#East Coast Main Line
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Made a turn by King's Cross to have a look at their relatively new family waiting room on my trip to London last week. I was there mainly for the model railway, but the whole set-up is so brilliant I thought it really did warrant a bit more coverage.
Opening in 2022, the family waiting room features a variety of seating areas and a play area to keep children entertained while they wait for their train, and its design includes lots of references to the heritage of the East Coast Main Line, aiming to pique the interest of young travellers in the hope that it might bloom into a career in the rail industry. In all honesty, the thinking does seem a little cliche and almost politicised, but I still love the idea of a place where some thought is put into the experience of travel in an age when experience isn't nearly as frequently enough of a consideration as it should be. Raising a family can be challenging, and travelling with one even more so, so if we want to encourage families to travel at all, let alone by public transport, then putting the effort into creating places where children can be engaged and occupied during periods of waiting can go a long way to help.
#King's Cross#public transport#East Coast Main Line#National Rail#railway station#model train#heritage#LNER#history#British Railways#steam train#urban design#transport planning#family friendly#Flying Scotsman#Mallard#LNER Azuma#class 91#London#King's Cross Station#family waiting room#careers#rail industry#family area#passenger experience#London & North Eastern Railway#LNER 4468 Mallard#LNER 4472 Flying Scotsman#Azuma#Intercity Express Train
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First Passenger Trains Run to City of London with Digital Signalling
The first trains have carried passengers to the City of London using European Train Control System (ETCS) digital signalling. This marks a significant milestone for the 1.4 billion GBP East Coast Digital Programme, which aims to make rail services more reliable and more sustainable through the implementation of digital signalling. Project lead and qualified driver Oliver Turner joined the team…
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#digitalisation#East Coast Main Line#ETCS#Govia Thameslink Railway#Network Rail#Railway Signalling#Science and Technology#Siemens Mobility#United Kingdom
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Battinson Guest Starring on TV Shows
SO
For someone who holds the title of Richest Man in the World, Bruce doesn’t do a lot of traveling.
Which is to say he does a LOT of traveling, but he always tries to find a way out of it.
(Are there bat-related reasons for this? Are there people-related reasons for this? Are there anxiety-related reasons for this? Who knows?)
But partners and sponsors aren’t always going to tolerate his hermit-like tendencies. So once every month or so, Alfred wrangles Bruce into a private jet and sends him off to who knows where so he can represent the company.
Usually, it’s somewhere close on the East Coast, maybe it’s across the pond, even Asia isn’t off the table, but the rarest place to spot Bruce Wayne is actually the West Coast of the US.
One day, it is announced that Bruce Wayne will be spending two (count ‘em, 2) consecutive weeks in California with his kids for some grand business convention.
The West Coast media goes feral with the news, ESPECIALLY interviewers. And because Bruce kicks up such a fuss this time, Alfred has the gall to sign him up for FOUR TV appearances.
Here are these appearances :)
RuPaul’s Drag Race
Drag Queens, especially Drag Race all-stars, contribute to a wide variety of charities
So on a new episode, the queens are challenged to design and shoot a promotional ad for their own charity
And who better to act as a guest judge for this episode than the show’s largest benefactor, CEO of the Wayne Foundation, Bruce Wayne?!
Physically? He’s older than half of the contestants. But spiritually? He screams Baby Gay.
Fifteen minutes into the episode, Bruce is welcomed into the werkroom where he gives them pointers on their campaign. He’s in his cute little three-piece suit (Alfred’s idea) with the intention of looking put-together and knowledgeable. But that’s not the only outcome.
They all flirt with him. Everyone, single or taken. The confessionals are so thirsty.
“He’s lucky the cameras are on. Otherwise, I’d eat him up faster than a bachelorette party in a buffet line.”
“My celebrity crush is talking to me, and all I can focus on are his gorgeous eyes. How am I supposed to know what he's saying?”
Of course, they shoot their shot, but most of it is joking since they don't know he's bi yet.
“Are you single, honey?” Bruce blushes. “It’s complicated.” “Well, I’ll make it simple for you.”
We all know this man can't handle being flirted with. We saw how he froze when Selina did it. It’s like he mentally bluescreens when someone calls him a pet name.
Only THEN do they learn he's bi
One of the queens jokingly asks him, “Ever been with a man before?” thinking it would be a firm no, but Bruce says, “Actually, yes.” “Oh shit, really?” And to Bruce’s embarrassment, the whole room hears him.
The flirting is thus taken up a notch.
On the main stage, Bruce has a lot of great constructive criticism. He talks about how to find the right audience, the importance of a good slogan, and even goes on a little rant about logo design.
(You cannot convince me that Bruce hasn’t hyperfixated on the business of charity work before. Or the science of marketing. They’re his favorite business topics.)
After about three minutes of him complimenting one contestant for their Drag Library pitch, he stops himself mid-sentence and says, “Oh sorry, am I talking too much?” “No, please! Keep talking, sweetheart.” Bruce covers his face to hide his blush. “Why is everyone flirting with me?” “Baby, have you seen yourself?”
While the judges deliberate, RuPaul mentions Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve, and Talent. Bruce nods along for a while then suddenly just blurts out, “Wait, does it spell ****?”
The judges pause then burst out laughing. “Oh no, we’ve traumatized him!" Bruce is blushing up a storm. “I just never thought about it like that!” “Sweet, innocent Bruce. We’re so sorry.”
It’s later revealed that Bruce offered to help some of the queens launch their charity projects through the Wayne Foundation.
It’s v cute 🥰
Nailed It!
I love Nicole Byer.
She is Mother.
In all seriousness, she’s so fucking funny and she’s personable enough to pull Bruce out of his shell a bit.
The theme for this episode is Found Family. Three pairs of family members compete together—a gay father and his adopted son, an aunt who adopted her niece, and a stepfather and stepdaughter.
Because Bruce Wayne famously adopted two children, he is invited to guest judge.
So Nicole opens the episode with a zinger, the contestants are introduced, and Bruce is welcomed onto the judge’s panel beside Nicole and Jacques.
(Yes, Bruce does speak French. Yes, Nicole makes a joke about it being hot.)
Nicole: “We were surprised you accepted our invitation, Mr. Wayne. You’re notorious for staying on the East Coast. What brought you to the Nailed It! Studio?” Bruce: “My children love this show. They always tell me I should be on it since I’m so bad at baking.” Nicole: “Really? Maybe we should do a celebrity season of Nailed It! and have you compete.” Bruce: “No, you should not.”
Nicole: “So, Bruce, I know you have a butler at home who bakes for you. But what’s the grossest thing you’ve eaten? Escargot? Bad caviar?” Bruce: “I drank olive oil straight from the bottle once.” Nicole: “…What?”
The problem for Bruce is he can’t say anything bad. It just feels mean :(
(And he would rather jump into oncoming traffic than gamble with a social interaction)
For the first challenge, the contestants make cake pops. But when Bruce tries the first one, there is a sickening crunch. Bruce’s eyes widen for a second and he slowly chews.
Nicole: “What was that? Bruce, are you okay?” Bruce, clearly struggling: “It’s…good.”
“Bruce, you can spit it out. It’s okay.” “I already swallowed it.” “Oh, you poor thing.” Bruce chokes for a second, and Nicole pats his back. “Please don’t die. We can’t afford it.”
For the big challenge, production has a surprise in store for Bruce.
Dick (9) and Jason (7) run onto the set and smother Bruce with a hug.
It’s adorable. Bruce no longer cares about paying attention, okay? His kids are here :D
The two boys read from cue cards to announce the second challenge: a three-tiered Gotcha Day cake. And as per tradition, the winner of the first challenge gets a leg-up.
This time, it’s a Helping Hands Button. When they hit the button, Dick and Jason will run over and help them for three minutes. (While being supervised, of course.)
As the contestants bake, Nicole says hello to Dick and Jason, who are clambering all over Bruce like a jungle gym. They both shake her hand and talk about how they love the show.
Nicole looks pointedly at the two empty chairs beside Bruce. “You know, we brought these chairs for you two to sit in.” Dick, on Bruce’s shoulders: “We’re fine, Ms. Byer!” Nicole: “Ms. Byer? Oh, you’re a cutie, aren’t you?”
Just ten minutes before the challenge is over, the Helping Hands button is pressed, and Dick and Jason are given stools so they can help the aunt and niece stack their cake tiers.
Two minutes in, the aunt instructs them to let go of the cake. But the moment Jason pulls his hands away, the cake topples over and covers him in frosting. Jason, whispering: “Oh f*ck.” Bruce: “Jason!” Jason: “I didn’t say that! Dick did!” Nicole: *cackling as Bruce buried his face in his hands*
Jason gets cleaned up, and Dick helps them stack what can still be salvaged.
When Wes brings out the trophy, he’s dressed as Batman. Dick and Jason gets a kick out of that.
Celebrity Family Feud
Bruce was invited to the show after his SNL skit went viral a few months ago
This episode, the teams are split up by cities they grew up in. Gotham v. Star City. Naturally, his team is playing for the Wayne Foundation.
It’s a pretty odd cast of people, most of them having moved to LA or Hollywood. Bruce is the only one to still live in Gotham.
They have fun, though, despite their limited common ground. The audience has a few good laughs.
(Some at Bruce's expense)
Harvey: You're a very wealthy man, Mr. Wayne. What do you really do in that tower all day? Bruce: I, uh…business? Harvey: …You business. Bruce: ……Wait-
All in good fun. Bruce just vibes in his little corner until he needs to answer a question. It's pretty chill.
For exactly half of the episode.
Then it happens.
Steve Harvey takes two people from each team up to the buzzer and says, “We asked 100 people: Name something your parents always told you as a kid.”
What the production failed to consider is how this particular question might be a sensitive topic for some contestants.
Bruce’s team gets the question, and Steve saunters up to Bruce, completely oblivious.
“Alright, Bruce Wayne!” Bruce nods awkwardly. “Hi, Steve.” “Bruce, what’s wrong? You’re looking a bit uncomfortable.” “…I don’t like this question, Steve.” “Why not?” Bruce just gives him a desperate look, and it clicks. “Oh! Oh my gosh!”
Let’s be real. Bruce is awkward enough, but Steve Harvey cannot save an awkward moment for his life either.
But he tries his best anyway and asks, “Are you okay with answering this question, or would you like to pass?” Bruce nods frantically. “I can answer. ‘I love you.’” “I love you too, Mr. Wayne.” “No, uh, my answer is ‘I love you.’” “Oh! That’s a good one.”
Thankfully, the audience erupts in laughter. That little interaction cuts the tension, and Bruce’s answer ends up on the board.
And by god, the memes
“I love you too, Mr. Wayne” is the new “Enjoy your meal.” “You too.”
The audio clip of “I don’t like this question, Steve” goes viral on TikTok
Someone gets a pic of Bruce and Steve looking at each other with palpable fear in their eyes, and it makes its rounds all over Twitter
10/10 never again
Running Wild with Bear Grylls
Now this is the most challenging. Not because it’s difficult, of course. But because Bruce has to look stupid enough to maintain his Brucie Wayne persona but smart enough to keep himself safe.
For this episode, Bear takes Bruce to the California desert.
“How much do you know about survival, Bruce?” Bear asks. Bruce nods carefully. “I did some survival training once with a friend from boarding school.” “Oh really, how did you do?” “Fine, I think.”
This is, of course, his way of saying I trained with a league of assassins for years, but Bear can’t know that! And that’s how most of the episode goes.
Thank god Bruce's fear of being caught is mistaken for being scared of the physical challenge because every time Bear points out how well he’s doing, he breaks into a sweat.
Bear: For a businessman, you’re surprisingly fit. Bruce, sweating bullets: Oh, this is all just for show.
Bear: Wow, you’re a natural. Are you sure you’ve never set up a zip-line before? Bruce, gripping his equipment so tight he gets rope burn: I think it’s just the survival instincts.
Of course, he pretends to be out of breath a few times. The Drama.
Bruce, pretending to slip and fall: Ouch! Who knew the outdoors were so dangerous? Bear, you are crazy. Bruce, internally: How much longer are we doing this?
Bruce being a vegetarian is actually a point of contention. You see, Bear always makes their celebrity guests do something crazy for food like skin a snake or eat a mouse. Scavenging for berries just doesn’t grab the audience’s attention.
But do you know what is vegetarian?
Bear: Now, in extreme cases of survival, it’s not rare for humans to resort to drinking their own pee. That’s what we’ll be doing in a moment. Are you up for it? Bruce, visibly repulsed: I’ve had Gotham tap water. I’ll be fine.
How on God’s Green Earth did Alfred convince him to do this?
To get to the extraction point, Bear takes Bruce down a cliffside.
Bear shows Bruce the meticulous process of properly belaying from the top of a cliff, and Bruce, who has done this over 100 times is like, “Wow that’s so dangerous :( Will we be okay?”
He really tries to ramp up his acting skills this time.
(Little does he know that’s not necessary.)
Bruce goes down first as Bear belays with a cameraman filming from the top. Halfway down, Bruce hears a scuffle, and the cameraman yells, “F*ck!”
Bruce looks up, arms already out for protection, and he sees a small disk falling towards him. It’s the lens cap. He catches it on instinct.
For a second, he thinks, “Shit, was that too skilled? That’s not enough to make people think I’m Batman, right? I just caught it in midair while dangling from a cliff. That’s totally not weird and suspicious. Normal people do that—“
Then Bear yells, “Bruce, drop it!” Bruce looks up at Bear, confused. “Why?” “There's a scorpion!” That’s when Bruce looks at the lens cap and sees a black scorpion perched on top with its tail ready to strike.
