s not his main motivation, nor does he curse revenge for making him a cripple - it is just another part of who he is.

His cane (though the shows version fills me with rage but-) is an extension of Kaz - he fights with it, but it has a purpose. Another common thing in media is for canes to be simply accessories, but while Kaz’ cane is fashionable, it has purpose.

The quote “There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.” is so fucking powerful. Kaz does not want nor need a cure - its said in Crooked Kingdom that his leg could most likely be healed, but he chooses not to. Abled-bodied people tend to dismiss this thought as Kaz being stubborn but it shows a reality of acceptance of his disability that is just, so refreshing.

In chapter 22 of SOC, we see disabled rage done right - when he is called a cripple by the Fjerdan inmate, Kaz is pissed - the important detail being that he is pissed at the Fjerdan, at society for ableism, not blaming it on being disabled or wishing he could be normal. He takes action, dislocating the asshole’s shoulder and proving to him, and to a lesser extent, himself, that he is just as capable as anyone else, not in spite of, but because he is disabled. And that is the point of Kaz, harking back to the line that “there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken”.

I cried on numerous occasions while reading the SOC duology, but the parts I highlighted in this section especially so. I, as many other disabled people do, have had a long and tumultuous relationship with our disability/es, and for many still struggle. But Kaz Brekker gave me an empowered disabled character who accepts themselves, and that means the world to me.

Keeping that in mind, I hope you can understand why it hurts so much to disabled people when you either erase Kaz’s disability (whether through cosplay or fanfiction), or portray him as a “broken boy uwu”, especially implying that he would want a cure. That flies in the face of canon and is inherently fucking ableist. (if u think im mad wait until the next section)

Next, we have Wylan.

Oh fucking boy.

I love Wylan so fucking much, and y’all just do not seem to understand his character? Like at all? Since this is disability-centric, I’m not going to discuss how the intersection of his queerness also contributes to these issues, but trust me when I say it’s a contributing factor to what i'm going to say.

Wylan, motherfucking Van Eck. If you ableist pricks don’t take ur fucking hands off him right now im going to fight you. I see Wylan as a subversion another, and in my opinion more insidious stereotype pf disabled people - inspiration porn.

Cara Liebowitz in a 2015 article on the blog The Body Is Not An Apology explains in greater detail how inspiration porn is impactful in real life, but media is a major contributing factor to this reality. The technical definition is “the portrayal of people with disabilities as inspirational solely or in part on the basis of their disability” - but that does not cover it fully.

Inspiration porn does lasting damage on the disabled community as it implies that disability is a negative that you need to “overcome” or “triumph” instead of something one can feel proud of. It exploits disabled people for the development of non-disabled people, and in media often the white male protagonist. Framing disability as inherently negative perpetuates ideals of eugenics and cures - see Autism $peaks’ “I Am Autism” ad. Inspiration porn is also incredibly patronizing as it implies that we cannot take care of ourselves, or do things like non-disabled people do. Because i stg some of you tend to think that we just sit around all day wishing we weren’t disabled.

Another important theory ideal that is necessary when thinking about Wylan is the experience of feeling like a burden simply for needing help or accommodations. This is especially true when it comes to familial relationships, and internalized ableism.

The rhetoric that Wylan’s father drilled into his head, that he is “defective”, “a mistake”, and “needs to be corrected”, that he (Jan) was “cursed with a moron for a child” is a long held belief that disabled people hear relentlessly. And while many see Van Eck’s attempted murder of Wylan as “preposturous” and overall something that you would never think happens today - filicide (a parent murdering their child) is more common than you would like to believe. Without even mentioning the countless and often unreported deaths of disabled people due to lack of / insufficient / neglectful medical care, in a study on children who died from the result of household abuse, 40 of 42 of them (95%) were diagnosed with disabilities. Van Eck is not some caricature of ableist ideals - he is a real reflection on how many people and family members view disability.

Circling back to how Wylan unpacks the inspiration porn trope - he is 3 dimensional, he is not only used to develop the other characters, he is just *chefs kiss* Leigh, imo, put so much love and care into the creation of Wylan and his story and character growth that is representative of a larger feeling in the disabled community.

That being said, what you non-disabled motherfuckers have done to him.

The “haha Wylan can’t read” jokes aren’t and were not funny. Y’all literally boiled down everything Wylan is to him being dyslexic. And it’s like,,,, the only thing you can say about him. You ignore every other part of him other than his disability, and then mock him for it. There’s so much you can say about Wylan - simping for Jesper, being band kid and playing the fuckin flute, literally anything else. But no, you just chose to mock his disability, excellent fucking job!

Next up on “ableds stfu” - infantilization! y’all are so fucking condescending to Wylan, and treat him like a fucking toddler. And while partly it is due to his sexuality i think a larger portion is him being disabled. Its in the same vein of people who think that Wylan and Jesper are romantically one sided, and that Jesper only kind of liked Wylan, despite the canon evidence of him loving Wylan just as much. You all view him as a “smol bean”, who needs protecting, and care, when Wylan is the opposite of that. He is a fucking demolitions expert who suggested waking up sleeping men to kill them - what about that says “uwu”. You are treating Wylan as a burden to Jesper and the other Crows when he is an immensely valuable, fully autonomous disabled person - you all just view him as damaged.

And before I get a comment saying that “uhhh Wylan isn’t real why do you care” while Wylan may not be real, how you all view him and treat him has real fucking impacts and informs how you treat people like me. If someone called me an “uwu baby boy” they’d get a fist square in the fucking jaw. Fiction informs how we perceive the world and y’all are making it super fucking clear how you see disabled people.

Finally, I wanted to talk about how the social model of disability is portrayed through Wylan. For those who are unaware, the social model of disability contrasts the medical model, that views the disability itself as the problem, that needs to be cured, whereas the social model essentially boils down to creating an accommodating society, where disability acceptance and pride is the goal. And we see this with Wylan - he is able to manage his father’s estate, with Jesper’s assistance to help him read documents. And this is not out of pity or charity, but an act of love. It is not portrayed as this almighty act for Jesper to play saviour, just a given, which is incredibly important to show, especially for someone who has been abused by family for his disability like Wylan, that he is accepted.

Yet, I still see people hold up Jesper on a pedestal for “putting up with” Wylan, as if loving a disabled person deserves a fucking pat on the back. It’s genuinely exhausting trying to engage with a work I love so much with a fandom that thinks so little of me and my community. It fucking shows.

Overall, Leigh Bardugo as a disabled person wrote two incredibly meticulous and empowered disabled characters, and due to either lack of reading comprehension, ableism, or a quirky mix of both, the fandom has ignored canon and the experiences of disabled people for…. shits and giggles i guess. And yes, there are issues with the Grishaverse and disability representation - while I haven’t finished them yet so I do not have an opinion on it, people have been discussing issues in the KOS duology with ableist ideals. This mini series was no way indicative of the entire disabled experience, nor does it represent my entire view on the representation as a whole. These things need to be met critically in our community, and talked about with disabled voices at the forefront. For example, the limited perspective we get of Wylan and Kaz being both white men, does not account for a large portion of the disabled community and the intersection of multiple identities.

All-in-all, Critique media, but do not forget to also critique fandom spaces. Alternatively, just shut the fuck up :)

happy fucking disability pride month, ig

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tempenensis · 3 years

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Nanami: the duality(s) of man

Nanami Kento (七海建人) is arguably one of the more complex characters in jjk. A lot of contrasts are packed in one character, it’s actually amazing. And yet, he is still so relatable.

Nanami’s name in kanji is actually interesting. His family name, Nanami (七海) is written with “seven” (七) and “sea” (海) kanji, but it also can be read as “seven” (七 = nana) “three” (三 = mi), a suggestion to his cursed technique. His given name, Kento (建人), is written with “build” (建) and “man” (人) kanji.

1. Office worker and Grunt work

Nanami is introduced by Gojo as his peer and junior, a trusted and reliable friend. He is depicted in a full suit and tie, with neat haircut - nothing less than salaryman image Gojo calls him. Without his unique glasses, you won’t be able to differentiate him from common office worker. He’s the stiff seriousness formality in contrast to Gojo’s easy, overly friendly and overly informal attitude. Even during their first meeting, he demands a formal introduction from Itadori. He also returns Itadori’s formal introduction with one of his own, even if it’s used for comedic effect.

“Where moderate effort is sufficient, use moderate effort.”

His words in answer to Itadori’s excitement and going all out when the boy is finally getting his chance for mission in the field. Only people who is familiar with routine, boring works in office can say things like this. Routine work is indeed, sufficient with moderate effort, nothing anyone should exert too much effort. In addition, during combat or “work”, he is strict with his time allocation. At a glance, it looks like another part of his salaryman image - even if it is actually something else.

All these formal conducts are direct reflection of his nickname of an ex-salaryman. But compared to his image, his cursed technique is far from the image of an office worker.

Nanami’s innate technique is called Ratio cursed technique (十劃呪法 : Tookaku juuhou), where he forcibly creates a weak point in his opponent by dividing them into tenths and hit it on the critical point of seven-to-three. He uses a wide sword wrapped in seals for it. It is a technique that demand physical strength and excellent eye-hand coordination of the user - which are usually not attributed to office worker, but rather, manual laborer who uses their physical strength.

Unfortunately, I’m working overtime now

Here, the original text of Nanami’s Overtime Work is 時間外労働 (: jikangai roudou). 労働 (roudou) can be translated both as general term of working and manual labor. During Overtime work, the technique he uses is Collapse (瓦落瓦落 = garagara, literally “Tile fall”, but it’s also an onomatopoeia for rattling sound), which is fundamentally similar to Itadori’s attack - a physical blow from his fist infused with huge amount of cursed energy.

2. Anti-social and people-magnet

Nanami is someone who thought himself to be distanced from people, either normal people or the same jujutsushi, but in actual... well, people-magnet is not the right term but Nanami is someone who is attracted to people. He come off as stiff and cold, but he is highly empathic to others, just like Itadori.

Right on their first meeting, after introducing himself, Nanami said that he doesn’t acknowledge Itadori as a jujutsushi, because even if he doesn’t like it, he still follow the rules. He asks Itadori to prove himself despite housing Sukuna.

Itadori is Sukuna’s vessel. He should be executed immediately as per jujutsu rules. It’s only because Gojo’s protection that he still breathes, even get to be educated as jujutsushi. Not too long ago before this moment, he was killed by a special-grade that Gojo suspected to be a foul play from the upper management. And even after this, Itadori is targeted by other jujutsushi who want to kill him without first trying to know the human he actually is.

Nanami at the first glance looks like he is too serious, too fixated to the rules imposed to jujutsushi. However for Nanami, a rule-abiding jujutsushi, willing to cooperate with Itadori - the Sukuna’s vessel that others want to executed - on a mission, give him a chance to prove himself, and even teach him stuffs, speaks how he is actually not so cold-hearted as he makes himself to be.

At first, on the mission, they don’t get along. Itadori who can make friends with people he only just met in a heartbeat, has a hard time reading Nanami. Not only because of their different personality, but Nanami is also protecting Itadori as a child. For an adult to be able to see the Sukuna’s vessel as an actual child, even protecting him, it really speaks something.

And further down, he also protects Itadori as the more experienced jujutsushi. He wants to protect Itadori’s innocence as young jujutsushi as long as possible.

Itadori is highly empathic of other people. His motivation is to give people proper death - whoever they are. Nanami realizes this when Itadori gets angry about the transfigured human they fight in the cinema, that their death are wrong in his eyes. This mission is the worst early mission for Itadori - someone who is highly empathic but has to face an enemy that transfigure human. Killing people will hurt him emotionally. That is why Nanami forbid Itadori to go after Mahito with him.

Nanami works as jujutsushi after he retired from being an office worker. And before that, he ran away from jujutsu world because of the accident with Haibara. Haibara was his friend in the same grade who was killed one year after Hidden Inventory arc.

後は頼む (I’ll leave the rest to you)

It is possibly the final words that Haibara said to Nanami, making him realized how shitty jujutsushi are - as he was forced to abandon the live of his friend for the sake of other people. The death of Haibara hurt them badly - it did not only made Nanami run away from being a jujutsushi, but also the final push that made Getou finally stray from the “right path”.

And ever since, Nanami distanced himself from jujutsu world, and to an extent, people. He called his office job to be “out of human cycle” and poured all of himself into earning more money. He forced himself to be apathetic. It didn’t matter if he had money - or so he thought.

He just exorcised a small fry to make the baker’s feel better, but the emotional effect of the passing gratitude on Nanami is very deep. He stopped to be a jujutsushi because of people, but he also returned to be one because of people. He is even still empathic to transfigured human used by Mahito in their fight, despite claiming that he doesn’t bring his personal feeling to work.

3. Adult of adult

Finding more hair loss on your bedside, your favorite deli bread disappears from local convenience store... The accumulation of those little despairs is what makes someone an adult.

The way we move on from despairs, little or big, the way we accept it as part of ourselves, let it mold us to be the person that we are today. Nanami refers the “despairs” to come from the smallest things. But accumulation of small things can become a mountain - and vice versa, a mountain is accumulation of small rocks.

The death of Haibara is something that he has to "accumulate”, shaping Nanami to be the adult that he is and maybe even forcing him to be “an adult” earlier. Ijichi even calls Nanami 大人オブ大人 - adult among adults, due to his maturity despite being younger than Gojo. The way he protects Itadori as a child is mainly because he is still affected by this tragedy during his youth and doesn’t want Itadori to face the harsh reality of being a jujutsushi so early, as Itadori is still pretty new not only as jujutsushi, but also to the overall jujutsu world.

Unfortunately, the harsh reality decides to go right to Itadori’s doorstep - and the only thing Nanami can do is to trust Itadori to do the right thing, as he believes Itadori has what it takes to be a proper jujutsushi.

4. Greed and Acceptance

I am a human who never related to “things worth doing” or “things worth living for”. I’ll earn suitably until 3,40 years old, then I’ll enjoy living easily in country with low living cost.

Retiring early was Nanami’s main drive after he left Jujutsu high. He worked away from people and wanted to retire to a place also away, especially from his kind of people. And all that’s left for him to cling to is the greed to earn more money.

But Nanami is far from actually greedy. Being greedy implies to die with regrets and as Principal Yaga said, no jujutsushi dies without remorse. If Itadori won’t regret the way he lives, then Nanami is the person who is actually able to die without leaving any regrets. And that alone speaks how much closer and similar Nanami actually is to Itadori compared to others.

There are only a few moments Nanami smiles - and both instances are when he is on the verge of death. First before he was saved by Itadori (more accurately Sukuna) from Mahito’s domain, and then his actual last moment, he smiles as he passes his last words to Itadori. The same last words that Haibara said to him before his death.

I’ll leave the rest to you

From Haibara to Nanami, from Nanami to Itadori. He passes this words with heavy feeling, as it will “curse” Itadori to keep moving, to keep being a jujutsushi and walk in this harsh reality. It is not something that Nanami want Itadori to face - even young Nanami couldn’t bear the burden of being jujutsushi.