They don’t have those in Gotham.
Bruce jumps in his harness and flings the cap at the rocky cliffside. He hears a crunch, and the scorpion and cap tumble to the ground. Bruce frowns. Can a scorpion survive that drop?
“You just killed a scorpion, mate!” Bear cries. Bruce looks up in horror. “I killed it?!” “Hell yeah!” Bruce’s face falls. “No!”
Because oh. shit.
Bruce just killed something. The sad, orphaned vegetarian just killed a scorpion.
Bruce has a meltdown.
He didn’t mean to kill it!!!! Oh no, he just killed an innocent little creature. Yeah, he punches people for fun sometimes, and he definitely put a few violent criminals in the hospital, but he’s never committed MURDER!!
This poor little scorpion died due to his own negligence, and he feels so so so bad about it.
Bruce is a mess as he climbs the rest of the way down.
Bruce, cradling the scorpion’s body: I don’t know how to perform CPR on a scorpion! Bear: Bruce, you took its head clean off. Bruce: *sad noises*
Legit inconsolable. To him, it’s like he just murdered a puppy
Once they're out, Bear is trying to cheer him up. Bless him.
Bear: We’ve conquered the wild! Haven’t we, Bruce? Bruce, head between his legs, still mourning the scorpion: I’m never going outside again.
Yeah, no one’s going to think he’s Batman after that.
And that's all four of Bruce's TV appearances from the West Coast :) Dick and Jason never let him live any of it down. Alfred is almost sorry. (He is not sorry.)
Let me know your thoughts! What other TV shows do you think Battinson would appear on as a guest?
Okie dokie :D Love y'all! Have a good day <3
#RIP scorpion#bruce donates $10 million to the preservation of California wildlife to atone for his sins#battinson#bruce wayne#batman#the batman 2022#batman 2022#the batman#battinson needs a hug#dc universe#soft bruce wayne#gotham#rupaul's drag race#nailed it#celebrity family feud#running wild with bear grylls#dick grayson#jason todd#alfred pennyworth#long post#long long post
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I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.
I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be.
But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate.
This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified.
I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.
How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map.
I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle.
If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more.
I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop.
But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments.
So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on.
But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not.
They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways.
These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine.
Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war.
No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.
But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this:
I am a Jew.
Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love.
I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners.
Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee!
Then they sent me this:
I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.
Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die.
For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind.
But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake.
I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.
I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired.
And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.
But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people?
There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.
But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews.
So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.
I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like.
I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for.
I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.
But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war.
When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.
My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why.
I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be.
Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!
EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍
Source Reading
The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications
Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn
Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha
I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg
The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes
Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board
There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart
The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit
“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi
When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss
Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller
Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer
What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins
The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore
Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman
The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman
How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner
This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press
Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss
#palestine#israel hamas war#israel hamas conflict#hamas#on war#essay writing#personal essay#rant post#stop terrorism#israel#writing#palestinian lives matter#jewish lives matter#jewish and proud#jewish identity#jewish muslim solidarity#on grief#on religion#antisemitism#anti zionisim#purim 2024#chag purim sameach#judaism#israeli palestinian conflict#am yisrael chai#kvetching#jumblr#the post that turned my blog into an anti-antisemitism blog
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60 Years of the Tokaido Shinkansen!
On 1 October 1964, a railway line like no other opened. Connecting Tôkyô and Ôsaka, paralleling an existing main line, the Tôkaidô New Trunk Line had minimal curves, lots of bridges, zero level crossings. Striking white and blue electric multiple units, with noses shaped like bullets some would say, started zooming between the two cities as at the unheard-of speed of 210 km/h.
This was the start of the Shinkansen, inaugurating the age of high-speed rail.
The trains, with noses actually inspired by the aircraft of the time, originally didn't have a name, they were just "Shinkansen trains", as they couldn't mingle with other types anyway due to the difference in gauge between the Shinkansen (standard gauge, 1435 mm between rails) and the rest of the network (3'6" gauge, or 1067 mm between rails). The class would officially become the "0 Series" when new trains appeared in the 1980s, first the very similar 200 Series for the second new line, the Tôhoku Shinkansen, then the jet-age 100 Series. Yes, the 200 came first, as it was decided that trains heading North-East from Tôkyô would be given even first numbers, and trains heading West would have odd first numbers (0 is even, but never mind).
Hence the next new type to appear on the Tôkaidô Shinkansen was the 300 Series (second from left), designed by the privatised JR Tôkai to overcome some shortcomings of the line. Indeed, the curves on the Tôkaidô were still too pronounced to allow speeds to be increased, while all other new lines had been built ready for 300 km/h operations. But a revolution in train design allowed speeds to be raised from 220 km/h in the 80s to 285 km/h today, with lightweight construction (on the 300), active suspension (introduced on the 700 Series, left) and slight tilting (standard on the current N700 types).
Examples of five generations of train used on the Tôkaidô Shinkansen are preserved at JR Tôkai's museum, the SCMaglev & Railway Park, in Nagoya, with the N700 prototype lead car outdoors. It's striking to see how far high-speed train technology has come in Japan in 60 years. The network itself covers the country almost end-to-end, with a nearly continuous line from Kyûshû to Hokkaidô along the Pacific coast (no through trains at Tôkyô), and four branch lines inland and to the North coast, one of which recently got extended.
東海道新幹線、お誕生日おめでおう!
#Japan#Shinkansen#Tokaido Shinkansen#0 Series#60th Anniversary#100 Series#300 Series#700 Series#JR Tokai#I'm posting this just after midnight Japanese time#oh well#late to the party#新幹線#東海道新幹線#0系#JR東海#Nagoya#SCMaglev & Railway Park#train#2023-07
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Dancing On My Own (Gambit X Reader, Part One)
Alrighty folks, this was meant to be a quick fluffy one shot that keeps getting longer and more angsty and has been sitting in my drafts for entirely too long now. Still very much a WIP that will be continued this week or next, PG13 for the time being with potential to take a turn for spicy down the line :)
A/N: Some quick background, the reader (Y/N in fic, described with she/her pronouns) is based off of an OC I tend to pull out pretty frequently. Half human, half angel, displaced from their home universe and dropped into this one (in which Lucifer, the tv show, is also cannon because why not maybe do a crossover down the line?). Gambit x Reader is the main ship we're sailing towards, but there's definitely some Logan x Reader if you squint. OH and last last thing, there's a party and I'm shamelessly linking the dress I had in mind for the reader here.
gif credit :) : @counterspelling
Dropping below a read more, don't be shy, come say hi when you're done reading! :)
“‘Stay for the summer!’ they said, ‘quiet and relaxing’ they said!” You throw the words you were told back at Jubilee who looks back at you completely unfazed as you continue untangling string lights to hang in the garden.
“Honestly Y/N if you had stopped for two seconds to think about who was telling you that, you probably would’ve gone back to LA.”
She was completely right, of course. You showed up to Xavier’s school not a mutant, not fully human either, and just looking for a place on the east coast to stay. Your uncle Lucifer made a few calls, found a friend willing to host a universe-displaced nephilim, and the rest was history. You might not be a mutant, but you were a partial human with powers you couldn’t always understand, and even other angels in this universe weren’t always able to help. Charles met and understood you quicker than anyone you’ve ever encountered in this universe or the next, so when you were asked to extend your stay and take on some guardian duties over the summer you were happy enough to agree.
“Jean is the one who told you it would be relaxing, and Jean’s idea of relaxing is staying at a constant level 8 of activity.”
“How is that not like the school year?” You rolled your eyes, dropping the lights.
“Well during the school year she bounces between a 9 and 10, reserving 7s and 8s for the weekend. I can make you a diagram or something if you need it.”
“I’m going to need a lot more than that by the time we’re done here.”
“Maybe Gambit can help you with that?” Remy had sauntered over from the basketball court, at least that’s what you assumed given his current state of undress.
“Unless you’re here to help decorate, I don’t think so handsome. If Jean catches us behind schedule the phoenix might make a reappearance…” You looked around and took a deep breath, realizing that other than the lights, everything looked pretty set. There was a reasonable sized clearing in the garden and Jean had hired a company to install a temporary dance floor. Chairs and tables were scattered around picnic style, and Jubilee had done an amazing job of setting up the bar despite being the only one unable to drink, legally.
“I think it’s actually just the lights,” Jubilee nodded to the messy pile at your feet, “And I think Gambit would be more help with that than me anyway, so?”
“Go ahead,” you nodded smiling and she ran over to hug you, “And if you go to the mall, bring me back a pretzel!!!” You yelled after her knowing it was useless, she’d bring you a pretzel whether she heard you or not.
“Avoiding me, chere?” Gambit eyed you with his usual flirtatious undertone that you couldn’t make heads or tails of.
“In fact, I am. Grab that end?” You handed him the lights as he waited for an explanation, “Okay, I’m going to sit in the tree, I just need you to feed me the lights as we move. Ready?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, disappearing and reappearing in the branch just above his head.
Gambit stared back troubled and suspicious, so you nodded and gave him the sarcastic, albeit not entirely untrue, answer he was waiting for, “Oh Remy my attraction to you is just so strong and all consuming that I had to avoid you in order to get anything done at all. Every second I can’t throw myself at you is torture. Et cetera, et cetera, please start passing me the lights so I can go inside and shower.”
He laughed and finally did as you said, “You know if you wanted ol’Gambit all you had to do was ask.”
The two of you worked in a comfortable silence passing the lights through the trees. Just as you finished wrapping the last string, your footing slipped and you let out a quick yelp before bracing yourself for a fall that never came.
“I never would have guessed angels could be so clumsy.”
“If we weren’t you’d be short of a pickup line. Tell me honestly, how many times have you asked a lady if she fell from heaven?” Remy laughed and began walking away with you still in his arms.
“Not as many as you think, chere. Are we about done out here?”
You looked around and nodded, “Finally, yes. It was a good catch by the way, but I think I can walk on my own.”
Placing you back on the ground, the two of you walked towards the mansion in another comfortable silence. Remy was probably tied with Jubilee as your closest friend in the school. You could remember the first day you arrived, how he couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t until later that same night, you were out in the garden and could still sense him watching you, that you decided to do something about it. You walked right up to him, introduced yourself, and asked him to kindly explain why he was staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost.
It turned out the boy who grew up being told he was a demon had a lot of mixed feelings discovering angels and demons were not only real, but one of them was living under his roof. Remy felt a bit silly admitting it to you, but he owed you an honest answer when you confronted him so directly. And when he told you what people had said about him, what he suspected his own parents must have thought of him, your heart broke. You told him stories of all the demons and monsters you’ve encountered, and reassured him that he didn’t come close to fitting the bill.
“What’s on your mind, Remy?” There was quiet and then there was Quiet. You were still pretty new, but you knew well enough when something was bothering him.
“Are you heading back?” You stopped short, and he stopped to face you.
“Back where, Rem?”
“Anywhere that’s not here.” He was facing you but he wouldn’t quite look at you, as if he didn’t actually want to hear the answer.
You took a deep breath, “The honest answer is that I don’t know. I don’t really feel like LA is where I belong, but I’m not a mutant or a gifted youngster either. I mean, I’m not even from this u-”
“Okay, okay.” Gambit interrupted you with a hug, correctly sensing an impending panic attack from you, “Gambit just worried he won’t get to see you s’all.”
You took a deep breath, sighing into the hug, “Well that’s really stupid.” He pulled back to look at you, full of confusion. “It’s really stupid because if I were going anywhere you’d be the first person I tell, and because it takes me about 5 seconds flat to get anywhere. I’d be back before you even knew I was gone.”
You smiled wistfully and he returned it, “I’d know.”
The two of you continued heading in and you finally felt brave enough to ask the question you’ve really been wanting to ask.
“Well, I have to head up and start getting ready for tonight. What about you, getting ready for your date?” Of course, you weren’t sure he actually had one, but that was as direct as you could bring yourself to be.
“Suppose I should be doing the same. Save Gambit a dance?” He kissed your hand and walked away, leaving you flustered and confused. You immediately pulled out your phone.
Y/N: okay so i said ‘gotta go get ready! what about you, getting ready for your date?’ and he said ‘suppose i should do the same’ what do we do with that??
JB: does he think you have a date??
Y/N: SHOULD i have a date???
JB: yeah, one of you should have asked the other out by now
You dropped your phone on your bed, having finally made it to your room after a flurry of texts. Complicated feelings for your maybe best friend aside, it was still important to you to be slightly better than presentable tonight.
Tonight was the first time all summer the adults of the mansion could relax and have a good time, and some non-residential mutants would also be joining the mix. You had never really been to anything so strictly social with the gang, and you didn’t take your invitation lightly.
It wasn’t exactly formal, but Jubilee was able to confirm your suspicion that it wasn’t exactly casual either. You showered, taking more time than usual to exfoliate and moisturize, trying to pamper yourself into relaxing and getting excited for the night ahead, trying to ignore Remy’s words from earlier bouncing around your head.
Two simple words that have had you in a tailspin since he said them so casually. ‘I’d know.’
The trouble maker in you wanted to test him on it, and you did a quick assessment of yourself to see if you could. Fresh out of the shower but mostly dressed, you were presentable. Should you take a quick trip overseas, hop over to France for some wine for tonight and back in a blink? You closed your eyes and heard a knock on your door just as you were about to take off.
You opened your door more suspicious than you’d care to admit, suddenly paranoid that Gambit sniffed you out, but you were met with Jubilee instead, weighed down with garment and shopping bags from the mall.