But this is the path that they have decided to walk on, and the way of living that they won’t - and in Nanami’s case didn’t - regret. And the only option left for Itadori is to continue walking on this path with all its harsh reality.

And now, Itadori is “cursed”.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #brain vomit #character analysis #jjk meta #jjk manga spoilers #yes i cried #tags please don't fail me now

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

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Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?”

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.”

His wife looked quite pleased with herself.

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.”

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.”

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-”

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.”

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?”

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?”

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out.

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live.

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.”

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.”

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because.

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili.

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction.

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.”

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...”

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting.

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.”

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child.

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere.

#hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Pogues x OC, Eventually JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Changed my update schedule to two times a week (probably Sunday and Wednesdays) because three days was kind of overwhelming hahah. Again, thank you for all the wonderful reviews and feedback!! I appreciate every single one!!!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Being shot at?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

The Pogues come over later to hang out like usual. No one mentions last night's party. I don't know whether its because they don't want to talk about it or we're pretending like it never happened. I'm fine with either.

I sit next to Kie who taps her fingers on a bongo and bobs her head to her own beat. Pope's shuffling a deck of cards to my right and JJ sips on another beer across from me. It's hard to concentrate on what they're talking about. I'm too busy locked in my own head, thinking about what Peterkin said - foster care - what life would be like if we were taken away. Would I ever see my friends again? Would John B and I be in the same foster home? The thought of being separated makes me sick.

"Look, I'm calling it off. All right?" John B pulls me out of my thoughts. JJ rolls his eyes at my brother and glances at me. "Peterkin said if we stay out of the marsh, she'll help us with DCS."

"And you believed her?" JJ asks. "An actual cop, John B. You believed a cop."

John B sighs. "All I gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days, and she'll help me out. It doesn't help that your ass was the one shooting a gun."

Here we go.

"You know what I should have done? Just let Topper drown your ass."

"Topper was gonna drown me?"

"Sure looked like it."

"Funny," John B deadpans.

"Have you looked in a mirror?"

"Tell me some more. Come on." I can tell by the look on John B's face that he's getting annoyed. It's pinched and he keeps rolling his eyes.

JJ steps closer to him. "They always win, don't they, man? Kooks versus Pogues. They always, always win!" He turns around and punches one of the small volleyballs we have tied in a string like a decoration.

"Look, it's okay!" Kie tries to calm him down.

"No, it's not okay! It's not! They don't want us to go down into the marsh." JJ comes back. "That means there's something valuable down there, and you know it." He turns to me and points. "I know you do." Then he looks at Pope. "I know you do. And I understand why you don't wanna go. You're the golden boy. You got way too much to risk. And you -" He turns to Kie. "I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother? But you and me, and Marleigh, man, we got nothing to lose! We really don't all right?"

"JJ -" I sigh.

"And I know it didn't use to be that way for you -"

John B shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about it!"

"So that's it?"

John B shoves past JJ. "Just get out of my way, bro."

"John B, listen to me. I have a plan." Well thats never good. "You got the key to Cameron's big boat right?"

"No," John B says, already knowing where JJ's head is at.

"There's scuba gear. We borrow that, and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon, and that is what's gonna save you, man. You don't see rich kids going into foster care, do you?"

Here's the thing about JJ. He can be really convincing, which is usually the reason he and I get into the most trouble. Because I always fall for what he's saying. He gives me hope when I don't think there is any. He can be surprisingly optimistic sometimes. And when he is, I fall for his charm and agree with everything he says. If he told me to jump off a bridge, I probably would.

When he looks at me, my lips tug upwards into a smile. This creates a domino effect, and soon the other Pogues get excited. John B looks at me, trying to look disapproving but I shrug in response. I mean, JJ's right. What do we have to lose?

~ ~ ~

I light a match and ignite my gas stove to make myself lunch. A can of chicken noodle soup that's been in my food closet for who knows how long. John B left to grab the tanks from the Cameron's boat, so the rest of us are waiting here until he comes to pick us up.

"You're eating soup? Its like a hundred degrees outside." JJ walks into the kitchen and lifts himself up on the counter next to the stove.

I stir the liquid around with a wooden spoon and smirk. "Do you see any other edible food around here?" JJ chuckles at that. He knows better than anyone how horrible John B and I are at food shopping. "I meant to go to the store today but..." I sigh. "I've been busy."

JJ pauses, causing me to look up at him. He's usually so quick with his wit and humor. Something I admire and love about him. How he always manages to put a smile on my face with some dumb remark or a sarcastic reply. Only now he's staring at me with curiosity. "Are you okay?"

"You mean other than the impending doom that is foster care that's going to hit me and John B in the near future?" I say sarcastically. I turn the stove off and grab two bowls out of the cabinet behind JJ's head. He ducks for me and my waist presses against his thigh. I pour half the soup in each bowl and hand him one with a spoon.

"Yeah, I mean other than that," JJ says. I blow on the liquid on my spoon to cool it down. The steam that comes up from my bowl already makes me feel hot.

"I'm fine," I tell him.

He gives me a look that says he's doesn't believe me, but I ignore it and he doesn't press me on it. Truth is, I am fine. I just have a lot of my mind but I'm going to do my best not to let it ruin my summer. JJ got me excited again. He's promising an adventure and possibly a fortune. He's right. John B and I have nothing to lose. If we don't go on the marsh today, DCS will find another reason to snatch us. So why hold ourselves back?

"Mar, JJ, he's back!" Kie calls out to us from my yard.

JJ sips the last of his broth out of the bowl and I shovel in the last couple of scoops into my mouth. We throw the bowls in the sink and run to the dock where John B and the others are waiting for us.

Pope directs John B to the part of the marsh where we found the wreck. I sit next to Kie in the front of the boat. She's looking at the two tanks that John B was able to snag off the Cameron's boat. Her brows are furrowed in confusion as she studies the gear.

"This is empty," Kie says, looking up at my brother who stops the boat when we find the sunken Grady-White. "You took empty tanks?"

"I..." John B says slowly. He definitely didn't look at it before he took it.

"Okay, this one's a quarter full," Kie says, pulling the tank to her left closer to her. "Its enough for one of us."

"Love it when a plan comes together," I say sarcastically and pass a look to JJ who rolls his eyes.

"Does anybody know how to dive?" Kie asks.

I purse my lips and look around at my friends and brother. None of them speak up.

"Uh..."

"Anybody?" Kie asks.

"It's kind of a Kook sport," I say.

Pope raises his hand. "I...read about it."

"Great, Pope read about it so someone's gonna die," Kie says.

JJ walks towards us and picks up the mouth piece and shrugs his shoulders. "Look, you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?"

Pope answers, "If you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends."

JJ glances between Pope and the rest of us. "Bends like..." JJ bends forward, purposely sticking his butt out, "bend over and..."

Pope cuts him off. "The bends kill you."

JJ snaps straight up. "Right."

I roll my eyes and stand up. "I'll do it."

"Uh, I don't think..." JJ starts to say but my brother cuts him off.

"No. I'll do it."

"What, why?" I turn to my brother and send him a glare.

"Because Pope just said it can kill you and you don't listen to instructions very well." My brother glares back at me. I roll my eyes. He does have a point and evidence to prove it. I usually follow my own gut and ignore others' directions. And because I don't want him to bring up past events, I decide not to fight him on it.

"He has a point," JJ says, earning a punch in the bicep from me. He looks at my brother. "You can dive. I'm cool with that."

"Since when can you dive?" Kie says not liking the idea any more than me.

He shrugs. "I'll do it. It's fine."

"Let me do some calculations real quick," Pope says as John B starts putting on the scuba gear.

"You serious?" JJ asks.

"That boat's about thirty feet down. Okay? So it'll take twenty five minutes at that depth. Twenty five. Which means you need to make your safety stop at about...ten feet."

Contrary to popular belief, I do the actual listening to instructions, I just don't always follow through. But I process everything Pope just said and think of a way to make this easier for John B.

I shimmy out of my jean shorts and pull my top over my head, leaving me in a purple and white striped bikini. Without saying anything, I jump into the water with my shirt.

"Uh..." Pope says, looking into the water where I just disappeared. "What was that about?"

"I don't know. But I liked it. A lot," JJ says, staring at the same spot. John B slaps the back JJ's head and glares daggers in his direction. JJ pretends to clear his throat and turns away from John B. "Uh, so..."

Pope pretends to focus on his calculations again, not wanting to get caught by John B for staring at his sister too. "Yeah. Uh, when you uh, when you're down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?"

I guesstimate how deep ten feet is and tie my shirt around the chain attached to our anchor. I look one last time at the blurry image of the sunken boat and pull myself back up.

"Hey," I say to grab their attention. They all look at me. "I tied my T-shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down. It's where you need to do your safety stop."

John B nods. "Cool."

I stay in the water, loving how the water feels around me like a protective blanket. I listen to Pope explain the important parts of diving. There's some kind of meter he has to pay attention to to keep track of time.

"Okay, how much do I need?" John B asks.

"Unclear," Pope answers. "Breathe as little as possible."

JJ slaps John B on the shoulder. "Zen. Think zen, you know?"

John B turns to the water, preparing to jump in next to me. "Yeah. Got it."

"Hey," Pope says, stopping him. "If we get caught in the marsh, we're basically screwed, so better get a move on."

"No pressure or anything," I add.

"Copy that," John B says.

Kie approaches my brother and stands in front of him. She's really close to him, almost inches away from his face. Then she leans in and kisses his cheek slowly. Way more intimate than usual. My eyes widen in surprise and I look at Pope and JJ to see their reaction. They mirror mine.

"Diver down?" Kie says softly.

"Diver down." John B says just as softly.

"See ya, dude," JJ says.

John B jumps in the water and sinks down below me. I lay on my back in the water and bathe in the warmth of the sun above me. I even close my eyes, letting relaxation overcome me. I could probably sleep here if I wanted too.

"Shit, JJ," Pope curses, catching my attention.

"Guys, that's the police," Kie says.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," JJ says, glancing at me.

My eyes go wide with anxiety. I swim closer to the boat and look up at JJ. "JJ, they can't know I'm here. If they find me-"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's gonna be okay. They're not going to, just stay there."

I nod and press myself tighter against the boat.

"Just act freaking normal," Kie says through clenched teeth.

I can hear the sirens coming closer until I feel their boat bump against ours. I flinch against it and kick my feet faster to stay afloat. I look down at the water, but I can't see John B. My heart races at the thought of him running out of air.

"Evening," I hear one of the cops greet my friends.

"JJ, tie it off," Pope says.

"How you kids doing? You know the marsh is closed?" The officer asks them.

"No."

"No. Wow."

My friends play dumb. I look up, finding comfort in seeing JJ's long hair. I can tell he's trying hard not to look down at me.

"Why - why is it closed?" Pope asks.

"Well, we're conducting a search out here. Boat went down." The officer explains.

"Oh."

"See anything?"

"No." JJ purses his lips and shrugs.

"No boats," Kie says. "No."

There's a pause and for a split second I think he's gonna call their bluff. But he doesn't. "Where are the other two kids you always hang with? The twins? They here?"

I bite my bottom lip hard in anticipation for what's to come. He knows we're here. He has to. I can tell by how suspicious he sounds. I look back down in the water, John B still invisible to me. I don't know how much time he has left, but he's definitely running out of it.

"They both had to work," I hear Kie answer.

"Hm," The officer hums. "I'm gonna check your little boat out."

Shit, shit, shit, shit. I look around for a place to hide, but the only thing surrounding me is water. I'm going to have to go under.

"Yeah." JJ coughs, risking one last look at me before pretending to help the officer into the boat. "Yeah, hop aboard."

I push myself under the water and swim directly underneath the boat. I open my eyes, ignoring the sting of the salt water. I can see John B's silhouette by my T-shirt and the blurry light of his timer.

Thirty more seconds pass. I swing my arms upwards, pushing myself deeper into the water. The shadow of the cops' boat is still next to ours. My lungs are screaming at me for for air like they're tearing into my chest. Just like John B, I don't know how long I'm going to be able to last down here.

My body reactively gulps for air, forcing myself to swallow the salt water. It feels like a stab in my chest, my throat on fire. I've got to pop back up to the surface or I'm going to drown.

Just as I'm about to reveal myself, the shadow of the boat drives off. I push myself up, coughing up the water I swallowed and gasping for air. Less than a second later, John B pops up next to me.

"Oh, god! Jesus Christ," Kie says with her eyes closed and her head looking up.

"Don't scare us like that!" Pope says.

JJ watches me instead of John B, concern laced into his features. As I feel my heart go back to its normal pace, I smile at him and laugh the anxiety off. "You good?" He asks me. I nod and let him help me back up to the boat. "How'd it go down there?" He asks my brother. "Did you find anything?"

"Did I find anything?" John B scoffs and holds up a dark velvet bag.

"Yeah, there we go!" JJ claps his shoulders. "That's my boy!"

"Jeez, dude," Pope sighs.

"You okay?" Kie asks John B.

John B pants as he swims closer to the boat. "Yeah, I ran out of air."

"You and me both," I tell him.

John B pulls himself up. When he stands, he's met face to face with Kie who shoves him back playfully. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah, the cops were up here, but, uh...we took care of 'em." Pope says, trying to act like he wasn't going to piss his pants the entire time he was talking to them.

"My bad," John B laughs.

"You're all good."

"Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother," JJ says.

I move to the back of the boat to ring my wet hair out when something catches me eye. Its another boat, but it doesn't look like the one the cops were just using.

"Hey, guys? Guys!" I call louder to grab their attention. "Bogey, two o'clock."

"What?" JJ comes up next to me and eyes the boat that's making its way closer to us.

"Do you recognize the boat?" Pope asks.

"I've never seen it," I answer.

A bad feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. I can make out two people, I think men, standing in the front. They keep their eyes straight on us. No laughing or talking like a couple of buds would on a boat day in the marsh.

"What are they doing here? The marsh is closed," Kie says.

"Let's not stick around and find out." JJ places his hands on my bare waist and pulls me to the side so he can pull up the anchor.

"JJ get the bowline," John B says, not realizing that JJ was already on it.

"Yeah."

"Should we wait on 'em?" Pope asks.

"No. No. We should leave now. Right now," Kie says, looking directly at John B.

"Go get the stern," John B tells me. "Go!"

I kneel next to JJ and help him. Similar to how I felt in the water, my heart beats violently against my chest and my breathing becomes static. I try not to think of the fear that creeps through my veins as I help release the boat from it's hold in the marsh.

"Guys, don't wait for us! Go!" JJ yells.

"Go!" Kie says.

"Pull out the stern!" Pope yells at us.

I yank the chain hard, revealing the slimy anchor covered in seaweed and moss.

"I don't like this," I mutter to JJ between clenched teeth.

John B pulls away from the wreck. JJ looks between me and the boat that still driving in our direction. "Are they coming for us?"

"Maybe they're fishing," Pope says.

"Go, go, go, go!"

"Go into the marsh," I tell my brother, constantly glancing between him and the other boat.

"Let's go," Kie says. I can hear fear creep into her voice and her hands shake around the drivers seat she's holding with a death grip.

"I'm going. Act natural!" John B hisses and revs the engine of the boat.

He takes a left turn into the marsh. I watch anxiously for the people in the other boat to make its move.

They turn left.

"Guys, they're following us!" Kie says.

"This can't be good," Pope says.

"Dude, you gotta go faster!" JJ says.

"I'm going!" John B yells back.

"Gun it!"

I look behind the boat. They're getting closer. Too close. Can't say I'm surprised. The HMS Pogue is no match for their boat that looks more expensive than my house. However, something catches my eye. Something long the guy in the passenger seat is holding and pointing right at us.

"Is that..." I mutter before I'm cut off by exactly what I was going to say.

The gun shot rings through my ears as if the person who shot it was standing next to me. Before I can react, JJ pulls me down to the floor of our boat by my waist and covers me with his own body. I gotta say, this isn't how I pictured him being on top of me. His left arm outlines my head, keeping me face down while other bullets pass our boat. The cries of my friends are dull through the blood pounding in my ears and my heart inching its way up my throat.

"Holy shit!" Kie shouts.

"John B, get down!" JJ yells.

I try looking up at my brother but JJ's hold is strong. John B's still behind the wheel, trying his best to duck from bullets without crashing the boat.

"We're gonna die!" Pope yells.

I try looking around the boat for anything we can use against these guys. Of course JJ decides to leave the gun he stole at my house for the day, leaving us practically useless against these two strangers.

My eyes find a net pooling in front of Kie's face as she keeps her head down. I try crawling out of JJ's embrace which only makes him tighten his arms around me.

"Kie!" I shout. She looks up at me with wide eyes. "The net!"

Immediately she understands what I'm trying to tell her. She pulls herself away from Pope and army crawls to the wide net. This only makes my friends yell at her, telling her to get down, but she doesn't listen.

"Get down, Kie!" John B shouts.

Another gun shot echoes through the air, making me flinch closer into JJ.

Kie throws the net overboard towards their boat and drops back down to her knees. The sound of the other boat's engine clanging against the net gets my head to perk up and I watch Kie's reaction. She's surprisingly smiling. When she looks at me, she lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head in disbelief because that just worked. Their boats gets stuck.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go," Pope says.

One last gun shot rings through my ears before we make our getaway. I pull myself off the floor and look back at the boat one last time. We severely underestimated how important finding that boat was. Whatever John B found was worth killing us for.

A couple minutes later, John B pulls the boat up to the Chateau and docks it by the wooden slacks that I used as a bed last night. My friends cheer and actually smile after what just happened.

"That was insane!" Kie says.

"Whoo!"

I look at my brother with adrenaline rushing straight to me head. I feel giddy about finding out what JB found - what must be so important. "What do you think it is?"

"Gotta be money, right?" He asks, looking at me.

"That or a couple of keys with street value to the low-to-mid-mills," JJ says, leisurely danglingly his arm around my shoulders.

"Can we please just open the bag?" Pope says loudly, forcing everyone's attention at him who now looks at us sheepishly.

"Wow, Pope," John B laughs. "That's a rare outburst of emotion."

"Okay, you guys are literally killing me with anticipation," He says. "Open the bag!"

"Jeez." JJ whistles.

"We almost died over this," Pope says like its an explanation. But he's right. We did almost die for this, which is why I need to know what's in it now.

John B opens the velvet bag. Something heavier than money falls out of it with a thunk. Its round and metal. Dirty and dented. Physically ugly and maybe priceless, but it looks familiar. I narrow my eyes at it, trying to study it and rack my brain through where I've seen it before.

"Oh, wow. Yup. That's about right," Pope sighs at the sight of our treasure. "Good job, everybody. We found a compass."

The word compass hits me like a train and my body goes slack like my limbs just turned into jell-o. John B is already looking at me, shocked at the real meaning of what we just found. I push myself in front of JJ and look down at the object he's holding. Priceless maybe true to the others but not to me. Not to John B. This means everything.

JJ looks between John B and I and laughs nervously at our reactions. "Dude, what? It's not worth anything."

My brows furrow together in confusion as I try to wrap my head around how we just found our dad's possession on another man's boat. A dead man's boat. But I feel blank. Like someone just wiped all my thoughts and memories.

"This was our father's compass," I say emotionless, keeping my eyes on JB who looks equally as terrified.

Tag List: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @jeeperky @realistic-breadstick @moniamaybank @urbinoutfiters @brebear121 @x-lulu

#jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj fic #jj x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks #john b routledge #outer banks rewrite #jj maybank x oc #pope heyward #kiara carrera #obx fic #obx

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lailoken · 3 years

Text

“Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea), also known as fairy thimble in Ireland.

It is generally accepted that the name foxglove is a corruption of folk's [i.e. fairies'] glove. According to James Britten:

The name Foxglove has, in all probability, nothing to do with Reynard, but is rather connected with the fairies or little folk. This derivation is fully borne out by other of its names; e.g. the North Country name, 'Witches' Thimbles'; the Irish name 'Fairy-cap'; the Welsh, 'Maneg Ellylln' (Fairies' Glove); the Cheshire, 'Fairies Petticoat'; and the East Anglian 'Fairy-thimble'. [Science Gossip, 1 February 1870: 43]

However, a belief collected from County Leitrim implies that foxgloves, rather than being fairy plants, are dangerous to fairies.

If you have a cross or peevish child, or one that from being in good health becomes sickly, and you have reason to believe it is a fairy child, following plan may be tried in order to ascertain whether this is the case. Take lusmore (foxglove) and squeeze the juice out. Give the child three drops on the tongue, and three in each ear. Then place it at the door of the house on a shovel (on which it should be held by some one), and swing it out of the door on the shovel three times, saying: 'If you're a fairy away with you!’ If it is a fairy child, it will die; but if not, it will surely begin to mend. [Duncan, 1896: 163]

There are occasional records of foxgloves being considered to be either 'unlucky' or an omen of war.

[Around Tutbury, Staffordshire, in the 1950s] picking foxgloves was un- lucky and they were absolutely forbidden inside a house as this gave WITCHES/the DEVIL access to the house. [Stevenage, Hertfordshire, May 1982]

The summer of 1914 was a record one for foxgloves, regarding which an old [Staffordshire] man remarked, 'I don't like them, missus; they mean war. Them foxgloves is soldiers.' [Hodson, 1917: 452]

Children inflate foxglove flowers and pop them.

[In Cornwall foxglove is known as pop dock:] Dock from its large coarse leaves; pop, from the habit of children to inflate and burst the flower. [Britten and Holland, 1886: 153]

[Gloucestershire, Forest of Dean, 1920s:] amusing ourselves lazily popping 'snompers'. We picked spikes of beautiful pink foxgloves ... then took off each flower, trapping the air with thumb and forefinger, and pushed the ends together till they'd explode with a pleasant little [Foley, 1974: 18]

Similarly, in the same area:

[From my grandparents, b. 1856 and 1860:] Snomper, or snowper (rhyme with cow) = foxglove. A favourite admonition to a noisy child: "Shut thee chops; thee bist like a bumble bee in a snowper.' A favourite occupation in summer was to trap a bee in a foxglove bell to hear it buzz angrily! [Cinderford, Gloucestershire, November 1993]

On Guernsey the foxglove was known as claquet, 'derived from the children's amusement of popping or bursting (claquer) the flowers on the palm of the hand,' and its flowering provided guidance as to when mackerel-fishing should start: Quand tu vé epani l'claquet, Met tes leines dans ten baté, En t'en vâs au macré. (When you see the foxglove blossoming, put your fishing-tackle into your boat, and go off for mackerel). [Marquand, 1906: 39]

At Hartland in north Devon foxgloves are associated with the osbcure St Nectan, to whom the parish church is dedicated. According to what appears to be a comparatively recent tradition, St Nectan and his sister arrived in Cornwall from Wales, and made their way towards Hartland. At Stoke they were attacked by robbers, and the Saint was decapitated. However, their journey was not delayed, for the Saint picked up his head and continued. Wherever a drop of BLOOD fell from his wound a foxglove sprang up [Dunsford, 1981: 176]. Today a Foxglove Procession is observed 'with great gusto' before the morning Sung Eucharist on the Sunday nearest the patronal feast, 17 June. Although parish magazines survive from 1909, the Procession is not mentioned until 1927, when the then incumbent arranged a proces- sion after 3 p.m. Evensong on St Nectan's Day [The Revd Louis Coulson, Vicar of Hartland, January 1982].

In folk medicine:

Foxglove leaves were placed in children's shoes and worn thus for a year, as a cure for scarlet fever-in Shropshire. [Haynes, Bedfordshire, August 1984]

The lus mor—or soft leaves in the heart of the plant out of which the fairy thimbles grow—is good for healing a CUT. The little hard hard thread on the back of the leaf should be pulled out and the leaf heated at the fire and applied to the CUT. [IFCSS MSS I128: 26, Co. Cork]

The foxglove provides the major British example of how traditional remedies might prove worthy of investigation. In 1775 William Withering was asked for an opinion on a traditional Shropshire reme- dy for DROPSY. Of the twẹnty or so herbs the remedy contained, Withering quickly concluded that the important active ingredient was foxglove leaves. Thus, as patients for whom all other remedies had failed became available, he began to experiment by administering differing dosages of foxglove leaves in a variety of forms. After ten years he published his results, listing 163 of his own patients and a number treated by other physicians, and, although foxglove leaves had originally been used to stimulate the production of urine, he was also able to report that they had 'a power over the motion of the heart to a degree not yet observed in any other medicine' [Withering, 1822: 103]. Several of his contemporaries also considered foxglove leaves to be useful in the treatment of TUBERCULOSIS, but this was never proved, and it is as a drug for the treatment of heart ailments that an extract of foxglove-now usually the Mediterranean woolly foxglove (Digitalis lanata)—continues to be used.”

—

Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

#Oxford dictionary of plant-lore #Roy Vickery #plant lore #faerie faith #faeries #the fae #faerie folk #foxglove #digitalis

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chanel5designer · 3 years

Text

Macgyver 5x10 final scene continuation fanfic

....“Hiding your emotions. Did they go way?”

Riley stares deeply into Mac’s eyes, trying to decipher what she sees written on Mac’s face. There is such a raw intensity about it - a longing she’s spent many nights dreaming about but never really believed she would experience with Mac.

A little frown appears on her forehead as she replies, “Why does it matter Mac? You’re going to propose to Desi.”

A flash of hurt skates across his face. Brokenly he responds, “It changes everything, Riles. I admit that my desire to propose to Desi wasn’t as well thought out as it should have been.” He glances away from Riley and gets a faraway look in his eyes, “Ever since my dad died, and losing Jack, I’ve been searching for a way to stabilize and clarify my relationship with Desi. I thought that by making that grand gesture by proposing marriage would get us back on the right track in our relationship. Admittedly, not my best, but I am so tired of feeling alone, like I don’t really belong to anyone. The uncertainty was driving me nuts. Until your confession, I thought you only saw me as a really good friend. I love our friendship, and the thought of screwing it up terrifies me. You’re the most stable, secure relationship in my life. The thought of losing that paralyzed me. You know what I see when I look at you? You are the epitome of all that I ever wanted in a woman, but never thought I had the chance to have. You’re a smart, beautiful, resourceful genius hacker who knows how to improvise and has the kindest heart of all the people I know. You love fiercely and have saved me in every way imaginable. It’s always been you, ever since I unlocked your handcuffs and you joined me in this crazy, dangerous life. You drew me under your spell and slowly filled in all of the cracks that I didn’t know I had. You are my rock, my best friend, my home. So I need to know, am I too late?”

Shocked by what she hears, Riley takes a deep breath centering herself as her mind races with this new information. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she says, “You really thought proposing marriage was the answer to your relationship issues? Not your best idea Mac. I really thought you were happy with Desi. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you is to be happy. Before I answer your question, I need to know if I say yes, will you go back to your original plan and propose to Desi?”

“No. Desi and I were done the minute I heard your confession to Bozer. I think she too knew that we weren’t the right fit for each other, and was tired of trying to fix what proved to be an unfixable relationship. We agreed to break off our relationship for good just prior to today’s debriefing in the war room. I’ve spent the last few hours wrestling with what to do about your confession. Do I act on it or let it go? On the one hand, your confession was like being given a cold drink of water after getting lost in the desert. It soothed the voice in my head taunting me that I don’t really belong to anyone. My entire family is dead. I know our group at the Phoenix is family, but I wanted something more. Something deeper. A personal connection - a person to wholeheartedly love and who would love me with that same passion. On the other hand, hearing that I was breaking your heart gutted me. I feel horrible for having caused you pain. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt. Learning Leanna had been killed reinforced my desire to see you. Life is short. I don’t want to waste another moment wondering what might have been. I know, no matter what comes next, whether you confirm that those feelings you buried did in fact go away or not, the no knowing would be worse than taking the risk to find out if my own buried feelings for you are reciprocated.”

She looks deeply into his eyes, contemplating how to respond to all that she’s learned. Mac - her best friend Angus Macgyver - admitted to having feelings for her. Can she risk everything and tell him the truth? She’s never stopped loving him, and never will. Out of nowhere, a lyric pops into her head. If you want to know if he loves you so, it’s in his kiss. “Could it really be that easy?” she thinks.

“Let’s find out,” she thinks. Riley reaches up and snakes her arms around his neck drawing him in for a deep, passionate kiss. It was like nothing she’d ever imagined. It was so much better.

Surprised by her move, it takes Mac a second to react to the fact that he’s kissing Riley Davis. Once his brain registers what’s happening, he pours all of the longing and buried feelings into expressing how much she means to him. When he finally draws back to get some much needed air, he looks down at her. His Riley. He now understands what Bozer meant when he said he didn’t want to die before getting the chance to kiss Riley. Getting the chance is life changing.

Riley looks up at Mac checking to see his response because she’s wrecked right now. She’d imagined them kissing would be good, but this was exponentially better. She never wants to stop.

He looks as wrecked as she feels.

She realizes they are still standing in her door way and he could probably use a rest and an ice pack or three. She gently grabs his hand leading him to her couch pointing for him to sit down before going to her fridge and pulling out a couple bottles of his favorite beer and a bag of frozen carrots. He’s limping slightly and given the hell they’ve gone through, she knows he’s got to be covered in bruises.

“Do you want to live in a world of what if and might have been, or will you seize this opportunity to let out all of the emotions you’ve bottled up inside and come home?” She argues with herself.

She walks back over to the sofa, handing Mac his drink before sitting down on the chair across from him. He’s fidgeting. She grabs a paper clip and hands it to him. He smiles gratefully.

“Mac,” she whispers, “My feelings...they never left. No matter how much I suppressed them and tried to move on, I couldn’t. My heart has been and always will be yours. I’m never leaving you. It’s you and me no matter what.”

A huge grin breaks out on Mac’s face, causing the wound on his cheek to throb a bit. He lifts the frozen carrots to dull the pain and gets ready to speak.