“You never answered me! I have your pretzel and you promised we’d do makeup together so-“ it was all the preamble she gave before forcing the pretzel on you and making herself at home in your room.
“I was showering! And I really thought you were going to be gone longer?”
“I just had to pick up some stuff I ordered for tonight, plus giving you and Gambit some time to flirt didn’t seem like a bad thing.”
You rolled your eyes, “We have banter, definitely, but I’m not sure I’d call it flirting. He flirts with everyone.”
“So you realize that what he does with you is different?” She turns it on you but you’ve heard it before.
“Yes, different as in he’s not interested!”
Jubilee made a sound of frustration before giving up and asking for help with contour. You dropped the subject and fell back into your usual routine, an easy friendship that reminded you more of sisters than friends. You showed up at the mansion looking for a place to stay while you visited old haunts, and you made a friend in Jubilee who was willing to venture into those places with you, even if it meant confronting ghosts.
“Lucky for you I think I found the perfect way to test his level of interest. You didn’t pick out what you’re wearing yet, did you?”
“Well yeah, I was just going to wear-” You started motioning to the dress you picked for tonight, but Jubilee was moving and cutting you off before you even finished.
“Okay so scrap that, I grabbed something for you at the mall,” she reached for one of the garment bags she had laid across your bed, “and if this doesn’t get a reaction out of him, I’m at a loss. What do you think?”
She unzipped the bag and your eyebrows flew up so fast you wondered if they were still there. It was hot pink, sequined, and most noticeably, short and backless. You reached out to touch it and couldn’t deny how beautiful it was. Sure, the pink was a lot and it showed more skin than you were strictly comfortable with, but you couldn’t deny that the striped details of the sequins were gorgeous, or that the dress would hug and accentuate your curves…dangerously.
“Now tell me what’s really going on because there’s no way you were able to afford this dress.”
Jubilee snorted, ��You got me, it comes with a letter.” She handed you a small envelope you promptly opened and started reading.
‘Your young friend told me you planned to attend a party wearing some frumpy thing off a rack and that’s simply unacceptable for my niece, I have a reputation to uphold, Y/N ;) Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Sincerely, your Fairy DevilFather (p.s. TRY to have fun?)’
“Lucifer intervened to send me a dress?? How did you two even contact each other?”
“I answered your phone once when he called while you were showering. We really hit it off, he actually sent me one too!” She excitedly pulled out another bag and showed you an equally gorgeous, albeit much more modest dress. Part of you wanted to argue, but another part of you realized how exciting this was for your friend and you weren’t about to let her down when she was waiting for you to join her excitement.
“I think we might be best dressed tonight?” You smirked and she whooped, celebrating her victory.
“Oh I’m ready, maybe everyone will finally accept the fact that I’m 20 and stop treating me like I’m still 15.”
You knew it was a sore point for her, but you still smiled. The way all of the x-men treated Jubilee as their adopted child was something that endlessly warmed your heart, even if it frustrated your friend. The two of you took your time helping each other get your hair and makeup perfect before donning your dresses and leaving your bedroom, having already started to hear the arrival of a few guests and the slight murmur of conversation.
You stopped just short of the stairs, turning to face Jubilee, “Don’t they say ‘fashionably late’ is a good thing?” Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you, wearing such a risque dress to attend a party with lots of new faces.
“I think we’ve already reached fashionably late, babe, if we wait any longer they’ll think something is wrong.” You took a deep breath and started to make your way down the stairs. The mansion was empty, signalling that everyone else had already made their way out to the garden.
The sun was just beginning to set when the two of you arrived to find the party already in full swing. Jean and Scott were dancing, Logan and Hank sharing a drink by the bar, and around 20 faces you had never seen interspersed with the rest of the team. You heard a low wolf whistle behind you and felt a hand on your lower back.
“Breaking hearts tonight, chere?” Remy was on you before you could even turn to look at the sound.
“If I’m lucky.” You shrugged.
“Think I have enough of that for the both of us.” He winked and you tried and failed to suppress a snort that only made him grin wider.
You turned to say something to Jubilee and your eyes narrowed when you realized the little traitor had run over to greet her friends, leaving you and Gambit alone. She looked your way and winked as you openly glared at her.
“Well it looks like I’ve been ditched so I’ll need to borrow some of it.” You grimaced in the direction of the crowd, not needing to elaborate.
“All yours, chere.” He offered you his arm and you accepted, making your way into the party and jumping right into a flurry of introductions, hugs and handshakes that Remy led you through, guiding you away when it was time to move on.
It seemed innocent enough but you couldn’t stop focusing on the fact that Remy’s hands never left you. Whether it was an arm wrapped protectively around your waist or his hand on your exposed lower back, lazily tracing shapes you couldn’t make out, it was becoming increasingly distracting. He introduced you to Kurt and you only caught 30% of the conversation, too distracted by Remy’s hand tracing the curve of the dip at the back of your dress. You were relieved when Remy excused the two of you to go grab a drink.
“Admit it, not as bad as you thought.” Gambit smirked at you, leading you to a table where Logan and Jubilee were catching up.
You rolled your eyes, “I never thought it would be bad, I just,” You took a deep breath, “I don’t know, I guess I was worried I wouldn’t fit in here, or that everyone would be wondering why I’m even here but too polite to say anything.”
Logan and Jubilee both looked in your direction, hearing the tail end of your conversation that you didn’t bother hiding from them. Logan very openly looked you up and down before chuckling and taking a sip of what you suspected to be whiskey.
“No one’s kicking you out of here looking like that, that’s for sure.” It was maybe the first time the wolverine had ever given you a compliment and you blushed.
“You clean up rather nicely yourself, Logan.”
“Then why are you spending all night with the cajun instead of talking to me?” You were surprised but did your best to cover it up, meanwhile Jubilee was fighting off a laugh herself by taking a sip of her drink.
“Because the cajun knows how a lady should be treated.” Gambit grumbled, leveling Logan with a look before departing briefly to get the both of you drinks.
“Does he?” Logan asked you while you sat to join them, shooting him a quizzical look before he continued, “Know how to treat a lady?”
“How much have you had, Logan?” You asked, eyeing his drink.
“Not that much, darlin’. Answer the question.” If there was one thing you loved about Logan it was his lack of bullshit, and judging by the look on Jubilee’s face as she waited for your answer, right now it was probably her favorite thing about him too,
“He’s been a perfect gentleman, but we’re just friends.” You tried to say it in a way that wouldn’t reveal how much that bothered you, but both of them knew better. Gambit returned a second later with your drinks and you only got two sips in before Logan insisted on a round of shots.
One round turned into two, turned into three, turned into…you lost count. Jubilee was swaying happily in her seat, having convinced the two men to let her join in with half shots somewhere around round three. Everyone’s judgement was impaired by that point, but she made a great argument about drinking for the first at home where she’s safe or something else you couldn’t remember anymore in your happily inebriated state.
A song came on and you gasped, turning towards the dancefloor and excitedly announcing your love for the song. What it was called? You couldn’t remember if your life depended on it, but you needed to dance. You locked eyes with Remy who smiled but shifted his eyes away awkwardly, causing you to quickly deflate.
“Have you even had a dance yet tonight, Y/N?” Logan asked you suspiciously.
“Not yet.” You pouted, considering heading out on your own, dance partner be damned.
“Knows how to treat a lady my ass.” Logan grumbled in Gambit’s direction, shooting a glare at him before getting up and begrudgingly but kindly offering you his hand.
“Oh. my. GOD.” Jubilee squealed, far too gone to contain her excitement at the drama, as she would say.
You beamed at Logan, accepting his hand and making a run for the dance floor, pulling him along behind you.
“That crazy cajun might try to take my head off later for this.” Logan grumbled, settling his arms at your waist while you threw yours around his neck, getting closer than was strictly necessary so the two of you could continue your talk while dancing. Your eyes shifted over to where you just left your friends and you felt a stabbing pain in your chest when you looked for Remy just to see he had also made his way over to the dance floor, with Rogue.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Logan.” Your eyes were starting to tear up and you looked up trying to stop it as Logan became worried, turning to figure out what made you so upset. His eyes landed on Gambit and he growled, holding you a little closer as he actively tried to calm down.
“I’ll kill him.”
“You won’t.” You laughed, “He’s allowed to be with whoever he wants.”
“Yeah, but he’s not allowed to follow you around all night like a lovesick puppy just to ditch you when he catches another scent.”
You smiled sadly, “He was being a good friend earlier, that’s it.”
Logan pulled you closer and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I watched his hands stray all over you, Y/N,” He touched your bare back to emphasize his point, “He’s not a friend, he’s a coward.” You couldn’t take it anymore and hugged Logan, hiding your face in his chest to let a few tears escape, hoping you would feel a bit better if you could get some of your distress out.
“Might have to kill em for making you cry.” Logan grumbled and you laughed, smiling up at him despite yourself.
“Believe it or not you’re helping enough like this.” The two of you continued dancing and Logan’s discomfort wasn’t wasted on you, but he’d be damned if he let the two of you leave that dance floor before Gambit and Rogue. He was making a point.
The music began to slow down and Rogue and Gambit finally went their separate ways. You watched as Remy found Jubilee again and made their way back over to the table, you turned to Logan.
“Think we should head back?” He looked behind you and shook his head.
“We finally get a song that’s more my speed and you want to leave?” He shook his head no and pulled you closer, making you laugh and rest your head on his chest as the two of you swayed lazily.
“Thank you, Logan. It’s not how I expected the night to go but I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.”
“Dancing with you looking like that isn’t exactly a punishment.” He snarked and you chuckled.
“Mind if I cut in?” You looked up to meet red eyes, Remy looking between you and Logan harshly before addressing you again more quietly, “Didn’t Gambit ask you to save him a dance?”
You hesitated and Logan took that as his cue, “Bad timing cajun, Y/N just said she was getting dizzy, we’re heading back to the table.” Logan put his arm around you and lead you out of there, leaving Gambit to grumble and trail the two of you back.
Jean had joined Jubilee to rest and eyed the three of you quizzically as you made your return.
“Y/N!! I found out that shots of vodka with cranberry juice is amazing, look!” She held out a shot for you and you grabbed it and threw it back before Logan and Remy could even finish their protests.
“Chere! Didn’t you say you were dizzy?” Gambit took the shot glass out of your hand, leading you to a chair.
“From the dancing, Rem! I definitely haven’t had enough to drink yet.”
Jubilee whooped and passed you another shot, clinking it to her own before you both threw them back. Jean looked at you even more confused and you tapped your temple with a wink, an agreed upon gesture inviting her to read your mind.
“Rough night but I promise everything is okay, just need to drown my sorrows a little with you guys. Logan’s been doing his best.”
You heard Jean’s response in your head, “Fair enough. I’ve been cutting Jubilee’s shots with a lot of cranberry juice. Seriously, a LOT.”
You struggled to mask your laugh, “As I was saying, definitely not enough to drink, I’m gonna go-“ You stood and made your way to the bar on your own before anyone else could say anything, but you could feel a few sets of eyes watching you leave.
Someone had been manning the bar, but as the night wore on and the guests dwindled, those of you remaining were left to fend for yourself. You assessed your options and reached for the gin, giving that a generous pour before adding sprite, a splash of cranberry juice, and a lime wedge before you can talk yourself out of it.
“That looks amazing, can you make me one too?” Jubilee had appeared at your side and you smiled before making her a much more restrained version of yours. “Now I need you to tell me eeeeevery detail of you and Wolvie dancing I mean I neeeever-“
“To be clear,” you interrupted, sipping at your drink, “It was a pity save when it became painfully obvious Remy wasn’t going to ask.”
“After spending literally all night following you around and basically growling at anyone that tried to get near you, what’s up with that??” She made a good point but you weren’t sure what she meant by that first part.
“Pause, rewind, what are you talking about ‘basically growling’?”
“You seriously didn’t realize how handsy he got with you when Kurt started getting friendly?”
You realized you were drunk when you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, “I was so distracted by him being handsy I didn’t even hear whatever Kurt was saying to make the connection.”
Jubilee nearly spat her drink in your face and she started smacking you excitedly, “Can you please please go tell him that??”
“But then he didn’t ask me to dance!! He pointedly looked away!!”
“So Logan? What happened there?” You were starting to suspect your friend wasn’t nearly as inebriated as you thought, her tone sounding surprisingly sharp shifting gears.
“I really don’t think there’s anything more than his mother-hen instincts going on there.”
Her eyes rolled and she shrugged, “I’d agree if it was just one dance, but-“
“Again, pretty sure that was to save me from being zeroed in on Gambit’s dance with Rogue..”
She didn’t have a response for that one and she simply clinked your drink before you both took generous sips, “Don’t tell Jean.” You whispered as you topped both of your glasses off before heading back to the group.
Jean had left to track down Scott who was mingling in the small groups that remained, some still dancing but most everyone else was doing the same as your small group. Jubilee bounced into the seat next to Logan and you drifted a beat too long before sitting next to Gambit. The silence that stretched between the two of you was no longer as comfortable as it was earlier, so you broke and piped up first.
“I almost tested you earlier, you know.”
“Almost?” Remy squinted at you, “Been testing me all night, chere.”
You narrowed your eyes back but decided not to engage, continuing your thought instead, “When you said you’d know if I left?” His playful glare dropped and he waited on your next words, “Just a quick trip before the party but still, decided against it.”
Remy chewed on what you were saying and not saying, wondering how the night had gotten so far away from him. Everything started out better than he expected, getting to show you around the party, not letting you too far out of sight in that dress, and then the hesitation. His own doubt sneaking in, reminding him that Y/N is quite literally an angel, he knew her place in the world, but his? He looked over at you waiting for a response and decided that didn’t matter right now.
“Still have sea legs or are you about ready for that dance, chere?” He didn’t leave you much room to answer, already standing with his arm extended.
“You know I literally just sat back down, right?” He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet alongside him. Your night was clearly nowhere near over and you gave in, letting Remy lead you back onto the dance floor and into his arms.
#gambit x reader#remy lebeau x reader#xmen#x men the animated series#x men 97#remy lebeau#gambit#gambit xmen#light angst#in which reader and gambit are both complete idiots#but we love them anyway#tw drinking
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Reunion | dob
Word Count: 4.6k Rating: M Summary: Doesn't matter how long you've waited for it; it's always worth it. | Also on Ao3! Warnings: (the usual, minors dni etc) praise, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex (+creampie), marking??, pretty boy is always in charge <3, overstimulation, brief somnophilia + masturbation mentions, they're so in love, no use of y/n as always A/N: this is my belated x(xx)mas gift to u. mwah ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅
You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself, not really.
It was always like this. Maybe it would’ve worked if your back was flat against your mattress, in solitude at eleven at night. You always fell asleep, so content, within minutes. But succumbing to your desires, utilizing your free will to make yourself tremble and squirm during the daylight hours of three in the afternoon while he’s out there, so sexy and so unaware… it was over as soon as you turned the faucet to hot.
There was nothing like cumming in the shower; maybe it was the adrenaline of holding yourself upright at the risk of shattering the glass door or maybe it was the rough pulse setting of your showerhead. Who knows.
There couldn’t have been a better–more scorching–late spring afternoon after days of uncharacteristic gloom. Your late-morning was spent lounging by the pool, grazing on cubed pineapple and hiding greedy looks at Dylan’s body behind your sunglasses. It’d been nearly a week since you’d last had him; he was fresh off a red-eye from his sibling’s birthday celebrations on the east coast. The early flight, coupled with Tommy’s insistence on taking him to a show at a bar in the East Village last night, meant he was schlubbing around all day, falling in and out of a day-long nap. You could admit it was cute when he dozed off on the lounge chair, cap brim low on his face and chin on his chest, but it reached a breaking point when you were sprawled on the couch together, his large hand cupping your breast and a soft snore in your ear. His grip was loose, allowing you to slide easily from his arms, slink to your room, and grab your bathrobe.
Your skin felt warm when you stepped onto the cool tile, still deciding between waiting it out and dealing with the thud in your cunt. You stood beneath the stream, feeling the hot water funnel into the main line as the shower temperature quickly rose from frigid to steaming. You were focused at first, fingers diligently massaging shampoo into your scalp, but they roamed a little further while you scrubbed your torso. With a sigh, you reached for the chrome showerhead and twisted to change the water pressure. It’s quick, you thought. He’d likely still be asleep by the time you left the bathroom, so gorgeous but so unavailable.
And it was quick, but it also left your knees rattling and head spinning from the thick, waterlogged air. Tiny shockwaves are still traveling up your body when you step out onto the plush bath mat, intensifying as the cold bathroom air rushes past your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. A tiny whine escapes your lips as you shimmy into your fleece bathrobe and wrap a towel around your head. Looking at yourself in the mirror is a struggle of its own, a visible warmth spread across your face and a well-bitten bottom lip alerting you to the levels of your own arousal. You grunt when you step away, attempting to designate your urges to after dinner, and instead thinking about if you need to take anything out of the freezer to defrost.
“Hi,” Dylan’s soft greeting is a surprise when you step out of the bathroom into your shared bedroom. He’s lying on his side, head resting on his elongated arm and phone screen-down on the bed. His eyes look tired, but his silhouette glows in the light from the window. Dark green sweatpants hang low on his hips, exposing the elastic of his underwear.
“Hi.” You hang your hair towel up behind the bathroom door and begin to walk towards him. “Looking for me?”
“Mmhm.” You twirl a lock of his chestnut hair around your pointer finger, enjoying the length before he inevitably buzzes it all off. “S’boring out there, every episode of Curb is the same.”
“Yeah?” He shifts, sitting up to swing his legs over the side of the bed and face you. “You know what happened during the episodes you were asleep for?” Your hand is in his and he pulls it to rest on his cheek.
“Yeah.” He smiles up at you. “Larry David acts like an asshole, gets what he deserves, goofy end credits song, repeat.” You refrain from rolling your eyes as you settle into his lap, your knees on either side of his body.
“Hm. You’re right,” you mumble between pressing kisses into the scratchy skin of his cheek. One of his hands settles comfortably on your lower back. “That’s it? You came to find me because you were bored?”
“I missed you.” Dylan’s free hand travels up your thigh until he is forearm-deep beneath your robe. “Woke up an’ you were gone.” The water droplets on your skin provide no retaliation to his hot breath on your neck. Something about it makes you want to curve your spine to press your chest to his. Would he feel the rattle behind your breastbone? Could he feel the heat from between your legs, so deftly pressed against the lump in the front of his sweatpants? “Had a dream about you.”
You’re certain now you’re both on the same page, but you pull back and narrow your eyes at him anyway. “Just now?” He narrows his eyes right back at you, a playful smile teasing the corners of his lips. His eyes are a decadent shade of brown as they gaze sleepily into yours.
“Maybe it’s been recurrent.” He shrugs as if he has no clue what you’re talking about, but you catch a glint of mischief in his look. His hands are moving now, one groping your outer thigh and the other fiddling with the fabric rope keeping your bathrobe tied shut.
You almost fall into him at that moment. The flood between your legs only feels more and more apparent since you’d hooked the shower head to its mount and twisted the faucet tightly to the left. Instead of finding comfort against his mouth or alerting him to the wet spot you’re leaving in his lap, you blurt out, “You wanna tell me about it?”
“Would rather show you.” His lips lock onto yours, arms pressing your body into his, molding yourself around him. He’s diligent and in control, mouth firm and domineering against yours. His tongue is soft and wetter than yours, with access to it allowing you to taste a hint of sweetness and tobacco. His hands roam dutifully across the hems of your garment, pushing the fabric off your shoulder and loosening the belt around your waist. Dylan’s back falls to the bed, tugging you down with him. Your robe is splayed open now, caught on your shoulders and thighs. His mouth disconnects from yours to watch you, properly feel you softly grinding yourself against him. It’s almost enough to make you self conscious, but his gaze is always so soft when you’re at your most vulnerable. He doesn’t haphazardly grasp at your body as you lean over him; his hands are deliberately placed on your upper thighs, ghosting feather-light circles into your skin. The sensation makes you slightly ticklish, immediately sending electricity up your spine and goosebumps rippling across your skin. How he knew that would get your nipples pointed and directly in front of his face, you’d never know. You’re not being watched by Dylan, you’re being seen. “You like using me, huh angel?” It’s posed as a question, but you don’t need to answer. You just press your hands to his stomach, your center to the firm bulge in his pants. “Mine,” he says quietly to himself, greedily holding you by your hips and guiding your movements. It’s not enough, but you can feel a pool slowly form in your lower stomach as he works your cunt against his increasingly hard cock. His hips press harder into yours as he moves, fucking into you. You surrender control over your core to him entirely, letting him scrape his clothed cock into your swollen center, twitching when he’d move just right. Your nails leave crescent shaped marks as you hold tightly to his sides. You’re trembling, soft sighs escaping your lips with each swipe of his hips. “Is this really how you wanna cum, sweetheart? Like you’re a teenager again, can’t control yourself?” The condescension dripping from his tongue is almost enough to send you over the edge right then and there. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” You whimper pitifully as he halts your movements and pushes you onto your back.
“Thought you’d take it as a compliment if I came on your pants.” Your breathing is shallow, eyes watching the way he leans over you, caging you onto the bed with his body.
“Mm.” Dylan’s thinking about it, even if he’s pretending to be preoccupied with touching you. The shift in his eye contact and slight bob in his throat is what gives him away. “Yeah… I have some other ideas, though.” He absentmindedly traces up your stomach, under your breasts, to your collarbone. “My dream, remember?” His tired eyes shine as they look down at you. He is deliberate in his touches, your skin sensitive and lower abdomen incredibly keyed-up.
“I’ve been so good,” you pant, letting your hands roam across the firmness of his chest to his shoulders, then his triceps. “Missed you.”
“I believe it,” he says off-handedly, too busy determining whether to attack your collarbone with his tongue or his teeth. “Thank you for picking me up from the airport this morning.” The sentence comes out muffled; he chose teeth.
“You’re so welcome,” you sigh. “But that’s not what I meant.” You hook your right knee around his thigh and he holds it in place. “You’ve been so busy snoozin’... I’m feeling a little neglected.” He licks his lips as he stares down at you. You’re looking up at him from beneath your lashes, seemingly too bashful for what stumbles from your mouth next. “Maybe it’s unfair, but I was hoping you’d fuck me when we got home this morning.” His eyes, calculating and a remarkably burnt umber color, remain steady as they bore into yours. He’s always so much better at this than you are. “Maybe in front of the mirror by the entryway.” You swallow. Your voice is small, mind distant with nothing but his body keeping you grounded in reality. “Or against the front door.” You guide his hand down your stomach, over your stubbly pubic mound to the dampness that has been accumulating for what feels like hours. It probably has been hours. His eyebrows shoot up. It was only seven in the morning when you’d gotten back, the golden warmth of sunrise peeking through the ornate crystal gaps in your wooden front door. Dylan looked beautiful in the light, especially with a duffel over his shoulder and raccoon circles around his eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart.” You feel yourself falling into your favorite dynamic as your senses become overloaded with him. Dylan is bigger than you’d think from afar, experiencing no issue trapping you between his arms and beneath his body; his gentle breathing, smelling faintly of spearmint and American Spirits, fans over your skin. He’s looking at you like you’re dinner, but something in his eyes tells you he’s going to savor it. “You’ve been so patient, haven’t you?” The hand you placed over your cunt is lazily spreading your pleasure between your folds, brushing past your clit and occasionally circling your trembling hole at excruciating intervals. His other hand travels everywhere, brushing wet hair from your face to ghosting around your neck and gently caressing your breasts. “All day, bet you were soaked for me the whole time, my good girl.” Your eyes roll back and you feel your chest cave in with your breath. “You could’ve said something, y’know.” It comes out almost like a purr and electricity zips up your spine.
“If you hadn’t passed out every fifteen minutes,” you bite. He pinches your nipple sharply between his pointer finger and thumb in response to your attitude, resulting in a yelp escaping your throat. Luckily, it’s the only punishment you get.
“Baby, you know what you want is always alright with me.” You swallow as you watch him intently, your eyes flickering between his eyes and lips, unsure of his next move. “You know how incredible it would’ve been,” he pauses his movements between your legs and shifts his arms to the sides of your head before continuing, “seeing you needing me, in my sleep, taking me like I know you can… to wake up to you messy, doe-eyed, and gagging all over me?” Your face is hot, you’re sweating, and you’re squirming under his firm gaze. “You’d like that too, huh? Be honest, my love. You trust me, don’t you?” His voice is satiny to your ears. Your vision is blurred by pure adrenaline and adoration. The dryness in your mouth prevents speech, but you nod weakly, ready to succumb to whatever he wants to do. “Say it.” His fingers press into your cheeks and puff your lips forward. “You’ll get anything you want as long as you keep talking, keep telling me how much you want it.” His hand rests gently on your mound, feeling like a promise.
“Yes.” It’s hoarse, but it’s there. “Yes, please.”
“I want to hear you, okay? I know you love it, angel, but I need to hear how good I can make my pretty girl feel.” His voice falls to a whisper. “You don’t know how hard it is to be away from you.” Dylan is always like this after returning from a trip, thoughts jumbled from lustfully depraved and tenderly sweet, fighting urges that exist somewhere in between. “No one is like you…” He loses himself in the kisses he’s pressing to your shoulder, your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “No one can make me feel the way you do.” His hands move sporadically across your torso, grasping at your skin haphazardly. “Not in this lifetime, anyway.”
You whine at his touch and words, head spinning but wholly devoted to him. “I love you.” It comes out quietly, a pledge kept solely between you two. A layer of static feels like it is embedded into the top layer of your skin. His fingers are gentle and precise; his pointer and middle finger nestle themselves comfortably around your clit, squeezing occasionally as he moves his fingers vertically. There’s no chance you’ll last under these conditions and there’s no way he doesn’t know it. You’re not in control of your movements against his fingers; you’d be embarrassed by the arhythmic pace of your hips, but you’re too honed in to his touch to care. You’re not even sure what you’re doing, but you know his eyes are illuminated by the light from the window and the look he’s giving you is all-consuming. You also know it feels good. “Dylan,” you whisper. You move your hands from his neck to his shoulder and bicep; he may like being scratched and squeezed, but it doesn't mean he wants a punctured jugular. “I don’t think–” A soft gasp bubbles up your throat. The sheer consistent repetitive movement of his fingers are increasingly enough.