Riley holds up a finger causing Mac to pause before speaking, “But Mac, I want to say a few things. While I still have feelings for you, I’m not ready to be in a relationship with you. Honestly, you’re not ready to be in a relationship with me either. I’m scared if we jump into this too quickly, it will flame out, making us just another failed statistic in the long list of Phoenix operatives whose relationships that haven’t worked. Besides we still have to work with Desi. Let’s be smart about this so that it doesn’t create a rift in the team. I have no intention of being your rebound, second choice or safety net. I need you to prove to me that we can still work together smoothly despite of our feelings. Show me that the knowledge of our feelings hasn’t compromised our ability to work together. I want you to promise me that you will be willing to work on finding healthier coping mechanisms to deal with your trauma. Maybe even talk to a therapist to see what kind of tools they have to help you process your negative emotions. I’ll go with you if you want to a session or two. It’d wreck me if I lost you because your body can’t handle all of the emotional trauma you’ve suffered and you ended up stuck in a panic attack like what happened in Kazakhstan on a future mission.”

His euphoria at their first kiss deflates a little bit at her words, but he understands where she’s coming from. He knew he needed to make some changes, not just for Riley but for himself. He admitted to himself that his erratic behavior was rooted in the fear of being alone.

“Does that mean I can’t ask you out on a date until I can prove to you that we can make this work professionally?”

“Let’s take a few months and focus on working on ourselves before we talk about going on dates and getting into a relationship. Don’t worry. We will still see each other and hang out. We will do it together, like we do everything else. You jump. I jump. You go boom, I go boom. So prove me wrong. Show me that not all Phoenix relationships have to end in heartbreak. Show me some of that infamous Angus Macgyver charm I’ve heard so much about. Sweep me off my feet if you can,” She smirked.

Grinning widely at the challenge issued, Mac replies, “I’m looking forward to it Miss Davis.”

Game on.

#riley davis #macriley #angus macgyver #macgyver #fanfic

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master-sass-blast · 3 years

Text

Winter Stay-cation.

*insert pithy quip here*

Summary: A massive squall hits New York City. The snow, combined with a deep freeze, brings the city that never sleeps to a standstill once the police issue travel bans. Fortunately, you and Piotr know how to keep yourselves entertained during your impromptu stay-cation.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, and Ellie Phimister x Yukio.

Rating: G for fluff.

Word Count: 3.4k.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

A/N: The movie quote from Day Five is from Alfred Hitchcock’s “Rear Window.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

“—continuing into the middle of next week, if not longer. Expect heavy snowfall and temperatures below freezing, with windchill taking things below zero over the weekend.”

“Good grief.” You shake your head as you watch the weather report on the morning news. “It doesn’t get that cold when I fly full speed.”

Piotr, your husband, hands you a cup of coffee and shrugs. “January is ugly month.”

You smirk into your mug. “Bet this doesn’t compare to Siberian winters.”

“Not really,” he admits with a chuckle.

“The Chief of New York City’s Fire Department has issued a statement reminding residents to be careful when using their fireplaces and to monitor children and pets.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you quip, “Don’t use fireworks as kindling, we got it.”

Piotr snorts.

“In addition, the Police Department has issued a travel advisory in light of the predicted precipitation and sub-zero temperatures. All none-essential travel is restricted until the cold snap passes.”

“Groovy. Tell that to half the city.”

Piotr grins, shakes his head again, then turns the TV off. “Looks like we will have to keep ourselves occupied here this week.”

You cast a disparaging glance outside –where the snow is already up to Piotr’s knees—then say, “Like we were going anywhere else.”

***

Day One

There’s an upside to when the “deep freeze” hits. It’s already winter break, meaning there’s no coordinating classes, figuring out how to pick up students that don’t live at the mansion, or having to get up at the balls-ugly hours of the early morning in the stupid, frigid cold.

The two of you wake up at your leisure, around nine o’clock. You laze around in bed for a bit, snuggling and chatting and smooching, then head downstairs for breakfast. You wind up setting up shop at the dining room table, catching up on grading and filling out end of the semester report cards.

“Can you check these for me?” Piotr asks, handing you a stack of essays from his art classes. “I already made content-based marks; I am just not sure about English grammar.”

“Fun fact: most native English speakers aren’t sure about their grammar, either,” you joke with a smirk.

Piotr snorts, then checks his computer clock before standing. “Is about lunchtime. I was thinking soup and sandwiches?”

You nod. “Sounds tasty.”

“Would you like anything in particular?”

“Surprise me.” You make a contented hum when Piotr leans over the table to kiss you, then smile as you watch him head to the kitchen.

You really are the world’s luckiest woman (a sentiment you feel even more keenly when he comes back with a fresh cup of hot cider for you).

***

Day Two

“We should clean.”

The two of you are sitting on the couch. Your laptops sit on the coffee table, displaying the completed efforts of uploading grades to the online gradebook that the school uses. Two mugs that once contained coffee sit next to either laptop.

You look up at Piotr. You’re tucked against his side, head leaning on his shoulder while his fingers trace designs on the sleeve of your sweater (which is technically his sweater, but that’s neither here nor there). “Huh?”

“We should clean,” he repeats as he scrubs at his face with his free hand. “House could use it.”

You crane your neck to look over his shoulder. “We don’t really have that many dirty dishes.”

Piotr snorts, then raises an eyebrow at you. “When was last time we vacuumed? Or deep cleaned bathrooms? Or washed windows?”

“We can see out the windows just fine!”

Piotr grins and shakes his head. He stands, holding his hand out to you. “Come on, myshka. Clean home, clean mind.”

“I’ll have you know that my mind is nothing but dirty, and I’m offended that you would dare insinuate otherwise.”

Piotr laughs and helps you up. “We can start upstairs and work our way down.”

***

Cleaning with Piotr isn’t so bad. He carries his fair share of the workload, does things to their proper doneness, and is a firm supporter of blasting tunes while cleaning.

“Take! Me! On!” You bounce up and down in time with the beat while you clean the sliding glass doors in your bedroom that lead out to the balcony. “I’ll… be… gone! In a day or two!”

Behind you, Piotr laughs. He’s hauling out a trashbag from the bathroom –no doubt filled with the sheer amount of crumpled paper towels it takes to get the place sanitary again. “I see you are enjoying yourself.”

“Absolutely not. I’m suffering endlessly. I’m going to die any minute now.” And then, to prove you point, you flop to the floor dramatically (taking care to use your powers to cushion your landing).

Piotr lets out a choked gasp, then clutches at his chest. “You keep scared me!”

You look up at him and laugh. “You know I can catch myself! You’ve seen me do that before!”

“Changes nothing!” He lets out a ragged breath, hand still pressed over his heart. “I could have heart attack.”

You giggle, then lift yourself off the floor with a swirl of wind. You land nimbly on your toes before him and wrap your arms around his waist. “Aw, now who’s being dramatic?”

“I fail to see how concern for your well-being is dramatic!”

You suppress a grin, opting to pop up on the balls of your feet and kiss him instead. “I’m very sorry I scared you, baby.”

“Is okay.” He kisses you gently, then gazes down at you with a rueful smile on his lips. “What am I going to do with you, myshka?”

“Dance with me?” You flash him an impish smile, then start bouncing in time to the music again.

Piotr chuckles, then takes your hands in his and bops along with you.

The two of you dance around the room –well, as much as what you’re doing can be called dancing. You sing the lyrics of the song to each other, not sticking to any particular key or tempo.

You laugh when Piotr lifts you into his arms, bridal style, then squeal in delight when he spins the two of you around.

It’s perfect.

***

Day Three

You wake up to the sound of Piotr’s phone chirping –because, even on vacation, he still keeps a daily morning alarm.

He groans as he comes to, then laughs when you roll over him and shut off his alarm for him. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

You set his phone back on his nightstand, then straddle his hips and plant your hands against his brawny chest. “You’re not making me clean today.”

Piotr smirks up at you, bushy eyebrow raising in challenge. “Oh?”

“We’re spending today in this bed,” you continue. “Just you” –you tap his chest—“and me, and as few clothes as possible. Sound good?”

He pretends to mull it over, even has he takes off the shirt he’d been sleeping in. “Are we allowed bathroom and meal breaks?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Ah, very generous. Thank you, benevolent myshka.”

“You’re very welcome.” You giggle when he grins –then let out a delighted yelp when he rolls suddenly, pinning you between him and the bed. You sigh as he kisses you, eyes fluttering shut. You arms wind around his neck, holding him against you while his hands smooth down your body.

***

Day Four

Cabin fever starts setting in between the third and fourth day. There’s only so many chores you can do, only so many papers you can grade (and you’re out of papers to grade, which doesn’t help your case), only so much sex you can have before you’re gonna start losing your mind.

Fortunately, Piotr is well-attuned to you and your mental states –meaning he notices that you’re getting twitchy before you dip into pyromania to keep yourself entertained.

“We should do something fun today,” he says during breakfast. He spreads some sour cream over his plate of blinis, then adds cottage cheese and sausage meat. “Perhaps play some video games. Ellie has been pestering me to play some multi-people games with her and Yukio.”

“Could be fun,” you say before stuffing your mouth full with Nutella-covered blini. You swallow, then ask, “What did she want to play?”

“Ah… she had two. I think… Falling Guys and Among Us?”

A slow, wicked grin stretches across your place. Fuck yeah. “Let her know we’re in.”

***

Piotr, unfortunately, turns out to be none too good at Fall Guys.

“No!” He wails, then flops back against the couch when he gets thrown off a platform and into the slime. “I could not run away!”

“You have to anticipate the enemy’s movements,” Ellie says over Discord. She’s already qualified and is spectating you and Yukio. “Predict their strategy, then counter.”

“I think it is less strategy and more ‘giant hands do not play nice with tiny controller,’” Piotr grumbles good-naturedly.

“Or maybe you got your butt kicked like a scrub,” Ellie fires back.

“I never contested that,” Piotr chuckles.

“Alright,” you say, eyes glued on your pink and yellow striped player. “I’m almost there, there’s plenty of slots left –no, you fucking pigeon! Let me go!”

“Language,” Piotr murmurs between bouts of laughter.

“It’s always a pigeon!” Ellie groans. “Fucking skyrats.”

“Language, NTW.”

You qualify for the next round (no thanks to the damn pigeon, who qualifies, too). Egg Scramble is next, and you wind up facing off against Ellie and Yukio for the win.

“Damn it!” There’s the sound of something hitting the floor –most likely Ellie throwing her controller—when she and Yukio get booted out. “Yellow always loses!”

“Is that it?” you ask while the loading screen plays. “Are we at the final round yet?”

“There’ll be one more,” Yukio says. “To finish whittling down the competitors.”

Sure enough, there’s a round of Tip-Toe –which you get through by the skin of your teeth—and then you and eight other players are sent to the finale.

“Okay, Hex-A-Gone. You’ll want to just hop from tile to tile,” Ellie advises you while the level loads. “It makes the tiles last longer.”

“Don’t be afraid to drop a couple levels at first,” Yukio adds. “You can carve out one of the lower levels, meaning anyone that falls above you will have further to go and will be more likely to get out.”

“I appreciate it, but don’t expect any miracles,” you say, laughing self-deprecatingly.

Piotr kisses the top of your head. “You can do this, myshka.”

You follow the girls’ advice; you let yourself drop down two levels, then start hopping from tile to tile to start carving out the platform.

“One guy’s already out!” Ellie announces. “You’ve got this!”

“Shit! I fell!”

“That’s okay,” Yukio reassures you. “Find a decent mass of tiles and hop, don’t run. Make them last.”

“The pigeon grabbed another player,” Piotr marvels, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, they both died, so fat lot of good it did them,” Ellie mutters.

You keep going, bounce from brightly colored hexagon to brightly colored hexagon.

“Only four left!” Ellie lets out a whoop. “Holy shit, you’re gonna make it!”

“Don’t jinx me!” you laugh as you dodge another player’s attempt to grab you. “Don’t jinx me!”

“Three left –two! It’s just you and one other guy!”

“You’ve got this, Y/N!” Yukio cheers.

You dive for a clump of tiles –and miss. “No!” You groan, then laugh as your character plummets into the pink slime. “Damn. I’m never going to do that good ever again.”

Piotr wraps an arm around your shoulders in a conciliatory hug. “You did wonderful job, myshka.”

“He’s right. That was really good. The winner fell a few seconds after you, so it was basically a coin toss as to who was gonna get the crown,” Ellie says while the winner’s animation plays on screen.

“Yeah! Great job!” Yukio congratulates you.

“Wanna do another round?” Ellie asks as she flicks between skins and accessories for her avatar.

Yukio laughs lightly. “Baby, we were going to get lunch.”

“Oh, right.”

“Perhaps we can try other game after lunch,” Piotr suggests. “‘Fall Guys’ is okay, but makes me too dizzy.”

“Yeah, sure. Text me when you guys are done eating.”

***

Among Us doesn’t go much better for Piotr, if only because he doesn’t adhere to the strategy of the game. He does his tasks without fail –which usually leaves him alone, and thus a prime target for killing or pinning a murder on. He’s also a terrible liar, which makes it easy to tell when he is the impostor.

You laugh as Piotr’s little red spaceman goes floating into space. “I honestly feel bad.”

“I don’t,” Wade says (he and Nate hopped on the Discord call when Yukio sent them an invite). “Pay for some acting classes, Chrome Dome! Give us a challenge, at least.”

Piotr starts grumbling in Russian, but it gets cut off when the round starts up again.

(You all still wind up losing because Nate’s the other impostor and racks up bodies like nobody’s business.)

“I’m still waiting for when Ellie and Dad get the impostor role together,” you comment as the defeat screen flashes on your laptop screen.

“What, so we all die in five minutes?” Wade grumbles. “So we can suffer the agony of betrayal and not honoring trust again?”

“It’s just a game, Wade,” Nate sighs. “And I apologized already.”

“Is our relationship ‘just a game’ to you, Natey? I gave you an alibi –and then you shanked me in the shower like rejected prison bitch!”

“Language, Wade,” your husband pipes up, voice world-weary. “Please.”

You all start another round once Wade calms down –which, admittedly, takes a while and a great deal of coaxing from Nathan. You grin when you see that you’re an impostor alongside Yukio –then giggle to yourself when a plan pops into your mind.

You start stalking Piotr around the map. You fake doing tasks alongside him, acting as his shadow as he treks around the map. On the corner of your screen, you watch your kill timer wind down, then wait for the right moment once it runs out, and—

Downstairs, in his art studio, your husband lets out an indignant scream when your character murders his.

You fall back onto the bed and cackle.

***

Day Five

The squall rages on outside. The world is practically buried in snow. It’s a sea of white outside your bedroom windows, blinding and sterile.

You peer at the swaths of snow blanketing every inch of ground, every tree branch, and every shrub, then nestle further under the blankets. “Ugh. I don’t even want to get out of bed today.”

Piotr chuckles, then wraps an arm around your waist. “How come?”

“Have you seen what it’s like outside? It’s disgusting!”