“It’s okay… it’s okay.” Dylan’s mouth covers yours, almost overwhelmingly. His breath is hot as it mingles with yours, your tongue desperately needy in his mouth. The knee hooked around his thigh shifts to rest on his lower back. Your hand slides from his bicep, down the front of his chest rather clumsily until it reaches the elastic of his sweatpants. A frustrated rumble emanates from your chest. You’re surprised he’s had the self control to keep them on this long, especially given the tent he was pitching. Your hand breaches the drawstring, fingers dipping past the elastic of his underwear. “You wan’ me to feel you, sweetheart?” He nips at your bottom lip, already so raw you taste a metallic warmth slowly dripping into your mouth as soon as his teeth make contact. Something about the action and the sharp, but sweet flavor on your tongue feels carnal, your mind sinking to its most feral form. Your fingers dip entirely into his tight boxers, thumb spreading the stickiness from his slit to the bottom of his head. His hips jerk slightly to your touch and your second hand slinks to palm the hot girth in his pants. “Always so considerate, my girl’s always thinking of me.” You nod, out of breath and drunk on the feeling of his middle finger being smoothly inserted into your slick. When he’s successfully knuckle deep, he pulls out and reinserts, adding his pointer finger. You can’t control the sounds that leak from your mouth when he licks at the droplets of blood that have re-emerged from the cracks in your lips. “It’s okay, baby, don’t worry. Let go for me.” He taps his thumb on your bud and you grip tightly to his fingers. You feel ragged, tired from both incessantly thinking about being your boyfriend’s little fuck doll and actually following through on your shared desire. The pool in your lower stomach has only been expanding, tendrils of pleasure seeping up your back, through your limbs. There’s no way to hold on, not with his voice in your ear and his fingers in your cunt. “Promise next time it’ll be around my cock, but I need you to come now.” With a final flick at your clit, at his instruction, the dam breaks. Your hips flick forward, back arching to press your stomach firmly into him. The trembling in your thighs feels like it rocks through your whole body. His fingers fuck you through it, the squelching noises almost embarrassingly sinful. You’re leaking as Dylan pulls his fingers out from your center, coated in your own creaminess. He presses them into your mouth, watching intently as you circle them with your tongue. He seems satisfied by your method, pulling the fingers out and replacing them with a quick peck. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, brushing against his with each breath. “My girl,” he breathes. “My girl, my good girl.” His thumb gently caresses the upper part of your cheek.. “I love you. You’re gonna give it to me again, sweetheart.”
“Off,” you mumble as your hands shakily tug at his underwear. He assists, shooing your hands away to swiftly remove himself of his garments. You use the shift in his weight and attention to your advantage, pushing Dylan onto his back. He’s gorgeous–looking angelically warm in the afternoon light and body hair deliciously untrimmed. You swallow the saliva that floods your mouth as your vision hones in on the twitching, sticky cock resting on his stomach. It’s pure instinct, the way you lean over his lower half, tongue readily lubricating his tip. You pump your spit down his shaft until you’re able to get the first four inches into your mouth.
“I don’t think this was part of my dream, pretty girl.” His verbal attempt at protest is weak while his hand is firmly in your still-damp hair, steadying your head to take him further. In response, you reshift your tongue’s focus to his head, while your saliva-coated hands tug at the base of his cock and balls.
“It’s not a dream of yours to get head from me?” You look up at him for only a few seconds, caught in his lidded yet bemused gaze, before redirecting your attention back to your favorite plaything.
“Definitely not what I meant. You’re…” He trails off and pulls your head up by your hair. His hand moves to cup your jaw, his thumb wiping spit off your chin. “Come here. Would rather finish inside of you.” There’s nothing he can say that you won’t agree to. Especially not the most fulfilling way of feeling his. You clamber up his torso and he sits up to meet you in the middle. You unceremoniously fist his dick, swiping his head through your folds and beginning to press it into your core. From your perspective, playtime is over; no need to drag it out further when it’s already been a week without each other. “Eht–! Tsk.” His hand is on your throat, lifting you slightly as he pulls his head out from your quivering hole. It falls onto his stomach with a wet, heavy thud. “Let me.” Your jaw is slack, breath whizzing past your lips as your pussy clenches at the loss of his stretch. He lets go of your neck, moving his hand down to the hollow of your collarbone. Gently, he pushes your shoulder, body falling backwards onto the bed. He towers over you, perfectly silhouetted in front of the window. He pauses after placing his hands on your inner thighs and spreading you, one knee perpendicular to your crotch and the other pulled up by your shoulder. His fingers glide across the smooth skin of your inner thighs without purpose.
You jokingly rasp, “Won’t let me be in charge, but you haven’t decided what you’re gonna do to me?” He shifts his gaze from your little box, gaping and thumping for him, and narrows his eyes at you.
“Debating if I’m gonna break my promise or not.” Your heart nearly stops.
“What do you mean?” The fingers on your left hand tangle with his as you stare, wide eyed at his pretty, stubbly face. There’s no possibility he wouldn’t finish the job, not by now. He crouches further down the bed, head nearly resting on your lower stomach.
“You think you can handle three today for me, sweetheart?” Oh. His face is so close, you can feel his cool breathing against your warm dampness. You swallow the saliva that has built up in your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’ll get to it eventually, I swear.” His fingers spread you open and he leaves a soft kiss on your clit. “Jus’ missed you. Please?”
“Yes,” you breathe. He wastes no time pressing his flat tongue along the entirety of your slick. “Whatever you want.”
He groans in protest, the vibrations making you gasp. “Whatever you want.” Your hands find his hair, a little oily and just long enough that he looks ruggedly sexy when his beard is grown out. He’s going for the gold, suckling and circling your clit directly with his tongue, well aware that you’re sensitive enough to flood his mouth in under a minute if he plays his cards right. It’s an ego thing for him, knowing exactly how to take care of you. He’s certain no one could make you fall apart the way he can and today he would prove it to himself again. Prove it to you. “You’ve been so lonely without me, huh?” His tongue flicks slow down, but the pressure against your slit increases. “How many nights did you go to bed thinking the time difference fucked you over? Did you think of me when you couldn’t get me on the phone?”
“Dylan.” A wringing motion comes from deep inside of your gut, alerting you to your incoming orgasm.
“Answer me.” His stern voice cuts through the air and reverberates against your cunt. “I know your fingers aren’t enough. Were you left unsatisfied without me here to make you feel good?”
“Yes,” you pant. “I need you. All I can do is think about you when you’re gone. Please keep going, I need you.” He places his thumb right above your clit and pulls to stretch it upwards. With one final thick swipe of his tongue, he has your eyes rolling and fingers pulling his hair. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, pressing his face further into your flooding core as your hand holds him exactly where it feels best. He’s literally moaning into you as he laps you up, occasionally praising your receptiveness and taste. When you let go of his hair and begin to jerk your hips away from his face, he pulls away.
“Good?” He sits up and wipes his mouth on his forearm. You nod weakly, hands wobbly as you attempt to touch his knees. You’re pounding and leaking still, limbs incredibly heavy. With no hesitation, he presses his cock into your weary little hole, messy and slick from your cum and his spit. All of the air rushes from your lungs when he bottoms out.
“S-so sensitive, Dyl,” you whine.
“One more for me. You want it, don’t you?” You tighten around him as he pulls out and slowly presses back in. “Breathe. I’ll take you through it.” He reaches a comfortable pace, fast enough to override the overstimulated numbness but not painful in its force. Each deep thrust scrapes his pubic bone against your button, making you feel like you’re glitching in and out of existence.The pillow to your left disappears and, while still inside of you, Dylan lifts your hips to place it beneath you. You’re wide open for him now, hips tilted up as he changes his angle and begins to slap himself into you. “So good for me, taking me so well. You’re tired aren’t you, baby? Waitin’ on me all day…” Your noises only get louder as he pokes the fleshy roof of your cunt. “We’re almost done,” he coos. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you hiccup. You’re holding onto his forearms, still trembling. “Please, faster. I need it but it feels, I feel so–”
“Okay, honey. Just trust me, alright?” Dylan’s lips purse and a glob of saliva falls from his lips to where your bodies meet. He uses a finger to spread it around, then holds your hips by the curvature of your lower back. He grinds you against him with each full-length thrust, his spit messily coating your point of contact. He doesn’t even pull out anymore, just pushing himself as deeply as possible inside of you. Your ankles link together behind his back, pressing him so deep you can feel a tingly pressure next to your cervix. It almost hurts, the feeling shooting between your pussy and your brain. He spits again, harder this time, directly onto your clit. The pace of his hips combined with a quick pinch of his fingers sends you over the edge without warning. Your final orgasm rips a small cry from deep in your chest, whole body vibrating as you clench around the hot girth inside of you. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, your body feeling tight and loose at the same time, alive and dead. In purgatory, maybe. “Fuck.” He grunts and presses himself as deeply as he can, spurting hot stickiness as your orgasm milks him. “‘It’s like you were made for me, swear to God.” Your body relaxes as he claims you, filling you to satisfaction. He pumps into you a few times, coating your inner and outer cunt with his essence. His body covers yours completely, kissing you as he continues to lazily thrust. Your hands roam his back, arms, and hair as he continues to purposelessly move inside of you. It’s hard to take a deep breath; you’re still trying to address the trembling in your limbs and stretch in your core.
“Missed you.” It’s all you can muster. Your brain and body are composed of nothing but mush and Dylan.
“Missed you.” He’s smiling, eyes shining happily as they look at your weary face.
“Can we cuddle?” He nods and almost laughs, pressing a final kiss to your cheek. The air feels cold against you when he sits up and pulls out.
“Stay right there, gonna get a towel.” He squeezes your hand as he stands from the bed. You watch him saunter towards the bathroom and your eyes snap all the way open when he grabs the towel you’d been using for your hair.
“Dylan–!”
ermmm anyway so. ty for reading <3 as always, i'll love u forever if u like, rb, and/or lmk what u think :) (this is a sideblog so i cant respond to replies but i see them and ily)
#someone tell me how i feel ab this\#it's good i think but too fresh. might edit it some more in the coming days as i nitpick#dylan o'brien smut#stiles stilinksi x reader#stiles stilinksi imagine#stiles stilinksi smut#dylan o'brien imagine#dylan o'brien x reader
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I’ve been reading some craft books and online posts about the world building because my story is an urban fantasy set in present day US, in a fictional town, and theres not a secondary world where the fantasy happens, it’s all in the real world, except the magic is a secret that only certain people know about, but all of the resources I find about world building only talk about fantastical worlds that exist by themselves and not the kind of more subtle world building that I’d have to do. Do you have any tips?
Guide: Creating a Fictional Town in the Real World
Step 1 - Choose Your Location - There are two ways to go about choosing a location for your fictional town. One is to go the "Springfield U.S.A." route, ala The Simpsons, and be vague about the specific location (borough, parish, district, county, region, state, or province) and instead give a broader geographic region... "the East Coast," "the Pacific Northwest," "Central Canada," Northern Scotland," etc. The other option is to go ahead and put your fictional town in a specific location. Just figure out where (for example, somewhere outside of Des Moines, Iowa) and go to Google Maps, click on satellite view, then start zooming in on big empty areas. Choose a place big enough to fit a town. Yes, in reality it's probably farm fields, pasture, or someone's property, but that doesn't matter. You don't have to actually show it on a map. It's just a plausible spot to build your town. Now you can measure how far it is to other places, you know what highways to take to get to it. You can even do street view to get the lay of the land, see what the landscape looks like and try to envision the buildings there. You can also use what's there to create parks, popular recreational areas, and anything else your town needs.
Step 2 - Choose Your Inspiration - Even when you're creating a fictional town, it's still a good idea to use a real town (or two, or three) from that general area as inspiration for your town. For a fictional town in Des Moines, I would zoom in on the map to find a nearby town of similar size... like Elkhart, then I can take a look around to see what it's like. Just looking at the map, I can see they have a couple of churches, a couple baseball fields, a very small main street/downtown area with a couple shops and restaurants, a post office, a few different neighborhoods, and a cemetery. This would be a great model for a small fictional town outside of Des Moines. And, as I said, you could look at a couple other sand combine them. Once you have your inspiration town/s, you can walk around on Google Maps street view, go to the town's web site, watch a tour on YouTube (if one exists), or look up pictures in Google Image search.
Step 3 - Start Planning - This is the really fun part! First, you might want to draw a basic map of your fictional town using your inspiration town/s as a guide. This doesn't have to be a pretty map... just a basic line drawing to help you envision where everything is. Think about some of the basic things this town might have, like the ones I listed in step two, and any other things you might want your town to have, like maybe a library, a hospital, a city hall, school, and maybe a movie theater. It might even be helpful and fun to put together a collage of pictures to represent your town so you've got something in mind as you write about it. You can even choose representatives for specific locations in your story, like your MC's house, school, and their favorite hangout.
Step 4 - Naming Your Town - Start by looking at the kinds of town names that surround your town. Look for common naming conventions... suffixes like -ton, -ville, -dale, -burg, -wood, -field, etc. Words in a particular language, like a lot of French-inspired town names, or towns with geographical terms (lake, hill, valley, river, canyon, gap, etc.) My guide to Naming Locations has additional tips.
Step 5 - Populate Your Town and Give it a History - Last but not least, make up a little history for your town, again, using surrounding towns as inspiration. Who founded it? When was it founded? What's the town's main industry? What are the people like in this town? What jobs do they have? What do they do for fun?
Here are some other posts that might help:
Five Things to Help You Describe Fictional Locations Setting Your Story in an Unfamiliar Place WQA’s Guide to Internet Research Happy writing!
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Fate Yields For No One
Chapter one
Sorry to make y’all wait so long! I hope this chapter is worth it:) (don’t worry y’all, the boys will make an appearance very soon😏) let me know if you want me to add you to this Taglist or to my main Taglist in the comments!
Reblog to support my writing💕
Poly Lost boys x Max’s daughter reader
Prologue
New York, 1986
“what if I told you that I could do more than heal you? What if I could restore your life and then some? Would you want that?”
“I’m not ready to die, I’m so scared. Please don’t let me die, not like this.”
“I am truly sorry that there isn’t enough time to do this the gentle way, I hope you can forgive me.”
Sharp fangs sinking into your neck always jostled you from your reoccurring nightmare. You sighed as you surveyed the sweat covered sheets surrounding you, running a hand through your hair as you fought to banish your fear.
After that awful night in the alley where Max has found you, you’d ran as far as you could, trading the west coast for the east. But no matter how fast you ran, you couldn’t escape your own mind.
Your life as a human was long gone, but the memories populated your nightmares. They reminded you that no matter how different you were now, how strong, you would always be that pitiful girl who’d almost died, alone and unloved.
Whatever you were now could never erase the fact that you used to be nothing to this world.
You slunk out of bed and sauntered to your balcony, taking in the breathtaking sight of New York City when night fell.
Your hands gripped the railing as your eyes scanned the bright lights, the racing cars, and the bustling crowds. You breathed in deeply, taking in your last view from the balcony before you had to flee your apartment and search for a new one, attached to a new sucker for you to use.
As much as you loathed it, your vampirism allowed you to take revenge on the cruel and wealthy in ways you’d never been able to before.
While other vampires went straight in for the kill, you preferred to play with your food. You didn’t just want to feed on random humans, you wanted the ones you chose to suffer.
You preyed on the titans of Wall Street, the trust fund babies, the old money bastards and all the other men who would have stepped over your corpse in the gutter.
You were beautiful and you knew it. It was never a struggle to ensnare them. You hung around at the fanciest restaurants in the upper east side, and the classiest bars in the financial district. Hunting was pointless, the men came to you.
You spent a few weeks stroking their egos, among other things, and they gave you anything you wanted. The money, the power, the influence they had became yours just as much as it was theirs.
They allowed you into their homes and their hearts. When you were sure that they trusted you, that they loved you, you dropped the mask and showed them who you really were, teeth and all.
Maybe you should feel bad for using them and draining them, and some part of you did feel a small pang of guilt every time the life drained from their terrified eyes.
But you had walked with them at night as they ignored the starving people that lined the streets of the city. They refused to offer even a cent of their “hard-earned” money.
When your eyes welled with tears at the downtrodden state of those around you, they wouldn’t dry your tears. Instead, the rich men would tell you that those stranded on street corners had earned their place in life.
“How will they learn?” they’d ask you. “We can’t just give people money,” they’d patronize you, “this is America! Anyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps nowadays.”
They’d assure you that they helped them more by not sharing a minuscule amount of their vast wealth. The homeless were a plague on the city, they’d insist. Didn’t you want them to help themselves?
So the men you killed, their deaths didn’t bother you much.
You shivered as you replayed their screams over and over again in your head. They called you a murderer, a monster, and maybe you were.
But so were they. You’d killed over and over, but every person on a street-corner they’d all but spit on, every dollar they’d hoarded that could have saved your family all those years ago, they were murderers too, they were more monster then you could ever be.
You were pulled from your thoughts by a firm knocking at your door.
Your blood ran cold. You knew it’d been a risk to feed on those humans that society had deemed to be the elite and important. But you hadn’t realized your actions would catch up with you this quickly.
You didn’t want to slaughter a hoard of police officers, but you’d do what you had to to keep your freedom. You cautiously unlatched the door and pulled it open.
Though you’d expected to be met with the business end of many pistols, the sight before you was much, much worse.
Wrapped in a taupe suit with not a visible wrinkle, glasses perched on his nose, the vision of the man you’d met in the alley all those years ago stood before you, a frown etched onto his face.
You gasped, moving to slam the door on him, but before you could he wedged his foot in, holding the entrance open and pushing past you.
You hadn’t felt so small and weak since you were human. Max had a way of doing that to you.
“Hello daughter,” he uttered nonchalantly as his eyes took in the sight of your stolen apartment.
You clenched and unclenched your fists, struggling to keep your anger at bay. “You’re not my father,” you spit, “not even close. I had a father remember? Because of you I’ll never see him again.”
Max rolled his eyes, “foolish girl,” he stated, “when are you going to realize that this is the only eternity there is.”
He scoffed, “you are too old to be dwelling on fairytales of an afterlife anymore. Your family is gone, it’s been years, get over it.”
You fought back tears as he ridiculed the love for your family you still clung too. Your hand raised to slap him, but he caught it before you could.
“Ungrateful child,” he said through gritted teeth, “you embarrass me and you squander the gift you have been given.”
You snatched your hand from his grasp and rubbed your risk. “I never asked for this,” you reminded him, “you said you’d save my life, but I died in every way that matters, you lied.”
Max rolled his eyes once more, “I tire of your melodrama little girl. I’ve come to bring you home.”
It was your turn to scoff. “Home?” you laughed, humorlessly, “I have no home in California anymore. My home is here now.”
Max smirked, “which home?” he asked, “as I understand it you’ve become the little ‘black widow Robin Hood’ of the upper east side. You’ve had many many homes these past few years, but they’re not really yours, are they?” He raised an eyebrow.
You crossed your arms as your gaze fell. You hated that he was right.
“I’m not going with you,” you whispered.
He hummed, “you seem to be under the mistaken impression you have any choice in this matter.”
He placed his finger on your chin and tilted your head up, “I am your sire. You will obey me.” he commanded.
“I made you what you are, and I can destroy you just as easily.”
You cringed.
“You either come back with me, or you can return to the gutter,” his hand moved from your chin to wrap around your jaw, squeezing tightly, “but if you choose the gutter, I’ll ensure it is your final destination.”
You boiled with rage but you knew Max was right. He was older than you and much stronger. As your sire you were tired to him, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight his thrall.
He stole your mortality, your happiness, and he’d come back to steal your freedom too.
Yet you found yourself gathering your things to leave with him. You hated him, but god, you hated yourself too.
Max flicked the light in the apartment before grabbing your arm and leading you out the door.
He sighed, “I know you resent me now, but I’m only doing what’s best for you. I take care of my children, and I hope that in time you can learn to see me as your father.” he spoke in a rare moment of softness.
You took in his words silently, offering no reply, but sure of the fact that you would never see him as anything other than the man who’d doomed you to an eternity of emptiness and pain.
FYFN Taglist❤️:
(Some accounts it wouldn’t let me tag😭 idk what the deal is)
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On 24th February 1923, the world famous steam train, the Flying Scotsman, went into service.
From the 1920s the train was considered the height of luxury. Onboard there were first-class restaurant facilities, a cocktail bar and radio equipment, so passengers could hear the horse-racing results.
There was even a hairdressing salon where men could have their facial hair shaved with an open razor, made possible because the barber's chair was set in such a position that there would be "no jolting". I'm not sure I would have a shave in a moving train!
The train's hairdresser was reportedly known as "Sweeney Todd of the Rails", given his precarious trade.
In 1928 the train broke the record for the longest regular non-stop train journey in the world, when the LNER ran an express service for the entire 393-mile route.
This record would last until 1948, when, unintentionally, the train broke its own record. The Flying Scotsman ran for 408 and a half miles in May of that year when flood damage to the main line caused diversions via St Boswells and Kelso.
Throughout World War II The Flying Scotsman was one of the few titled trains that continued to operate along the East Coast - it carried troops between London and Scotland, although the headboards and roofboards were removed for security.
And, on 21st June 1958, in a historic move which would signal the decline of steam, The Flying Scotsman was hauled for the first time by a diesel locomotive.
The service is currently run by government-owned East Coast.
In May 2011 they relaunched the service, painting one of their locomotives, the Class 91 No. 91101 with Flying Scotsman branding.
At the launch East Coast said the move was "part of our policy of bringing back train names and restoring pride, passion and even a touch of glamour and romance back to the East Coast railway".
It's not all a romantic journey though, just last September there was, what the called a "slow speed” crash with another heritage train hours before visitors were due to board it.
It happened lwhen the ocomotive was being shunted into place to be coupled with the Royal Scotsman train carriages, which were stationary.
A spokesman for Royal Scotsman train owner Belmond described the collision as “minor” and said there had been no major injuries.
"We are grateful for the prompt attendance by paramedics who were on site to assist the few passengers and team members who sustained minor injuries,” the spokesman said.
"One passenger and one team member are attending hospital for a precautionary check-up.
"All passengers have been transferred to a hotel where our team is on standby to offer support and to assist with our guests’ onward travel arrangements."
Last year ater travelling 10,000 miles across the UK as part of its centenary celebrations, world famous locomotive Flying Scotsman will spend the first part of 2024 on static display at the National Railway Museum in York before resuming rail tours later in the year.
The custodianship of The Flying Scotsman is up for tender later this year, so by this time next year I may be telling you about new "owners"
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Boston Bears: Off-Limits - Rugby Player!Chris x Reader (Part 7)
Summary: It's your first time back in LA following what went down with Bryce. You expected it to be uncomfortable, you didn't expect almost everything to explode in your face
Word Count: 5.9k
Warnings: Fluff! Angst! Brief Minor Violence! Talk of Sexual-Misconduct! Poor Self-Confidence! Mention of Vomit! Talk of Anxiety!
Rugby Explained
Dividers by Me!
Series Masterlist / Masterlist
Chapter 7
The stadium was already full when Chris stepped out onto the pitch to warm up. The LA heat was almost unbearable compared to the East Coast spring weather. Chris scanned the crowd which was full of LA Lions fans but to Chris’ joy, he could still see the occasional blue shirt of the Bears fan. Dedicated fans who made the long trip or kept their allegiance after moving.
Today was the first away game for a few weeks. It was an important match as the Lions were the main competition for the playoffs and championship, but also because it would prove that the current winning streak wasn’t because the Bears were at home.
Training had been intense the past week, Coach blasting the heating so the change in temperature wouldn’t be too stark. They also arrived in LA Wednesday evening despite the match not being until Saturday. It allowed them to train in the heat and recover from the flight so they were all fighting fit.
As Chris warmed up he glanced over to the bench where you were stood with the other medics. You looked good in shorts and a sports vest instead of the tracksuit you normally wore, but Chris kept spotting you glancing over at the Lion’s bench nervously.
You hadn’t told him exactly why you left the Lions so suddenly but he guessed it wasn’t for a happy reason. You seemed hesitant to be back here. Chris had a suspicion though, one he had when he was doing his research for tonight’s match.
He had watched all of the Lion’s games from this season to fully understand how they were trying to play. Despite knowing you obviously worked there, He was surprised when he first saw you on the footage, he wondered how he never noticed you before because now he couldn’t stop looking for you. It was one match that caught his attention though, it was the last match the Lions played before you left.
He could see in the small glimpses he got of you that you were acting different, acting like you were now Chris realised. In the footage, he watched as the Lion’s fly-half, Bryce Langley, went down and you jogged onto the pitch. Unlike all the other times you saw to Bryce in previous matches, you seemed pissed off, you snapped at him and even chucked a water bottle at him.
If Chris had to guess, Bryce was at least part of the reason that you left so suddenly. He just hoped Bryce stayed away today and didn’t cause you any more trouble.
Chris went back to warming up, practising his kicks. The crowd were doing their best to put him off, jeering as he did his run-up. But to his delight and their disappointment Chris slotted the ball between the posts each time. Chris grinned when he bent down to grab his tee, sending a winning smile to the crowds as he turned around only to see Bryce was watching him from his side of the pitch. Chris barely acknowledged him as he walked off to join his team for some drills.
When it was time to head back into the changing rooms to get ready for the match, Chris timed it so he walked by the bench next to you “You okay?” he asked quietly, pausing for a moment.
You gave him a small smile and nodded “Good just promise me you’ll beat the crap out of them” you asked.
Chris grinned and nodded his head “It’ll be my pleasure” he promised as he carried on towards the changing room only to notice Bryce once again watching him.
Soon enough it was time for kick off and both teams came out of the starting blocks with fire in their veins. It was a brutal first half and hard hits and each team scrapped to get over the try line only to be unsuccessful. The only points on the scoreboard were from penalty kicks.
There had been plenty of breaks as different players on either team needed some medical attention. Whenever there was a break the medic team would jog on, a couple going to the players that were down, the rest bringing water on for the rest of the team.
You had been mostly on water duty and whenever you came over Chris somehow always managed to end up standing up next to you. You occasionally brought on some instructions that had been radioed down from your dad.
After the most recent break when you went to leave the pitch, you gave one last instruction from your dad directly to Chris. Chris nodded and patted you on the shoulder as you left before moving to get back into position for the restart.
As he took up his position ready to kick the ball ready to start the next phase of play he spotted Bryce was watching him intensely and not because Chris was about to kick the ball, Bryce was also looking at you as you walked off the pitch.
Chris decided to take this moment since Bryce was clearly distracted, he checked the ref was ready to go and kicked the ball the restart the game. It was another rough ten minutes that ended with the ref calling both Captains over for a talking too, which to Chris’ annoyance meant Bryce came walking over. Chris ignored him as the ref told them both to get the penalties under control otherwise players would start getting sent off, but when they went to walk back to their respective teams Bryce spoke up.
“See you’re close to our old medic,” He said.
Chris arched a brow but didn’t engage.
“She’s a bit of fun isn’t she” Bryce smirked with a disgusting wink before turning away.
Chris clenched his fists as he took in that snippet of information. You and Bryce had been in some sort of relationship, one that clearly didn’t end well. Chris knew that it had to be Bryce’s fault and the reason why you were so nervous to be here and it made Chris’ blood boil. If he hurt you then Chris was gonna kill him.
Thankfully for Chris, he played the perfect sport that allowed him to dispense some justice, he just needed to play it carefully.