“I thought you liked snow.”

“I do. That’s how you know it’s bad.” You sigh as you eye the fat, fluffy flakes falling from the sky. “I wish I could, like, go outside. Go to a store or something. Leave the house.”

“Is not safe to drive yet.”

“I know, I know.” You sigh. “Is it bad that I miss the color green?”

“Nyet. Is normal.”

You smile, just a little, when Piotr kisses the back of your head. You roll over to face him. “Can we build a blanket fort today?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What… here? In bedroom?”

“Yeah. We can make it look all pretty, and snuggle in bed, and watch movies, and have sex…”

“Bozhe ty moi.” Piotr snorts, then takes a moment to study your face, your eyes. “You really want blanket fort?”

“Kind of, yeah. I just… I want something new to look at.”

The corner of his mouth turns up in a soft smile. He presses his lips against your forehead. “Alright, myshka. Let’s make fort.”

***

“When a man and a woman see each other and like each other, they ought to come together. Wham. Like a couple of taxis on Broadway.”

You let out a content, relaxed sigh, then wriggle closer to Piotr.

The fort, admittedly, is simple –but you don’t mind. While you were taking a shower, Piotr assembled the whole thing, just to give you a little surprise.

He’d brought up a couple floor lamps from the main floor, then clipped some fairy lights to them before draping the largest quilt in the house over top to make the room. He’d pinned some throw blankets to either side of the quilt to make the sides, then made the bed and assembled the pillows so the two of you could have a nice, cozy, comfy den to watch movies in.

The recurring, delighted thought of ‘he made it for me; he made it for me because he knew I wanted one’ loops around in your brain like a bumblebee drunk on fermented crab apples. You grin, then loop your arms around Piotr’s neck and kiss his cheek.

He grins, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “What was that for?”

“You made me a blanket fort.”

“You asked for one.”

“Yeah, but you made it for me. You could’ve just waited until we could both work on it.”

He shrugs, lips curving into a soft, pleased smile. “I wanted to see look on face. You were very happy.”

“Correction: I am very happy.” You kiss the tip of his nose, then his lips. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

***

Day Six

You know it’s bad when you wake up before Piotr.

You look over at your husband, who’s still slumbering away next to you –and sawing some logs, no less—then out at the winter hellscape outside, and decide there’s only one thing for it.

You’re channeling your inner Great British Bake Off contestant and demolishing the kitchen.

***

Piotr comes downstairs around ten in the morning –which is a miraculous amount of sleep in time for him—but by then, the damage has already been done.

There’s a cake cooling on the counter (you’d found a box of cake mix in the back of the pantry and decided to use it as a warm-up. The mixer is working overtime on a double batch of sugar cookies –plus there’s already chocolate chip cookie dough chilling in the fridge.

You look up from the cookbook you’d been perusing –you were thinking pie next—and flash your husband a slightly sheepish grin as he gapes at the kitchen. “Uh… good morning?”

“Myshka…”

“I made cake.”

“I can see that.” Piotr drops his heads into his hands and makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Why?”

“Because being trapped inside is stressing me out and I want to cope by eating my weight in desserts.”

Piotr sighs, then lifts his head. He eyes the mixer, then the increasingly sheepish expression on your face. “How much is that?”

“In the bowl or in the fridge?”

“Bozhe ty moi.”

“Look, the way I see it, we can share—”

“You have that much correct. We do not need five million cookies.”

“Excuse you, I’m only making three million. Also, do you know where the lard is?”

Piotr’s face scrunches up. “Lard? Why—”

“I wanna make pie.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “We already have cake. And goodness knows how many kinds of cookies.”

“But those aren’t pie.” You smile impishly at him. “Plus, like, pie has fruit, so it’s good for you. You like fruit. Think about how good it’ll be to eat something with fruit after all the cake, and the cookies…”

“Or I could just eat fruit.” He sighs, resigned and slightly frustrated, when you bat your eyelashes at him. “I will check pantry.”

***

Day Seven

“—as of today, authorities are lifting the ban on nonessential travel—”

“Yes!” You launch yourself into the air, twirling around and pumping your fists before landing lightly on the couch once more. “Finally!”

Piotr laughs and shakes his head. “What, is staying inside with me so terrible?”

“Absolutely not.” You crawl across the couch and into his lap, then give him a loud smooch. “I have enjoyed every single day of your company. However, you’ve got about fifteen minutes before I start repainting the walls out of sheer boredom.”

Piotr bursts into raucous guffaws. He puts a hand over his eyes, shoulders and stomach shaking with each laugh. He sighs, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes as minute giggles slip past his lips. “Well, we do need to restock on food. And flour and butter, since someone decided to open bakery yesterday.”

You pointedly ignore the pies and full cookie jar sitting on the kitchen counter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He snorts, then pats your thigh. “Get dressed, myshka. We will go shopping.”

“Fuck yeah!” You zip up the stairs.

Downstairs, you can hear Piotr start laughing again.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #negasonic teenage warhead x yukio #heavy on the fluff #because this year has been a shitload of angst #and quite frankly im done with it #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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andhumanslovedstories · 4 years

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the old guard, 2k words, nicolò in the earliest days of immortality. cw for suicide attempts and self-harm.

The promise of heaven is life unending after death. What then is life unending without dying? It is suffering eternal. To be a body in this imperfect world is to be ground by the millstone. Death is the temporary liberation from the frail and tortuous flesh. Even the bodily resurrection of the end of days promised the spirits of heaven to return to the earth only when the earth was made at last perfect again. Jesus Christ, both God and Man, was His body and inhabited His body, offered His body, endured His body, and eventually vacated His body.

That Jesus Christ returned to His body no longer seemed, to Nicolò, miraculous. It seemed to Nicolò, who despised himself for the blasphemy and yet blasphemed regardless, intolerable cruelty torture a man to death and then refuse to let him die.

What would you call such a thing? Nicolò called it Hell.

In his agony, he found relief by listing his sins. They slid like beads in place, the endless flaws and crimes of his mortal life; they explained his suffering. Here he acted in anger, here pride, here disobedience against his betters. He counted up lusts and vices, finding new perversions and indecencies in each memory he revisited. He flagellated, paid penance out of his accursed flesh, and watched those wounds, his offerings to God, seal up without an answer. Determining that he must not have atoned in full, he searched his life and repented new crimes. He wept for the times he lowered his eyes from God to the jawline of a handsome man. He whipped himself for the mornings of prayer when he resented leaving the warmth of his bed. The tears dried. The wounds healed. Nicolò remained.

Even now in Hell and burning, he still could not cease his sinning, his blasphemy. He would think, God has placed me where even He cannot reach, and sink further into his heretical misery.

It is worth auditing his accounting. Nicolò was not an impartial observer of his own life. Who is? We none of us stand outside ourselves looking in until our bodies have given up the ghost. And Nicolò’s body gave up nothing. What crimes then did Nicolò neglect?

Do you think the crusader thought, My sins include the butchered Turks, my sword buried in corpses of its own creation? We know the disappointing answer. Nicolò was not yet what he would someday be.

He did not yet think, My sin is this burning land, the torch set to the raided field that our enemies will know no succour. Here is a body, there and there and there as well, killed if not by my hand then by my cause, the liberation of a holy dream that I found was inhabited by men of matter. I killed a Turk as one would a rabid dog incapable of reason or love. He was a man as I am a man, and therefore surely if I am beloved by God (although I cannot, as I once did, believe that), then he must be as well. God made man in His image and then made Himself in the image of man. God is in any man and every man. I have killed this man in hate. I have killed God.

He did not, he could not, or rather could not allow himself to think such a thing. It is no simple thing to look upon the suffering Christ and understand yourself to be the Roman soldier. And when he did, when he could, despite the impossibility of such fancies, he cursed the treachery of his weak heart. Those thoughts were not his own. They were the whispers of the demon.

Oh yes. We come now to sleep, as Nicolò came to sleep: haltingly, reluctantly, with terror in our hearts. How cruel of his body to refuse death but to demand this nightly dying.

The demon visited Nicolò nightly. After too many failed killings at each other’s hands, they had fled each other in waking hours only to find themselves shackled together in dreams. He was, as all temptations are, too sweet and too rich and too fine. He was a Turk with a handsome face and cold eyes and cold steel. In dreams, sometimes Nicolò watched him, and sometimes Nicolò was him, and sometimes the demon was Nicolò, and sometimes they were two women in a distant land, two women who were walking closer and closer and closer.

“I think sometimes,” the demon said to Nicolò one night in dreams, “that those two women are the only people who can kill us. And that is why they come.”

“You’ll die at no one’s hand but my own,” Nicolò replied.

He flayed his back with self-flagellation and when that gained him no results, he found other ways of punishing the flesh. But these methods proved imperfect in their efficacy. How to torture without executing? One day in his zealous repentance, he sliced too deep. He knew he was dying when he suddenly felt cold underneath the noon day sun. A sin, a sin, an unforgivable sin, he thought, cut again, and let death happen. The blood left him, running out of his arm like the plagued river of Egypt, and on the other side of this horror, this punishment, Nicolò knew, there would be the long desert, yes, but there would be freedom, there would be peace. His numbed fingers dropped the knife, that key of liberation, and embraced eternity.

When he woke, he was hot again. The sun had baked him and his skin burned. But his skin would heal. It would heal that it might burn again and again and again.

“I felt you die today,” the demon said that night in dreams.

Nicolò’s laugh filled his mouth like sand. “But here I am.”

The demon touched his own neck. There was no scar there--never, Nicolò thought bitterly, any scars--but there was a line in the beard like a skilled tailor’s seam, visible only with the closest observer. As though a blade had once sliced through cloth now repaired. “You have to try. It was with this dagger.” He held up the dagger. Nicolò recognized it, had been impaled and sliced by it for all the good it did. “In the fire of Hell I will be punished with this dagger for what I have used it for. And yet I did not die.” The demon looked at Nicolò, and while his steel remained cold, his eyes were not at all. “Is that suicide, Frank? If I cannot die but hoped I would? Will I burn?”

Every man, no matter how aware of his own sins and failings and culpability for his woes, in the lowest and darkest hour of his life finds himself in Job, that blameless man tormented by God. And in Job’s misery, his friends arrive and dissect in all the ways Job deserved his agony. And Job protests, no, no, I did nothing but my children are dead, my wife is dead, my fortune is gone, my health is gone, I am defenseless before God and I do not understand why.

Nicolò, too aware and still unaware of his failings and faults, cast himself as Job and Job’s friends: both the blameless victim and the accuser of blame. And Nicolò lamented and hated himself for lamenting, repented and believed he had nothing left to repent. And where was the whirlwind? God sweeping down to answer questions with questions? Were you there at the foundation of the earth, God asked Job. If God asked the same of Nicolò, he could not hear. What was the story of Job? What was the point? Why did Job suffer? Why had God done this to him? Why could Nicolò not submit to the mystery?

In the face of Nicolò’s silence, the Turk turned cold again, cold as steel and more painful somehow. Perhaps Nicolò had grown too accustomed to the pain of steel. “Why do I ask you? Of course you think I will burn. You have made clear what you think I am, what you think my countrymen and my brothers in faith are. Get out of my dream, Frank. I am sorry to have felt you today in my waking hours. Give me the privacy of my sleeping ones.”

“Elihu tells Job that God speaks in two ways,” Nicolò said. He did not know why he said it. The Turk looked as if he did not know why Nicolò had said it either. “He speaks to us in dreams when our eyes are closed and in calamities when our ears are open.”

“What do you mean to tell me with this?” asked the Turk after a moment. His face was still cold, still sharp, and Nicolò could not look away from it, like running his thumb along the edge of a blade.

What was intolerable about Job’s friends? Their certainty. Their certainty that they understood God and suffering and the reasons for the universe, as if there was reason understandable to mortals, as if God need explain Himself to the world He created.

“I don’t know,” Nicolò said.

The Turk looked at him, and Nicolò looked at the Turk, in the strange world of dreams where God talked and no one understood.

Nicolò woke. He woke and thought about the undying Turk. He woke and thought--allowed himself at last to think--of the Turks who died. Whom he killed, and wished to kill, and believed should be killed, in the name of God and glory. Those men allowed to recieve the gift that Nicolò was denied again and again, and he thought, as Job thought, as Job’s friends thought, what his crime was. If I am innocent, Lord, release me. If I am guilty, tell me my crime. The men I killed died and are dead. The men I killed alongside died and are dead. I died and am living still. The Turk is living still. What crime have we both committed that our sentence is the same?

What good have we both committed to have earned this boon?

Nicolò had never before this moment thought that their undying lives might be a gift.

Two days later, the Turk found him again. This time, in the waking world. Their swords remained in their sheaths. They emptied instead their boots, and sitting in silence side by side, they sat on the bank and let the river wash their feet.

“I am tired of dreaming of you,” the Turk announced to the buzzing insects of the encroaching night. “When I followed you to slit your throat, I never dreamed of you. Nor did I dream of you when you were stalking me.” The Turk almost smiled, and Nicolò’s skin burned again, a burn that would not heal for it was no injury at all. “I knew you were near, those times. When you are near, my sleep is easy and punctuated by nothing but a blade.”

“I am tired. I am confused. I am, I think, more wretched than I ever dreamed, and I understand nothing.” Nicolò said. “I will not kill you again.”

“Our problem is that you have not killed me yet.”

They sat together, feet in the river. They said nothing and understood nothing. The sun went down and the moon arose, and too the stars. Job had asked God why he suffered so, and God had asked Job if he could bind the chains of the Pleiades or loosen Orion’s belt. Job could not and neither could Nicolò. Nor could the Turk, whose name was Yusuf and who smiled at last in the surprise of being asked.

#the old guard #nicolo di genova #yusuf al-kaysani #nicky and joe #but before they liked each other but also a little bit when they do #hey you ever black out and write 2000 words about how it's impossible to understand why god makes you suffer

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excitedlysuffering · 4 years

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Not sure how I feel about some of these. Probably cuz it’s 2 am. I should sleep... (disclaimer: I don’t own any characters from Naruto even if they own me!)

He Asks You Out

Naruto~

Three months had gone by and you and Naruto had quickly become best friends. He introduced and integrated you into his friend group and showed you around Konoha, and you kept him company and helped eat food other than ramen.

You spent a lot of your time at the blondes house, either just hanging out or making sure he didn’t starve or drink spoiled milk. Now was one of those times.

“Naruto, you had ramen for breakfast already! I’m not making any more!” He groaned, following you into the kitchen. “Then I’ll make it! It’ll only take five minutes!” You exhaled slowly. “Naru, you can’t live on ramen, it’s not healthy. I’m going to make you a balanced meal. You’ll love it okay?” He sighed. “Fineeee.”

You smiled. “Great! Would you make the tea real quick?” He gave you a mini salute already back to his chipper self. “So, what should do we do once dinner is ready?” Naruto asked you. A smirk appeared on your face. “Well, there’s this thing called face masks. They’re super relaxing and I just happen to have two on me!”