It was only a couple of minutes until half-time when the perfect opportunity presented itself. Johnny had kicked the ball down the pitch and it was going straight into Bryce’s hands. Chris timed his run perfectly, hitting Bryce with a hard tackle as soon as his boots touched the ground. The ball was knocked free the hit was so hard, yet Bryce just laughed as he lay underneath Chris.
“You can do better Evans” he chuckled.
Chris bit back a growl as he went to push himself up and rejoin the game but Bryce spoke up again.
“And I don’t mean the tackle, there better lays out there, she’s shit in bed” Bryce smirked up at Chris.
Chris saw red but still had enough reason to stop himself from punching Bryce. If he threw the first punch he would be sent off for the rest of the game, he wanted Bryce to throw the first punch. So instead he grabbed Bryce by his shirt, lifted him up and slammed him back into the ground before standing up so he looked more innocent.
Bryce took the bait, jumped to his feet and swung, his fist connecting with the side of Chris’ face. The crowd exploded as the two teams piled in, it was only once Chris and Bryce were surrounded and hidden from the cameras that Chris threw a punch, but not before getting a couple more to his face. Chris could feel blood trickling down from his forehead and he was pretty sure his lip was split.
Eventually, the teams and refs were able to break the fight up. Ari had his arm around Chris’ shoulders as he led him away to ensure Chris didn’t go in for round two even though they both knew Ari was more likely to go in again out of the two of them.
The medics ran onto the pitch, you ran straight to Chris “What the hell happened” you hissed as you passed him a water bottle and held some gauze to his eyebrow which was bleeding.
Chris squeezed some water into his mouth to sloosh out the blood before spitting it back onto the pitch “Don’t worry about it” he muttered.
A worried look passed over your eyes as you glanced over toward Bryce who was also being treated, when you looked back at Chris it looked like you wanted to be sick.
“Chris-” you started but Chris interrupted.
“Later”
You nodded and returned your attention back to getting the bleeding to stop. As you did so the ref who had been talking to the TMO walked over and showed Chris a yellow card. Chris sighed, it wasn’t great but at least it wasn’t a red which was the card that was shown to Bryce.
Since the fight had started in the 40th minute the ref called the end of the first half allowing all the players to head back to the changing rooms.
“Hold onto this and I’ll patch you up better in the changing room” you instructed as you grabbed your bag and stood up.
Chris did as he was told and held onto the gauze as he started to walk off the pitch, as he did so he glanced up to where all the coaches sat and watched the game. Even from this distance, he could see the look of fury on your dad’s face telling Chris he was about to get a bollocking in the changing rooms.
Once inside, Chris sat down in his cubby and let you carry on treating him. The cut on his brow had stopped bleeding allowing you to apply butterfly stitches to keep the cut shut. You then added a bandage to help protect it while allowing him to continue playing.
You were just cleaning up the small cut on his cheekbone and split lip when your dad finally stormed into the changing room “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT EVANS!” he bellowed loud enough to make the entire team flinch.
“I’m sorry sir, I just saw red” Chris apologised.
Your dad shook his head “That isn’t like you Evans! What on earth was he doing that provoked you” he asked.
Chris noticed how you froze for a second, a flash of fear passing over your eyes that only Chris could see.
“He was trash-talking Jensen and it just pissed me off” Chris lied, Jake looking over at him surprised.
“It's true I heard it, he deserved it” Johnny piped up.
Chris shot Johnny a thankful look, he knew Johnny hadn’t heard a thing but he clearly put two and two together.
“Right well good for you for sticking up your friends” Coach Y/L/N sighed “At least you didn’t throw the first punch” he then turned your attention back to you “Is he good to back on?”
“Just about to do the head injury assessment now” you responded.
Your dad nodded “Okay well it’s going to be 14 men on both teams for the first ten minutes of the second half so we should expect them to hit us hard during those ten minutes, but as soon as we get 15 men back on the pitch we need to hit them hard and make them regret losing Langley”
As he continued on with his halftime talk, you did the head injury assessment on Chris which involved a lot of you looking into Chris’ eyes. He just hoped you could see the reassurance he was trying to convey in them.
Today had been a disaster. You really regretted coming back to LA. Your dad had said that you could stay back in Boston if you really wanted to but you wanted to prove to yourself that you weren’t haunted by LA. Tommi was here, you needed to be able to visit her and the team would always play here at least once a season.
You had felt sick the entire time you were in the stadium, you could feel a thousand eyes on your back. The only time you felt better was when you felt Chris’ eyes on you, they felt like a gentle touch in between the stabs of pain.
It was enough to make you feel better, feel safer. You could do this, the tightness in your chest dissipated.
That was until the fight broke out between Chris and Bryce. You knew it had to be over you. You didn’t know exactly what Bryce but you had a good idea and all the progress you made was gone in an instant.
You had been feeling better about yourself following your night out with the ticket office girls. Whether he knew it or not Chris had built you back up by making you smile, he took you to bed and seemed to worship you. You felt more like the person you had been before everything happened.
But now Bryce had poisoned it. He has told Chris about you and you felt like you were back to square one.
Chris had said ‘later’ when you tried to ask him and you couldn’t work out if it was a good or bad later. Considering you had yet to speak to him following the match you felt pretty confident it was a bad later.
You had eaten dinner with your Dad who wanted to make sure you were okay being back in LA. When everything went down with Bryce you had called your dad in tears, you hadn’t told him every detail just that you had been in a relationship with a player and it ended so badly that you needed out. Your dad went into instant over-protective mode and you had to convince him not to jump straight on a plane over.
To anyone else, it would have been awkward talking about this sort of thing with their dad, but it had been just you and him, he’d been your mom and your dad so it felt normal. He didn’t know that the fight between Chris and Bryce was because of you, he’d believed the lie Chris had told him. Whether he lied to protect you or himself you didn’t know.
Now you were just sat alone in your hotel room, chin resting on your knees as you hugged them close to your chest. It was late but you couldn’t sleep. You were still waiting for Chris to come to discuss what had happened. He hadn’t texted you or said anything since the game but you knew it was only a matter of time.
It was half an hour later that you heard a light tapping of knuckles on your hotel room door. You took a deep breath and pushed yourself off your bed, wrapping the loose long cardigan you wore around yourself tightly.
Like you suspected you found Chris on the other side of the door, an unreadable look on his face “Can I come in?” he asked quietly.
You swallowed and nodded as you stepped aside and let him in. He walked in and took a quick look around your room before he turned back to face you. He had changed into comfies, grey sweatpants and a navy blue tee. The cuts on his face looked better even if bruises were starting to form.
“Everything okay?” you asked quietly.
Chris nodded “I just thought I’d find out why I took a total of 3 punches to the face for you today” he said.
“Chris I-” you started before your voice gave out, your own body silencing you.
“You left LA because of him right? You were dating him and it went bad” Chris stated his hands buried in his sweatpant pockets probably to hide the fact that they were clenched.
“Yes,” you whispered.
“What happened? Did he hurt you?” Chris pressed taking a couple of steps forwards towards you.
“He- he uh - it-”
“You can tell me” Chris promised.
“I know I just- it’s just-”
Chris let out a long sigh and dropped his head “It’s okay don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I… I just wanted to make sure you were okay” he said softly.
He lifted his gaze to meet yours and you could see the sincerity in them. It made your heart completely melt. It was at that moment that you realised that you did want to tell, you wanted this all off your chest even if it meant he left you because you couldn’t live the lie anymore.
“I want to tell you, I do…” you muttered looking down at the floor, fiddling with the sleeves of your cardigan “It’s just difficult” you admitted.
Chris nodded his head “That’s okay, take however long as you need” he said softly.
You bit your lip and nodded your head. Your mind was running at a million miles per hour trying to work out what you wanted to say or how to say it. You took a few deep breaths and tried to talk but every time you opened your mouth nothing came out no matter how hard you tried.
You looked back up at Chris and saw him patiently waiting for you. He wasn’t trying to rush you, he looked sympathetic and understanding. Which actually made it worse because you weren’t sure you could see that face change to disgust as you told him everything that happened.
“I’m sorry I- I can’t look at you when I… I just can’t” you said before turning around so your back was to Chris.
You took a couple more deep breaths, once you got going the rest would just fall out. You just needed to take that first step. You’d done it before with your Dad and Tommi so why was it so hard now? You’d done it before, you could do it again. You could do it.
“I had a crush on Bryce for a while, I never properly knew him but I thought he was hot and he seemed nice, he was a good laugh” you finally managed to say “Then at the Christmas party he finally reciprocated, I thought it would be a one-time thing and I was okay with that too but he kept coming back and I kept letting him in” you explained trying to keep your voice level, “he asked to keep it quiet, said it was to protect me, made me think it was exclusive when it wasn’t” you swallowed as you prepared yourself to recall the hardest part of the story “at my last match for the Lions I overheard him talking about me and not just him telling the team that we were together he told them everything, told them so much that I may as well have walked in naked and given them the information myself and it wasn’t like he was bigging me up, here was tearing me down, saying how shit I was- the disgust in his voice… I tried to brush it off and say it was just locker room talk but all of them just looked at me like I was naked and I felt so violated I-I had to leave”
You had to take a moment as the tears streaming down your face made it near impossible to talk but the floodgates were open and truths you hadn’t even voiced before came streaming out.
“It made me feel like spoiled goods, I’m not someone who asks for reviews and the first I got was the worst you could ever get and my confidence just went. I tried to get myself back on the horse to prove him wrong but that voice was still in my head, it still is telling me how disgusting I am and how there was no way that you’re enjoying this as much as you say” you shuddered “and even if you didn’t realise it then I’m sure after hearing all this you do now and it’s fine if you want to stop, want to leave… I wouldn’t blame you”
Silence fell in the room. The only sound was your sobs that you tried and failed to hold back. You covered your face with your hands to hide your tears, tried to stop them.
It felt like an eternity had passed, so long that you were certain that Chris had left and you hadn’t heard him go. That was until you felt his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you up as you completely broke down.
You were so distraught that you hadn’t even registered that he’d turn you around until your head was buried in his chest. Your fist clutching his tee as your tears soaked the fabric. He rubbed your back soothingly, his other hand cradling the back of your head.
You were faintly aware of him whispering comforting words in your ears as he pressed kisses to the top of your head. It was soothing and heartbreaking all at the same time. Chris was being so sweet and it pained you to think that you thought he wouldn’t. He’d given you no real reason to think the worst of him yet you did and you felt awful about it.
Your body began to shake with exhaustion. All the adrenaline that had been pumping through your body all left at once making you feel weak. Chris instantly picked up on it though as he scooped you up and moved to sit on the bed, you curled up in his lap.
With the exception of the comforting words he was whispering, he just let you cry it out, he didn’t try and get you to stop he just held you. It was only when your sobs receded and turned into hiccups that he spoke.
“Firstly I am so sorry you had to go through all that, I would have hit him harder today if I’d known” he sighed “But secondly… don’t you dare believe a word he says, you are not spoiled goods, you are not disgusting, and you can be damn well sure I have never felt that way about you either” he continued cupping your cheek as he tilted your head back so he could look into your eyes “when I’ve told you how much I enjoy our time together and how fucking good it makes me feel it is 100% the truth because I would never, ever lie to you about something like that”
“But-” you started but Chris silenced you by running his thumb over your lips.
“You are easily the sexiest woman I have ever had the pleasure of spending time with, you are like a drug that I cannot and do not want to quit” Chris stated, his voice full of conviction.
“Then why did he-” you sighed shaking your head.
Chris shrugged his shoulders “I don’t know, Bryce is so fucked in the head that I don’t even want to dive into his messed up mind to try and figure it out but I can guess that like all bullies he was projecting his own insecurities onto you and decided he needed an ego boost and so he started to brag” he sighed “all of it is on him not you”
You let out a long sigh and rested your head back against his chest as you thought back to all the times you had spent with Bryce, the memories completely different without the rose tint “he definitely isn’t the best I’ve had” you muttered “that award goes to you”
Chris snorted with laughter, and shook his head “I can say the same thing about you” he said softly.
“Thank you” you whispered “I am sorry you got punched by him today, I should have told you about all of this before”
Chris shook his head, his hand running soothingly up and down your back “It’s okay you weren’t ready to tell me, plus if you had I probably would have been the one who got given a red card because I would have outright punched him the first chance I got, I should really give you the man of the match medal” he chuckled.
“I thought Johnny got player of the match” you pointed out, brow furrowed in confusion. You could definitely recall Johnny showing it off in the changing rooms despite how awful you were feeling at the time.
“He gave it to me, said if I hadn’t taunted Bryce into the fight we wouldn’t have had the 1 man advantage and he wouldn’t have been able to score as easily as he did” Chris explained “So remind me tomorrow morning to give it to you” he smiled softly.
You shook your head “You keep it, you deserve it for sticking up for me”
Chris nodded but you had a sneaky suspicion that it would somehow end up in your possession anyway.
“Can I ask you something?” Chris then asked, you nodded your head to tell him to go on “Did you report what he did to you?”
You let out a long sigh and nodded your head “Yeah I went straight to the head coach after the match, to his credit he was really good about it, he launched an investigation into it but all the team took Bryce’s side and said he never said anything about me, it was my word against all of theirs and while the head coach believed me he said his hands were tied” you recalled.
Chris swore under his breath “That’s utter bullshit, he could have done so much more” he said his voice almost like a growl “I’m glad you left, seems like that entire club is backwards and not a safe space for anyone”
You nodded and let out a sigh “You’re right, it would be nice if there was some justice”
Chris hummed in agreement “I know, but there will be, these things have a way of working themselves out, and in the meantime, Bryce is walking around with a nasty black eye so he won’t be getting any attention for a while” he smirked.