He gave you a sideways look. “What do they do?” You clapped gleefully. “It’s like a paste that you apply on your face, it feels really good. It also helps your skin!” He laughed. “Sasuke will be so jealous when my skin is better than his, believe it!” You laughed, agreeing.

Dinner was Yaki Udon, a simple meal with stir-fried noodles and beef, but it was one of your favorite things to make and you’d added a few things to it. “(Y/N), this is amazing! Almost as good as ramen, believe it!” Although it sounded like a backhanded compliment, you knew just how strongly Naruto felt about ramen. This was high praise.

“I’m glad you like it, Naruto! Now hurry so we can do face masks!” He pursed his lips, finishing his bowl. “What color are they?” You giggled at his skepticism. “They’re both pink.”

Naruto pouted the whole time. From the time you’d brought out the jar, to the first time it touched his face. “Oh, c’mon! Pink is a manly color, Naru!” He scowled. “I’ve never seen Sasuke wear it.” He muttered. I dawned a smug expression. “That just proves you’re manlier than him!” The blonde was silent, much to your confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Naruto flushed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just thinking… how you always support me and take care of me. You keep me company even when I’m being an idiot… I really like you, (Y/N). C-can I take you out? Like on a date?”

Your hand fell away from his face. You had begun to catch feelings for your best friend, but you didn’t think he’d return them. You were practically on cloud nine!

“Naruto… that’d be amazing!” His expression was pure joy, no doubt reflecting yours. “But on one condition… you let me finish your mask!” “(Y/NN)!”

Sasuke~

You dodged a roundhouse kick to your temple by the skin of your teeth, grunting as you blocked a fist. You returned his attacks with a rapid flurry of punches, all being blocked, but that wasn’t your goal. You sent a spin kick towards him, but he caught your leg, tossing you away from him. You landed on your feet in a defensive position, panting slightly.

“Hn. You’re a bit slow today, are you okay, (Y/N)?” You scowled at Sasuke as he stood up from his stance. “I am not! I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

He gave you a look and put his kunai in his pocket. “You should’ve just said that. I wouldn’t have asked to spar.” Your face screamed indignation. “I’m fine! A little tiredness never killed anybody!” He gave you a questioning glance as he sat down on the grass. “Actually, I’m sure it has. Especially in battle.” You groaned, crossing your arms. “Smart alec.”

He smirked, tossing you a water bottle. “You want to spar that bad?” You shrugged. “Usually I’d go for more talented opponents but I guess you’ll do for now.” He chuckled. “So that’s why you could hardly keep up with me?” You threw the water bottle at him, scowling when he caught it. “Just fight me, Uchiha.”

You and Sasuke had meeting up for weeks now to train together and sometimes just hang out. Playful banter was a constant between you two but at the end of the day, you guys knew it was all in jest. You had caught your thoughts drifting back to your conversations with him to know that you were beginning to fall for him, but you kept it under wraps, there was no way you were going to turn into Sakura and Ino.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your blossoming feelings, Sasuke was already charging you, kunai in hand. You pulled out your twin katanas and parried his every attack. It was almost like a dance between you two; both of you light on your feet and dodging every attempt while counterattacking. It went on for a while before those four fateful words left Sasuke’s mouth.

“Go out with me.” You didn’t know what to think. Was he serious? Did he even mean a date?! “We’re in the middle of a fight and that’s what you’re thinking of?” I saw his lips curve upwards as he blocked my swords. “Tch. I’m serious, (Y/N). You’re different from other girls… I like you.” Sasuke blushed, but you were sure your face was showing shades of red no one had ever witnessed before. “If we don’t accidentally kill ourselves because we’re distracted, I’d love to.”

“Would that mean it’s a bad time to tell me you kinda stabbed me in the side?”

Neji~

“Where are we going exactly, (Y/N)?” You smiled at Neji as you pulled him along behind you. “I went to this great little cafe and their tea is to die for! I had to take you!” He snorted, clearly amused. “The tea?” You laughed. “You’re always drinking tea, I thought you could use a little a variety!” He chuckled as you both walked through the door.

“I’m going to use the restroom real quick, will you be okay?” I nodded but pointed to the menu. “What do you want?” He handed you a few yen, that you didn’t plan on using. “Surprise me, this is supposed to be for variety right?” Then he was gone around the corner.

You shrugged to yourself as you walked up to the counter. “Hello, how can I help you today?” You smiled, pulling out your own money. “Hi, can I get a Berry Blend Açai Tea, please? Oh, and two dangos, as well!” In no time you had paid and received the sugary treats. They would bring you and Neji your tea.

“Well, well, well, what’s a pretty lady like you doing all on your own?” A man appeared in front of you, causing you to stop in your tracks. You looked behind you, unsure of who he was talking to. “Yes, you, sweet cheeks.” You scowled. “I’m not alone, now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to sit down.” The man just laughed, not moving an inch. “Aw, don’t be like that. I don’t see anyone-”

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t work. You were still pissed. “Look, if you don’t move, I’ll be forced to move you.” He didn’t have a headband, so he wouldn’t be a challenge. He just stood there laughing at you. You set your dango on a nearby table, before kicking out his knee. When he bent down, yelling profanities, you grabbed his head and brought it down harshly onto your knee. He wouldn’t need his nose, right? “Why you little-!” You cut him off with a hand to his pressure point and he fell, unconscious before he hit the ground.

“(Y/N)?” By now you had a small audience, but you were only paying attention to Neji. “I was just coming over to tell him that I was with you… but it looks like you had everything under control. You laughed sheepishly. “Maybe we should get out things to go?”

Neji walked beside you, quietly sipping his tea, seemingly deep in thought. You knew it was best to let him think through whatever it was, so you ate your dango while you waited. “She really is perfect…” You heard him mumble to himself. You have him a strange look. “What?”

His cheeks were tinted pink, but he didn’t back down from your gaze. “I realized you were special from the moment I first met you, but… seeing you take that man down opened my eyes to how perfect you really are.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. Did Neji like you…? “I don’t want to lose you to anyone else, I was wondering if you’d like to… go out with me?” Your face broke out into a huge smile.

“Oh, Neji only you could see a girl fight someone twice her size and fall in love. Of course, I’ll go out with you.”

Shikamaru~

You and Shikamaru had agreed to meet up for lunch at a local sushi place for lunch at noon and you were so excited that you had ended up a little early. You didn’t mind though, you’d have a chance to survey the menu before you ordered.

However, you didn’t expect to see Shikamaru Lazy as Hell Nara already waiting on you. But what really shocked you was the cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. You walked up to him, hands in your pockets. “I didn’t know you smoked, Shika.” He took a long drag, a lazy smile playing at his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” You shook your head as he blew out the smoke in the opposite direction of your face. “Nope. As you long as you know the dangers of smoking, I won’t mention it.” He smirked, throwing the topic of conversation down and squashing it with his heel. “No nagging?” I shook my head. “Doesn’t help. If you’re going to quit you need to do it for yourself, not cause someone bothered you about it.”

Shikamaru wrapped his arm around, in a rare show of affection, and led you inside. “You’re really something else, (Y/N).” You couldn’t help but eye the pack of cigarettes he clearly had in his pouch. You knew they were bad for you, but surely a few couldn’t hurt right?

“Tch, I’m not letting you smoke, so you can get rid of that idea.” Shika deadpanned. Your jaw dropped. “But I didn’t even say anything!” He just chuckled as you both took a seat at a booth back in the corner. “I know you, you were clearly staring at them and thinking about trying one.”

You groaned at how easy to read you were. Surely he was exaggerating and it was just a lucky guess. “Hello! I am to be your server today. What can I get you, sweetheart?” You gulped, more than a little uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you. “Oi! Are you serious? We’re clearly on a date! Stop eyeing her like a piece of meat and take our orders!” Shikamaru shouted, peeved. It was an unusual sight, you knew he was a laid back guy, he was more likely to brush things off.

“I apologize, I was ju-” Shikamaru held up a hand. “I’m not her keeper, apologize to her, she was clearly uncomfortable.” The waiter paled. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded once. “It’s okay…” Seemingly satisfied, Shikamaru grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the restaurant, obviously not caring for the service.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his annoyed expression. “So that was a date, Shika?” His face went from annoyed to embarrassed instantly, but he didn’t let that deter him. “I mean, it’d be a drag but I could ask you on a more official one.” You grinned, linking arms with him. “That’d be fabulous, but I’ll spare you the trouble, Mr. Lazy, and say that I’d be happy to go on a date with you.”

With a slight blush still adorning his cheeks, he moved his hand to wrap it around your waist. “Maybe you’re not as troublesome I thought.” You gave him a look. “Wanna bet?” He just sighed, but you didn’t miss his smile.

Kiba~

Shikamaru and Kiba had gone a few hours ago for a ‘boys night out’, leaving you alone with a plethora of movies and all the ice cream. Mr. and Mrs. Nara were already asleep and from their bedroom, you couldn’t hear the TV in Shika’s room. It was perfect.

You had decided on watching ‘The Boy In The Striped Pajamas’ after having heard it was good. It was a mistake. A huge mistake. You could handle movie horror, gore on missions, and real-life tragedy, but this was too much. The tale of two boys, oblivious to the horror show they lived in as they became friends, only to be killed in such a brutal fashion…

That’s how the boys found you, sobbing as you watched the kids enter the gas chamber. You felt like your heart was tearing apart. Maybe you shouldn’t have had so much coffee before. “Um… (Y/N), you okay there?” You turned to Kiba, sniffling. “No! They d-died!” Your wailing started back up again. Shikamaru groaned. “Troublesome woman, you know you’re not supposed to watch sad movies.” Kiba wrapped an arm around you. “Cut her some slack, Shikamaru. Everyone gets sad from time to time.”

Kiba gave you a small smile as he grabbed a tissue. “Here,” he gently wiped away your tears as he looked at the ice cream tub. “How much ice cream did you eat, (Y/N/N)?” You flushed. “More than I care to admit.” He laughed, throwing away the tissue. “Thank you, Kiba, I really appreciate you.” He gave you a grin and ruffled your hair.

“That’s what I’m here for. Now, let’s clean up the remainder of your sob fest.” You laughed tears forgotten, as you and Kiba cleaned up, while Shikamaru took out the movie from the DVD player. “Was the movie that bad?” Shikamaru asked skeptically.

“Yes. It was. You have to watch it sometime when I’m not around.” They both snickered. “We’ll have to just so we can see how dramatic you’re being.” I scoffed. “Sure, Kiba. But you’re going to eat your words when you start crying.” Shika sighed. “What a drag. You have a bad taste in movies.” I rolled my eyes. “Lies.”

Kiba crossed his arms. “If you let me take you out, I’d show you some good movies.” He mumbled under his breath. You did a double-take. “K-Kiba… what was that?” The rest of his cheeks matched his red stripes. “I said that if I could take you on a date, I’d show you a good movie.” A grin spread across your lips. “I think I’d like that… a lot.” Shikamaru looked between you two, alarmed.

“Wait, my two best friends?! I’ll always be a third wheel!”

Gaara~

You set down your book when you heard a soft rapping at your door. Puzzled at who it could be you walked to your door, opening it. You were pleasantly surprised to see Gaara standing on your front steps, a small smile adorning his face.

“Gaara! Come in, what are you doing here?” He stepped into your home, as you closed the door. “Well, I learned my first song and I wanted you to be the first to hear it.” You grinned following him to your piano.

“This is great! What is it?” He sat down beside you and flushed as he began. “The first thing I ever heard you play was the theme for Swan Lake, so I learned the finale to it…” His fingers danced as he played the song perfectly. It was the simplistic version, but you could tell he really practiced.

“Gaara, this is beautiful. You have a real talent for the piano.” His blush darkened as he finished. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you. Truthfully, when I asked you to teach me, I just wanted to spend more time with you, but then I really did enjoy playing.” Your flush matched his. “R-really?” He nodded, uncharacteristically nervous. “Yes, but now I… want to see you outside of these lessons.”

You placed a hand over his, both of you wearing matching smiles. “Like a… date?” He nodded, shyly. “Yes, like a date.” You wrapped him in a hug. “That sounds amazing, Gaara.” He hugged you back, his head resting on your shoulder. Your door slammed open, scaring you both so bad you both fell off the piano bench.

“YES! We’ve been waiting for this moment!” Kankuro and Temari stood in your doorway fists raised in victory. You and Gaara just stared, too shocked to even be embarrassed. “Were you guys eavesdropping?” He asked, clearly not thrilled. He stood up before lending me a hand.

“We couldn’t help it!” The siblings whine simultaneously. “You guys are just too cute together! After all our planning, we just had to know what happened!” Temari cooed. You just covered your face, trying to hide your red face, but you were secretly flattered that Gaara had actually taken the time to plan. “Guys! This was supposed to be a private moment!” Gaara gave them a look.

“You heard her, bye guys, see you later!” With that, he shoved them out of your living room, slamming the door. “At least they’re happy for us?” You suggested, giggling.

Kakashi~

“Don’t be so stubborn, Kakashi-sensei! How hard could it be? You guys are so close, this next step is natural!” Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw Sakura and Ino talking to Kakashi. They were actually getting along?! You pushed down your shock, opting to listen to their conversation from your hidden spot in the tree.

“It’s not that simple, guys. (Y/N) and I haven’t been friends for that long, I’m pretty sure she would turn me down.” You perked up at hearing your name. What were they talking about? “Oh, c’mon! We see the way you look at each other, it’s clear you both like each other!” Ino exclaimed. Your face instantly heated up. Were you that obvious and oblivious? Did he actually like you? That would be a dream come true!

“I don’t know about that… I think it’d be best to wait a little longer before I do that.” Sakura rolled her eyes at his hesitance. “Sensei! There’s nothing to asking someone out, it’s so simple!” Ino complained impatiently. Kakashi crossed his arms. “Oh, is it? Then why hasn’t Sasuke gone out with either of you?” You covered your mouth at the utter brutality, trying not to laugh.

Sakura and Ino screamed incoherently at how that was a totally different story. “Look, Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura exhaled, “we’re just trying to help you. You of all people deserve to be happy and it’s obvious she makes you happy!” You smiled, seeing how she cared for her sensei.

“Sakura is right, said no one ever,” Ino whispered, “how do you know she doesn’t like you if you never ask? But, she’s my sensei! I see the way she smiles more when you’re around. She blushes like a schoolgirl for goodness sake!” Said blush was creeping up your neck as they ruthlessly exposed you.

“I know you girls are right, but how am I supposed to ask her?” Sakura gave him a dubious look. “You’re the one always reading those smutty romances, shouldn’t you know?” A small giggle slipped through your lips. You watched Kakashi smirk suddenly and you swooned. Swooned?! You mentally shook yourself, trying to control your emotions.

“I don’t think asking her will be a problem since she’s been listening to this whole conversation. Come on out, (Y/N).” You were pretty sure your heart dropped down to your feet. You gracefully jumped down from your tree, blushing about fifty shades of red.

“Um, h-hey guys! What’s up?” All three of them gave you flat, unamused looks “C’mon (Y/N)-sensei! What’s your answer?” Ino begged. Kakashi placed a hand on her head. “How about you let me ask her, hm?” Her cheeks went red. “O-oh, right!”

His focus turned back to you. “I know you heard everything, but I really do like you and I want to take you on a proper date.” Sakura rolled her eyes, snorting. “‘Proper’? Have to be on time for that.” Ino punched her, hissing at her to shut up.

You giggled at the pure chaos, but you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I guess it’s good I really like you too. Let’s just hope it’ll just be the two of us!” Sakura and Ino laughed before realizing it wasn’t a joke. “Oh-oh…” Now it was you and Kakashi’s turn to laugh.

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

Even though Pein had seemed cruel and cold in the beginning, he had actually panned out to be a decent human being. Or God, in his not-so-humble opinion. It took six months for you to realize, but you had noticed. He made sure you had everything you needed, food, clothes, your own room… things you hadn’t had consistently in years. You couldn’t hide the fact that you had grown fond of him.

When he sent you on missions they were usually solo, seeing as no one had your stealth and sticky fingers. However, they were always manageable and you were always successful. You had just gotten back from your last mission, you had been sent to eavesdrop on Orochimaru’s meeting with some important what’s-his-name, and you were heading to his office to report back.

You knocked twice, knowing he didn’t like people just barging in. “Enter.” You opened the door, unsurprised to see the Akatsuki leader surrounded by paperwork. “Ah, you’re back sooner than I expected.” You handed him the scroll, filled with your findings. “It was a very to the point meeting, Leader-Sama.” He nodded, exchanging the scroll you gave him for another one.

Your eyebrows furrowed in question. “I know you just got back, but I have one last mission for you. It’s very simple, I have no doubt you’ll finish it before the night is over.” You sighed, at least it was quick.

“Yes, Leader-Sama.” Just as you turned, you heard the carrot head’s voice. “Oh, and (Y/N)? Tell no one of this mission, please. You leave in 30 minutes.” You nodded sharply. “Understood.”

~~~Time Skip Brought By You Stealing Kakuzu’s Money~~~

Your mission was almost too simple, in comparison to what you’d been tasked with before. All you had to do was make your way into a high-end restaurant Pein had gotten you a reservation for. Your goal was to find one of Orochimaru’s contacts and steal an important message he had.

You awkwardly smoothed out the red cocktail dress you had on and moved to look for the man the scroll had described. You didn’t see anyone, so you sat in a corner booth, content to wait. “Can I get you a drink to start you off?” Your attention snapped to the waiter, and you dawned a smile. “Um, I’ll just take a Sake, please.” He nodded, writing it down. “I’ll be right back with that.” He dashed away, revealing someone behind him.

You blinked rapidly trying to make sense of what you were seeing. “Leader-sama?!” You shout-whispered. “What’s going on?! Is something wrong?” He offered you a smile as he sat down across from you. “Not exactly. There was never a mission, I ju-” Anger surged within you.

“You mean to tell me, you brought me on a wild goose chase while I could’ve been sleeping?!”

The man had the nerve to sigh at you. “Just let me explain, okay?” You crossed your arms, waiting for him to explain.

“There is no mission because I wanted to take you out on a date.” You choked on absolutely nothing but your own disbelief. You had developed a soft spot for your leader, but… he wanted to take you on a date?

“Leader-sama-” “Pein,” He interrupted. You nodded slowly. “Pein… why didn’t you just ask me? Like a regular person.” He nodded at the waiter as he brought your drink. “Well, first, I’m a God, so I don’t do things like humans, and second, I didn’t know if you’d say yes.” You laughed a bit. “Well, Pein, that’s usually where asking the person comes in.”

His lips quirked upwards. “Well, we’re already here, aren’t we? We might as well enjoy the night.” You hid your grin (unsuccessfully).

“Yeah, yeah, I suppose. I am pretty hungry.”

Deidara~

Ever since your explosive art exhibit, you had been wondering what had happened to Deidara. It’d been a month since you’d seen him ad frankly, you missed him more than you’d care to admit. Maybe he hadn’t meant what he said?

You hadn’t been up to making ant new art lately and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. Instead, you resigning yourself to a self-pity nap. You’d been resorting to those a lot lately.

You heard your bed creak in the back of your mind, and because you were a light sleeper, you felt yourself begin to wake up. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake up, (Y/N), un.” You blinked for a solid twenty seconds, your tired mind not being able to compute what you were seeing.

Deidara sat next to you, on top of your covers, a half-smile on his face. But what was possibly even more astonishing was the fact that he was wearing an Akatsuki cloak. “Dei…? W-what’re you doing here?” You sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I made you a promise, and I intended to keep it… even if it took me a little longer than I imagined, un.” You still couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

The sweet, charming artist you had come to love was a member of the Akatsuki. “Ah, I see you noticed my cloak, yeah. I figured it was wrong to keep it from you, un.” You just stared, totally stunned. His hand rested on your cheek, gently bringing your gaze up to meet his. “Please say something, (Y/N),” He whispered nervously. “I’m really glad you’re back, Deidara.” And it was the truth, him being an S-ranked criminal didn’t change that. You had no loyalties, no ties, and that gave you no reason to dislike his choices.

“You don’t hate me, un?” You placed your hand over the one that was still placed on your cheek. “The time we spent together, the person I got to know didn’t change in my eyes just because he has certain loyalties. You’re still the funny, wild, and charismatic Deidara I met a month ago.” His smile brightened up the whole room.

“Thank you for waiting for me, I didn’t have a chance to get away from our base, yeah.” You smiled. “It doesn’t matter why, you’re here with me now.” The two of you were silent for a moment before you both burst into laughter. “We sound so corny!” He snickered. You rested a hand on his shoulder to stay upright as your laughter shook your form. “I know right! But, I did mean everything I said, just pretend I phrased it cooler.” Deidara chuckled before his face turned serious.

“Me as well, especially when I say that I’m going to take you on the best date ever before I have to leave. I swear it, un.” You pulled him into a hug, resting your cheek in the crook of his neck. “How much longer do you have?”

His arms snaked around your torso. “Until the end of the night, yeah.” You pulled away, giving him a sly look. “Well, we’d better get going then, huh?”

#shikamaru x reader #sasuke x reader #kiba x reader #kakashi x reader #neji x reader #naruto x reader #gaara x reader #deidara x reader #pein x reader #x reader #imagines #naruto shippuden

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themasterofstudies · 3 years

Text

Deconstructing Mormon Hymns #2

Hymn #259

Hope of Israel, Zion's army,

Children of the Promised Day,

See, The Chieftain signals onward,

And the battle's in array!

Opening strong with some loaded language. Hope, Zion, Promised Day. All words meant to evoke a strong emotional response. That's us! That's who we are. We are Zion, which brings up feelings of paradise and righteousness and happiness. Promised Day? We are fulfilling prophecy, which is exciting! (I could write a whole essay on how telling someone about them fulfilling a prophecy reinforces the need for them to stay in the group for happy brain chemicals, but that's for another time)

Chieftain? Battle? This is a reinforced Us vs. Them song. Battling the forces of evil, a call to action. The intent is to whip us into a (controlled, purposeful) frenzy. Religious zealotry.

[Chorus]

Hope of Israel, rise in might

With the sword of truth and right;

Sound the war cry, “Watch and pray!”

Vanquish ev'ry foe today.

The chorus is the focus of the song. Anything you repeat over and over again is what gets stuck in your head and holds the weight of the message.

Hope of Israel, loaded language. That's us! Rise up! Truth and right are loaded terms too. Those words even out of religious context are heavy emotional triggers, everyone wants to be right and they understand truths and lies. Within the mormon context, those words are loaded with the weight of eternity and responsibility. Sword of truth and right? Literally weaponizing those terms.

A War cry of “watch and pray” is ominous. Sit on the edge of your seat in perpetuity. Also, watch us mow down your friends and family with our sword, and pray to whatever god you have cuz it isn't the right one and you will die for it.

The final line is chilling. Vanquish every foe today. Choose our way of doing things or die.

What counts as a foe? Anyone who isn't us, as described in the verse. And we sing this 4 times.

See the foe in countless numbers,

Marshaled in the ranks of sin.

Hope of Israel, on to battle;

Now the vict'ry we must win!

Foe, sin, countless numbers. Insurmountable odds. Makes us feel like underdogs, and everyone likes a good underdog story. Again, reinforces the Us vs Them theme. A battle we MUST win. No choice here, give it your all. Coupled with the chorus, it doubles down on the weaponizing of the religion and rhetoric.

Strike for Zion, down with error;

Flash the sword above the foe!

Ev'ry stroke disarms a foeman'

Ev'ry step we conq'ring go

This verse doesn't even need loaded language, the regular language is dangerous enough. Strike for your people, down with error. Your people are right, no wiggle room here. Error? Simple mistakes are met with the sword. Violence. Conquering and swinging swords as they march along. Bring in the chorus and it's becoming concerning. Load the language, and it's the same stuff you hear in a terrorist manifesto. Zion, foe, conquering. I personally think of Ammon literally cutting off people's arms.

I want to bring up the first line again. Down with error. Not only does this line tell your enemies the criteria for being met with a sword, but you and the congregation tells each other the message too: Going against what we believe will be met with the sword. This reinforces the fear of becoming a Them, and keeps people captive in the belief system.

Soon the battle will be over

Ev'ry foe of truth be down.

Onward, Onward, youth of Zion'

Thy reward the victor's crown

Soon is so vague and never ending. How soon? How long must we plod on? How long must we swing the sword?

Until every foe of truth is gone. That's a long line of people. Again, it's anyone not with you. Anti mormon literature? Random news stations? Anyone not willing to go along with the theocracy? All of those people will be met with the sword. So we must keep swinging our swords until we die? Pretty much.

The reward? Nothing about paradise, no specific promises. Just victory. Now, this is vague on purpose. We can imagine whatever we think victory means, and what we would want from it. The result is that we think swinging the sword is worth it.

Lets talk musicality. Steady marching song, what I'd expect from a religious battle cry. Triumphant, upbeat, and generally the chorus is sung so powerfully and loudly that it's obvious that's where the emphasis is. It becomes a driving force, by the end you feel like you have won, like you will earn the victory. It whips us into a frenzy, rabid for proving ourselves on the battlefield. It encourages giving no quarter, accepting no surrender or compromise. Keep marching and swinging your sword until either the battle is won or you die. When the music stops, it feels like a vacuum in the chapel or room. The energy of the music has vanished, and so where is that power supposed to go? Internalized. Either in the prayer given immediately afterward, or in the next talk, while you sit in the pew and feel invigorated from your renewed sense of purpose.

TL;DR: Battle song that positively portrays religious terrorism.

#exmormon #exmo #ex lds #ex cult #deconstructing mormon hymns #ex evangelical #turns out I'm bored and this is a really good project #apostake #ex mormon #ex mo #im feeling very exmo in this chilis tonight

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mememanufactorum · 4 years

Text

Ace Combat 7 quotes

* Feel free to share as you please, no credit needed. Change pronouns or anything else as desired.

“Does the color of the sky mean anything special to you?”

“When I close my eyes, the sky in my dreams… is a deep, dark blue.”

“I don’t see anything good comin’ from that.”

“They taught me their skills and some dirty jokes.”

“Laugh at it all you want, kid. But technology’s always changing. If you don’t keep up with it, it’ll leave your ass behind.”

“Time to stop the bullshit.”

“Let’s go introduce ourselves.”

“This is the kinda shit that really chaps my ass!”

“Hesitating for a split second could be the difference between life and death. Stay sharp, think fast.”

“Don’t try to be a hero. I want you to make it back in one piece, y’hear?”

“No point arguing. That’s how war is these days.”

“Just worry about staying alive for now.”

“I’m buying dinner for anyone who takes down an enemy.”

“You shoot, someone gets killed. The guys in charge take care of the rest.”

“[name], time to show the other guys that we get wet, wild, and do dirty, dirty things.”

“They have to be crazy to pick a fight with us! Even a rabid dog would know better!”

“…I said what I had to say.”

“Not a girl who’d retreat. Just not in her DNA.”

“No, I should’ve never let a fledgling like her out of my reach to begin with.”

“This place is a shithole.”

“They just killed a hero!”

“…It must’ve been a mistake.”

“Of all the ways to get killed, that’s gotta be the most pathetic one ever, am I right?”

“Maybe I should give that guy a thank-you note for killing him…”

“Wooohooo! My blood’s boiling!”

“Always in the know, aren’t you?”

“Settle down. Excited to have another murderer with you?”

“If any of you die, just think of it as you atoning for your crimes.”

“I decide when you die.”

“Who’s gonna dance to your lying tune?”

“I’ll show you all how it’s done.”

“I got all dressed up for nothing.”

“Anyone up for some poker tonight?”

“Don’t let it go to your head, murderer.”

“I lost a lot of money for that, [name]. Don’t forget.”

“Yet, what is a nation? Can we actually see the physical lines that divide one from another?”

“Don’t pretend like you deserve any better!”

“You really are too good at murdering people, [name].”

“Stick with the best if you want to survive.”

“If anyone wants to die, let ‘em.”

“Keep yapping away, little guard dog!”

“You’ll pay for that.”

“Where’s your sense of humor, guys? Your buddy’s making a joke. Laugh already!”

“Wait. Who’s the dumbass that came up with this batshit plan?”

“Things don’t always go perfectly.”

“As they say in my house, there’s a thin line between bravery and stupidity.”

“Nice work for a dumbass.”

“You’re in no position to call someone a devil, [name]. Don’t make me laugh.”

“I ain’t afraid of it!”

“I want to understand the enemy.”

“My status? Well, I’m feeling a little excited.”

“[name], kindness gets you killed.”

“Only an idiot would be brave enough to pull off those moves.”

“[name] went down crying like a baby. I knew he was all bark and no bite. The coward.”

“Man, I’m not in the mood for this shit today. I’m gonna blow some stuff up to let off steam.”

“No time to smell the roses, then.”

“Enough with the holier-than-thou attitude.”

“Shut the hell up. This has nothing to do with me.”

“You sound like you know something.”

“If you think that’s all you need to survive, you might as well get your last rites now.”

“You did that on purpose, [name].”

“…It was an accident. It got out of control.”

“Adios, you damn fool.”

“It was an accident, so shut up.”

“[name], it’s a breath of fresh air having you out here.”

“Save your sermons for someone who cares, preacher.”

“You wouldn’t understand, [name]. Not until you take a good look in the mirror.”

“Sorry, but I’m gonna eat while I work. My judgment goes fuzzy when I’m too hungry.”

“How can you talk about food?”

“That girl swears more than me.”

“It’s not just the swearing either. She’s got quick fists too.”

“That ain’t funny.”

“I think tonight’s the night we finally open that bottle.”

“I could really perform if only I had some partners I could trust.”

“No need to worry, I got your back. Relax and do your thing.”

“I’m buying you a beer later!”

“You never learn, do you?”

“What are you scheming?”

“Ugh… [name], do not fubar this!”

“Knock that off. Push yourself too hard, and you’re dead.”

“Is it really over now?”

“Are we gonna eat the whole thing?”

“Yeah. We got our hands dirty for nothing.”

“But home means something different to each and every one of us.”

“That went about as expected.”

“Never was good at jokes.”

“Be quick. Gotta deliver on time, or the pizza’s free.”

“Your jokes haven’t gotten any better.”

“We’ve even brought pizza.”

“To tell you the truth… I’m not sure I wanted to know the answers anymore.”

“Cute. No, that’s real funny.”

“Y’know, I think we might stand a chance out here.”

“Man, don’t jinx us.”

“This should prove to be fun.”

“If we keep this up, someone’s not going home.”

“You’re quite the entertainer, but the show’s over with this next shot.”

“Stay strong. We’re not done here.”

“Shit! This guy’s too tough.”

“You can do it! In fact, you’re the only one who can!”

“As far as the chaos we find ourselves in these days, it’s difficult to say which side pulled the trigger first.”

“All that remained was chaos and confusion.”

“Oh, and uh, hand me that sandwich.”

“Please, watch over the future we build from the high heavens.”

“Who do we turn to in this darkest hour? We need a beacon of light to show us the way…”

“Right. I’m shooting them down. Any complaints?”

“Hey, not our fault they won’t listen to reason.”

“Whoever did is the king of all dumbasses.”

“Today… I lost everything.”

“After all those speeches I gave about working together for peace… I thought everyone felt the same as I did.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Just what did you see here?”

“Well now we know what’s going on, but… Shit.”

“Right. We leave the wounded… This’ll guarantee us a one-way ticket to hell.”

“I’ve heard that line before.”

“Damn it! In this crazy mess, I’ve got plenty to pay attention to other than your dirty ass!”

“I need you to help some people.”

“And who’s taking this to the enemy’s doorstep? Not me.”

“Wait, you moron!”

“What are you doing, dumbass?!”

“A few more crazies like her and life down there may have been a tad bit easier.”

“You never told me that!”

“That’s just a stereotype.”

“All I did was state my honest opinion and I was thrown in jail for it.”

“That’s not the way I heard it.”

“You take, if you want to live. That was how it was where I grew up.”

“I feel like we’re a group of burglars.”

“Don’t say that. This is for our survival.”

“A miss, as expected. But a lucky shot would be boring.”

“Don’t waste your life. Dedicate it to reclaiming that which you call home.”

“Furthermore, you must find someone to guide you.”

“I am not that person.”

“Don’t die. As long as we’re alive, our hopes and dreams live on.”

“Why do you feel the need to continue fighting on your own?”

“Let me test him, then, to see if he’s truly worthy.”

“If they are not enough, then I must put my soul into it.”

“There are people like you in every generation. And I’ve felled every last one of them.”

“This was all due to my ego.”

“I unleashed pure chaos upon this world just so I could keep my wings.”

“We have to learn to put that sense of nostalgia behind us and behave like mature adults.”

“This isn’t a rebellion. This is a battle for independence.”

“The time has come to show the enemy the true meaning of patriotism!”

“I, for one, did not see that coming.”

“Ha! Just what kind of magic did you work there, you asshole?”

“It wasn’t magic. It was a scam.”

“Besides, if you thought it was impossible you wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Even in death, that thing is intimidating.”

“I don’t care what country anyone’s from. What counts is knowing who the real enemy is. Right guys?”

“I think everybody here knows the score. We all know who to follow.”

“That was definitely the most intense thing I’ve ever been in.”

“I’ve got a special bottle of wine for occasions like this. What do you say we open it?”

“Hey, [name], you dumbass. Tell me something. What color’s the sky up there?”

“I never wanted to create anything and now here I am, clinging to life.”

“Is this my punishment, then?”

“Y’know what having peace in the world means? It’s being able to die in your own bed, at a ripe, old age.”

“Dark blue… To the heavens and beyond.”

“Can you hear me?”

#Ace Combat 7 #Ace Combat #roleplay meme #roleplay prompt #rp meme #rp prompt

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kacychase · 3 years

Text

After the reawakening [EzarelxMC]

[Commentary: Please understand that all of this has my heart inserted into this after paying too much for a game dear to me, yet disappointing. Beemov, I hate to bother you as it seems to be a waste of time, but please… Listen to your readers, at least to the demographic you aim for and their constructive criticism. Your game has so much potential, it could be so much more, and it breaks my heart that it’s not. Please, for our sake… We have been loyal to you for so long. This fanfic is here because I loved the original story and characters – with its flaws all included, and ultimately, we love your characters (at least the original), and just want a game that gives them justice, that doesn’t make us feel used more so than enjoying a story]

Warnings: cheesy, so damn cheesy, level of extra layers of cheese, ALSO CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BOTH ORIGINS AND NEW ERA SEASONS

Works: Ezarel (this one) | Nevra | Valkyon | Leiftan (Valkyon and Leiftan in the works)

When I chose you

It felt right.

The way you held me tight,

The way you would brighten

Up my day would

Bring sparkles in your eyes

That I wouldn’t be able to forget.

When things went south,

When people silenced my mouth,

When you let me down,

It took my time to count on you again.

Yet, here I stand, in your arms,

In your scent and your comfort,

In your loving embrace, forever.

Crystal or not, you were an ever-lasting

believer in me when I was in need.

Who could blame you for leaving,

for your sacrifice or getting

Over me?

In the end, I love you, still,

And whether you come back or not,

All of the memories, the emotions

Will never escape them,

Even if Mnemosyne’s spell

Would compel me to do so.

Nothing would make me get over you.

Nothing would make me want to lose you again.

My sacrifice should not be in vain,

And your happiness is what I need to

See as best for you.

Yet… Just so you know,

I love you still, and have not forgotten.

[Ezarel]

It has been… A while, apparently. The war has worn all of us down, and I can’t imagine that Ezarel wasn’t caught with it’s consequences either. I wouldn’t have wanted for Valkyon to die, for Ezarel to lose me, for Ykhar to die, for Leiftan and me to sacrifice ourselves, or just all of this death to happen around me. But, here I am, selfish enough to hope, and to dream of a future with the man I grew to love 7 years ago.

I have travelled on a Chau’Kobow for seemingly weeks. Huang Hua has granted me the wish to travel to him after a letter has forewarned him. It took a lot, and I repeat, a lot of convincing to ask that of her. Why would Ezarel want to retreat with Twylda and Marie-Anne in a completely different place? I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. The crystal seems to need me less and less, and Mathieu will have to suffice to explain the whole ordeal with the human world molding with ours.

Hoping that his reaction won’t be as cold as Nevra’s, I ask myself more often than not if I am desperate with what I am doing, and try to avoid the obvious.

When I arrive at the destination, in the far horizon of this clear grass, I can see it – a house, far away from all the trouble. It feels like yesterday when he asked me if we could just ditch the guard once the whole war would be over.

I still wouldn’t hesitate to take the offer… But would he?

Only one way to find out. With a deep, shaky breath, I approach the far house with an increasing pulse. My whole body practically aches to hug him again.

As I come closer, I realize that the whole village seems to be part of a more peaceful and modest community. Having got to know Ezarel, I bet it would be a change of heart to his former life – a complete new beginning. It must be just what he wanted.

Slowly, I get down from the Shau’kobow, taking the last steps to the house. I can’t help but take deep breaths again and again, but it wouldn’t work on slowing my heartbeat.

The door is nice and wooden, just as modest as the town and it’s surroundings. I even see my own hand shiver when I try to knock on the door when suddenly, I a loud noise of heavy weights falling on the ground from behind me alerts me.

Turning around, I instinctively lay a hand on my weapon.

And there he stands. His mouth and eyes are wide open as he watches me, apparently, the sound came from him dropping a few wood logs. Hopefully, none hit him!

But even when I want to ask if he’s okay, if he wasn’t hurt, it’s as if his eyes held me in place. My body begins to shake even more brutally, and I can see how his wide-eyed expression doesn’t change. Please, don’t let this be a mistake. I wouldn’t be able to bear it…

“Gardienne,” he practically breathes out, as if it stole air from his lungs.

It feels like hours that we look at each other like this. His now wilder, untied blue hair and his ears of course are some of the first indicators of my Ezarel. But his outfit, his demeanor seems much less elegant, witty and intricate. He is wearing a simple top, pants, a belt and boots, seemingly uncaring of his poise. While he (luckily) hasn’t grown the moustache that he has once pranked me with, I can see that he seems more muscular, and that this life has changed him.

And I wasn’t there to see him.

But now I’m here.

Without wanting to, my vision blurs from all the tears that roll down my cheeks, and I can just see that he is going through the same thing.

“How are you doing?” I ask him with a crack in my voice. Seriously, Gardy, can’t you ask for a better thing? He hasn’t seen you for seven years and might have moved on from you, and this is what you ask first?

“I-“

All of a sudden, he approaches me, his eyes still focused on nothing else but my frame. Again, it feels like we are in a bubble again that we have had when we were still in a relationship… It feels like yesterday for me.

Not daring to move until he would be okay with embracing me, he, agonizingly slowly, reaches out a hand to my face. Overall, his shaky hand seems to be moving in slow-motion as he wipes a tear away. Understanding that he might not understand what I might talk about, he finally, finally opens his mouth to speak.

“You’re back? This is not a dream?”

In his voice, I can sense so much pain… Should I have not come? Should I have stayed away after all? The sudden thought ties up my thought, but feeling his hand resting on my cheek is so unbelievably calming. Hesitantly, I lay my hand on his.

“No. Should I pinch you to prove it?” I ask back with a small smile, seeing him smirk back.

“Please do,” he whispers, his voice sore.

Shortly after, I pinch him. His little smirk suddenly disappears as his body crashes against mine and he hugs me all of a sudden. the way he holds me incredibly tight, as if I could vanish any moment. As if time was ticking.

“I’m so sorry, Ezarel. I came back as soon as I could,” I whisper. This time, unlike the times before, he seems to have openly welcomed me, and again, I can see how much the elf has grown ever since the encounter.

I see how his simplicity and aura has toned down a little in its absolutely brash energy, and how much he has missed me. Uncaring of the danger of possibly choking, I tighten my grip around him.

We are shivering in place, and neither of us can say a word.

It feels as if an old system in body has awoken, and finally, it has clicked as to where I belong. Silently, I hear him laugh while his tears drop onto my clothes. This moment I do cherish.

His usual humor seems to have been swallowed in this moment, as he suddenly holds me back by an arm length, and orders me to please go inside and sit – he will just pick up the logs. Of course, I wouldn’t without helping him out, so I grin at him with a telling look.

An exhausted smile is plastered on his face. I can’t help but stare at him a bit before I bend down to pick up the rather heavy logs. After that has been done, both of us give us a look to ensure the other is fine. It must be strange for him to suddenly see me after 7 years.

Soon after, he hurries to the door to open the door. “Why, aren’t you a forthcoming gentleman today?” I smile at him, but his facial expression doesn’t seem as responsive. His smile is weaker as he says: “You learn a lot with two women around you.”

Right. Twylda and Marie-Anne must have made an impression on him. I can’t help but smirk at the image of them reprimanding him for his manners. “Why, if such a chivalrous gentleman appeared in front of me, I would have considered coming sooner,” I try to lighten up the mood, but I might have been too early.

Staring at me, he just drops the log into the corner of the room, and I decide to just do the same. While I see some elegant pieces of vials, and a little bit of a laboratory. I recognize quite a bit from his room and remember what I have seen in his vision. It’s funny how colorful his interior is in comparison to the modest wooden house. Maybe he hasn’t changed that much after all?

Standing at the side of the couch where he has sat himself down, I ask him: “May I sit?” He looks up at me, heightening his brows. He nods, following my movements with his piercing green eyes. With a hand gesture and a nod, he tells me to sit on the sofa next to him.I do so, but with well-kept space as to not overwhelm. For a while, there’s nothing but silence. This time, it’s me who initiates the conversation. “How are Marie-Anne and Twylda?” As he looks back at me with a lopsided smile, he tells me about their state. How they have helped each other to rebuild a new life, a new identity. Marie-Anne, the now healed young woman – who has grown to pass my age – has come back to the state of a helpful human being, with the help of him and Twylda. As well, the two women were able to come to a better path. Honestly, as he tells these things, they seem so incredibly unreal. When I remember Twylda screaming at us to let her to Marie-Anne as she was transported into the H.Q., she wanted nothing but to harm her. She had a lot to go through during those times, and I try to avoid thinking of the events in detail. But as I have heard in the past, I have seen videos on Youtube with a reported case in which the mother would forgive the murderer of their son, even raise them as one of their own. While it appears as a mystery to me, I am neither supposed to judge, nor do I have to understand. If both are happy, that’s all I care about.Well, that, and of course the elf who is telling me about them.“I’m sorry that I left, Gardienne.”Those words suddenly suck all of the established ease out of this room. For the first time since I have arrived, he averts his gaze. “I couldn’t stand the guard anymore. All the pressure, the tasks, all the memories to this place, and… you,” he takes a deep breath to continue. I just shake my head, knowing that he must have had a terribly hard time processing everything.Wouldn’t I also be overwhelmed if he has sacrificed himself for a cause, having me wait for months back then? And with all that happened… The war, the murders, the deaths, betrayals and other dangerous situations, who would I be to blame him?“It’s okay. I heard what you said as goodbye, and I understood. I still do, Ezarel,” I murmur, looking at him and putting my hand on his cheek. His eyes seem to become glassy again.“We’re here now,” I whisper with a smile, “And I am glad that you were doing okay after all. I’ve had a very strong boyfriend.”Swallowing hard, I realize that I don’t know about that aspect yet, and as his eyes shine with so much emotion and compassion, he just mumbles: “I don’t have anyone as of yet. I wasn’t interested, and something told me to wait.” His little smile shocks me in combination with his words. “I guess my instincts were right to do so.”Seven years.It’s been seven years, and he has waited for me. His eyes seem like a confirmation for me to go on, and I immediately lean into him to kiss him with all the passion that I have feared of losing inside the crystal. I was ready to give up on that to save him. And here we are…Did fate finally give me a happy ending?Once we separate to breathe in fresh air, his hands hugging me loosen up to look at me.His eyes shine with love that warm my whole body, and I can’t believe that this is going so fluently. “So, I hope you don’t mind accompanying this chivalrous gentleman in the future?” His eyebrow raises, but I can see that he is happy about me coming.The way I respond might be one of the most typical aspects of our relationship. Tipping with my index finger on my chin, I act pensive saying: “Hmmm… If there was payment involved, maybe I’d consider it? I’m hotly desired, you know?”His smile brightens, and it’s as if our compatibility would never be questioned.We would spend this night together, and the one after, and the days after that to slowly get back to each other.When him and I would strengthen each other in his alchemy business, I realize that he was right with running off all along. He’s all I need after all.

~~> Very cheesy fin

#eldarya #eldaryafanfiction #ezarel #eldarya new era #ezarelxgardienne #ezarelfanfic #eldaryafanfic

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