You chuckled softly before yawning, the exhaustion from today finally catching up with you. You were finding it difficult to stay awake, especially in Chris’ warm and safe embrace.
“You tired?” Chris murmured as he looked down at you.
You looked up at him with droopy eyes, there was no denying that you needed to go to sleep but you really didn’t want Chris to leave “Not really” you said.
Chris gave you a knowing look “C’mon let's get you to bed” he hummed standing back up.
You tried to protest but it was an impossible battle as Chris pulled back the covers and guided you to climb in. You managed to grab hold of his hand as he pulled up the covers.
“Will you stay?” you whispered.
Chris smiled softly as he nodded his head “I’m not going anywhere” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You watched as he stood back up and pulled his tee over the top of his head, turned off the lights, before climbing into bed with you. As he settled he pulled you into his side so you could rest your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you securely the weight of his arms comforting. It didn’t take long at all for you to fall asleep, only faintly aware of Chris kissing the top of your head as you drifted off.
To Chris' relief, you fell asleep quickly. He watched as all the tension and worry left your face and you completely relaxed as you slept. It took him a bit longer to be able to fall asleep himself. His mind focused on replaying back every interaction he’d ever had with you, noticing all the signs he’d missed.
Like how you were so set on making sure you were on the same page on exclusivity and how many details would be shared with others. He could tell it was important to you at the time but now he knew it was because you were trying to protect yourself, trying to ensure Chris wouldn’t do what Bryce had done.
He could also recall all the times an odd look would pass across your face. While he didn’t know exactly what you were thinking in those moments, he knew there were doubts and fears that only existed because of the damage Bryce had done.
Chris now understood why your dad was so adamant that none of the players messed with you. Hell Chris would be the same if his daughter had been so broken by a rugby player, heck Chris might even try and convince them to leave and use their skills elsewhere. He just hoped that Chris’ good reputation would be enough to convince your dad not to kill him.
Chris took one more look at you and studied your peaceful face for a few moments before deciding he should try and get some rest. It had been a long day afterall and his face still really hurt. The pain subsided though as he held you closer, breathed in the smell of your shampoo and let himself fall asleep.
Chris wasn’t sure how or why he woke up, all he knew was that he felt you tense in his arms before quickly climbing out of bed to make your way to the ensuite. He waited in silence for you to come back but what felt like an eternity passed and you didn’t. He waited long enough that he too climbed out of bed to make sure you were okay.
He tapped his knuckles gently against the hardwood door, he heard you suddenly sniffle in response “Everything okay in there?”
“Yeah,” you responded, your voice weak and shaky.
You weren’t okay, he’d known that from the moment you woke “You decent?” He asked, you hummed in response “Good, 'cause I’m coming in”.
Chris heard you protest, you said you were fine but Chris knew it was a lie. He got his confirmation of that fact when he found you sat on the cold tiled floor, knees hugged close to your chest. Sat right by the toilet which had its lid up ready to be used.
“I’m fine” you repeated weakly, but Chris saw the shiver that ran through your body.
Without saying anything Chris grabbed the fluffy bathrobe that hung on the back of the door and draped it around your shoulders “You’re not, and that’s okay” he said gently as he sat down next to you.
“It’ll pass, it always does” you whispered as you wiped your fingers under your eyes. All the colour had drained from your face and you looked exhausted, like someone who was about to be sick.
Chris’ brows pinched together “This happens regularly?”
You let out a long sigh as you hugged your knees closer to your chest “Ever since… you know…”
“Oh”
“Not every night, it comes and goes sometimes for long enough that I think it’s not gonna happen again and then it does”
Once again Chris was thinking back to all the times he’d spent the night, or you had come back to his. Trying to remember a time when you’d crept out of bed and he didn’t notice. The only time he could think of was the first night you spent at his house, you hadn’t shared a room let alone a bed but Chris remembered finding you downstairs. He cursed to himself that he hadn’t noticed it then, with hindsight he could recall how you didn’t look quite right and you seemed skittish.
“You had this the night of the Barbeque didn’t you?” he asked wanting to confirm his suspicions, you gave him the smallest of nods “Why didn’t you say?”
You shugged your shoulders weakly “I don’t know, the feeling had mostly gone by the time you came downstairs, maybe I was trying to rationalise it and say it was the alcohol and honestly… I just didn’t want to talk about it” you admitted.
Chris nodded his head understandingly “Have you spoken to anyone about it?”
You nodded your head “Yeah I told Tommi, she made me take a test, multiple tests, but they were all negative so at least it's not that but I don’t know what it is, I just get this sudden wave of nausea that wakes me up, my heart is pounding like I’ve just run miles but I’m never actually sick it feels like I’m on the verge”
Chris nodded slowly as he took in all that information, he studied you and was able to recognise a lot of what you were doing, he’d done it all before in his past.
“It’s anxiety” Chris answered, your head snapped over to him in surprise “I used to get that exact same feeling when I suffered from anxiety, still get it occasionally”
“But why?”
Chris shrugged his shoulders “Nobody really knows, but you told me something that happened to you that was traumatic to you and it was probably playing on your mind even if you didn’t realise it and triggered this”
You heaved a deep breath as you nodded slowly before resting your chin on your knees “I guess that makes sense”
“It’ll get better, I promise” Chris reached out to gently take your hand and hold it “How do you feel now”
You shifted your head so you could look over at him “It’s gone, I’m just very tired”
A gentle smile tugged at Chris’ lips “That’s normal too, people think anxiety and other mental illnesses are just mental, but they affect you physically too” You gave him a weak smile “C’mon let’s get you to bed”
He carefully helped you to your feet, holding you steady knowing your legs would feel weak. Once up on your feet, you looked up at him and Chris could have sworn he saw the start of tears in your eyes but before he had a chance to ask you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly.
Chris wrapped his arms around you in turn and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. He’d seen a completely different side of you tonight, the side you’d kept hidden. He felt his heart race as he recalled how broken you looked when you explained everything, how you seriously expected him to leave afterwards like you were undeserving of any form of care.
He wished he’d gotten a bigger punch in at Bryce for causing all this pain, he wanted blood even though deep down he knew that wouldn’t help you and helping you was more important. He was gonna be there for you, whenever you needed it but he wasn’t going to tell you that because he knows that just being told that it’s okay and someone is there to help isn’t enough, you needed to be shown it. Actions speak a thousand words. So in that moment, Chris swore he’d be there for you whenever you needed it, he’d show you that you were deserving of care and how exactly you should be treated, he’d build you back up piece by piece so you could never be hurt like this again.
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What are some Maria headcanons that you have?
( @izunias-meme-hole)
Lady Maria headcanons post (part 1) :
Alright! Well I already share those a while ago : https://www.tumblr.com/fantomette22/743244500505378816/lady-maria-vs-keeper-of-the-old-lords?source=share +couple of other around my blog
So I will try to share other things not just related to « Maria could do pyromancy from her living if she really wanted to but was actually terrified by it! Because she didn’t want to use her own blood to inflict pain and death. » also I won’t explain in detail how I hc she got her Rakuyo : by directly going to the East herself! (Yamamura’s country).
🍂But why did she name it like that? The Rakuyo? Well Rakuyo means « fallen leaves » right? Well, when she finally got her blade she needed to baptise it, to use it properly for the first time. And guess on what she uses it? A fallen leaf! (naturally falling in autumn). Cut it straight in two halves. And that’s how she knew how she was going to name it.
Enjoy the ride t's going to be long ;)
⚔️She got an Evelyn gun during her teenage years and before the Rakuyo she often train & fight with both a chikage and a reiterpallasch (she really like dual wielding 😎 or maybe with another sword like the shadow could have been a thing she fight with 🤔 but yeah I guess she was trained with all type of weapons) I wonder if she could have been a bit ambidextrous too.
⚜️Ok now concerning her family (tree) I have at least 5 different headcanons for it 💀but let’s just go with my main one aka the fic verse one (where she’s just Annalise’s cousin XD). Because if you get me started on the alternatives it’s just never gonna be over XD (those are really in very different timelines. It’s not really the same characters & events are different)
🩸I imagined she had quite a mixed relationship with her family. It’s like when you love them bc it’s your family, you like the good memories and nice moments you have, this little chill & special outings etc but there’s also some stuff you’ll never be able to forget or forgive them. You feel you need distance and be autonomous to not get hurt by them anymore, to not get frustrated and misunderstood. Just have news and share things outside.
She never really fit in with her peers. Kinda an odd one who just masks really well to fit into the mood when asked of her. I prefer to say « a (white) wolf » in a pack of hounds in context but yeah black sheep in a white flock if it’s easier to understand x) She had a lot of pressure on her shoulder as well (being the last pyromancer and not far in the line of succession)
But she really likes her close cousins which she grew up with (Annalise, Vled), a couple of other friends (Charles, Svetta, a couple of future young knights etc) as well as younger relatives and kids (Leo etc)! But she doesn’t get that much along with the others. Like she goes along better with the servants probably.
⚜️She mainly grew up between Cainhurst and where her parents had lands and their manor (in the north, near a coast). Her parents are often not there because they are sent by the crown to places so it's complicated . When her mother is in a good mood that’s mostly fine, her dad is a bit more chill (he taught her how to play a lot of card games and poker too! She probably played 2-3 times with money at stake. She prefers amical things. She will absolutely beat your ass at it too. She’s the definition of having a poker face XD)
👑She was a lil bit raised like a future lady in waiting but more as future knight (page (of the king), squire, knight training etc really rough training too 💀 very dark shit hm like beat the shit out of people while wearing a full weight armor, swim in a ice lake and idk shot hm dead things… I swear there’s more fun things but hm yeah…)
That one really isn’t fun as well but i imagined that during her teenage years she already had to deal with mental health issues (due to well some pb with her family etc). Thankfully, she did get better after spending a summer a bit far away at a friend's home (to simplify). Still she got scared for some years afterwards that some of those dark thoughts would eventually return. Thankfully it didn't for most of her life. She got some happy times…Bad times too but not that bad until well probably more than 15-20y later where you know… she would sadly not make it out this time.
🌌She was accepted as Byrgenwerth and went to mainly study sciences, astronomy, but did learn a bit of theology as well as medicine (basic medicine stuff, nurse & help midwife etc). She did 5y and got a master degree. She also participated in underground expeditions arranged by Byrgenwerth.
⭐️She probably know how to speak way more than 2 languages : whatever they speak in Yharnam, latin/pthumerian language, whatever the equivalent of Japanese is and probably a bit of other European languages too. Oh a north/slavic languages as well, because she had ancestors from there too).
🐴When she was very little they got some borzoi I guess but most of her life at Cainhurst she got 2 siblings crows (I have Phobos & Deimos names in my draft) as well as her own horse, named Filan. (mean little wolf in gaelic/irish apparently? Speaking of which Maria's nickname when she was little was "little wolf" maybe in another language too). She probably had a couple of plants too.
(suppose to be almost a full black horse but i’m not 100% settle because i could go full horsemen of the apocalypse aesthetic with other knights if i change the colors… but in my first draft that’s a black horse yes)
🔥When she was very little they discovered she could eventually have pyromancer blood power.It might have been a huge pride for them and honor for her but… clearly Maria didn’t want to become like the shadows of the antics pthumerian royals. A silent and hidden knight who kills without asking questions… clearly she wasn’t really found of this idea 😅 Thankfully for her she don’t know or to use such power and didn’t put much effort to try to learn it (in life she will probably accidentally use it 2-3 time…)
She highly respects a lot of traditions and culture from Cainhurst but there’s stuff like exposing the remains of animal prey that she found a bit barbaric. She doesn't mind others using blood blades and she will do it alone/ for training or even in choreography but she doesn’t wish to hurt or kill with it.*
💔So she was supposed to become a royal guard but things didn’t go like they should have…the poor young knights got into a fight with something by accident… a mortal trap they couldn’t win… only Maria made it out alive. Very hurt and slightly traumatized… She then had a huge fight with her family & relatives about what happened. She couldn’t even send news to her friends bc they forbid it to calm any rumors about what happened…Hm then Maria’s family decide to send her more north where her parents have lands etc so things calm down and she could ya know do her knight work or smt. Anyway she run away at Byrgenwerth💀
Sorry for the meme jebfekb I am not giving lot of details for now but it's highly link with my Knight & Beast of Cainhurst story.
(Why this meme too? Well due to rumours her friends legit thought she died 💀 she went to Byrgen only 1-2 months later. During the holidays. So she sent to like Ludwig & the other who weren't there letters to tell them she was ok. That's were came this meme XD)
❤️🩹Anyway she was partially disowned of some stuff for a bit and didn’t came back at Cainhurst for while. But after some times, her and her family wanted to both apologize and reunite, but without an occasion it would be complicated. Well, until a CERTAIN SOMEONE stole the forbidden blood to Cainhurst and tell them Maria helped 💀 (she had no idea, and he only did that bc he owns her one). So she didn’t approve but she kinda reconciled and they gave her the occasion to do a mission for them later on, in JAPAN (the Eastern land) and well you know the rest.
⚓️She had the occasion to go to « Japan » and have her dream of becoming like half in charge of a ship after getting her master degree! (she just did navigation stuff with the stars but maybe she was captain lol that’s what she wanted to do when she was little actually. But reading Evelyn diaries and not just the novels she realised how hard it was to always have such life h24)
Congratulations Lady Maria!
After really hard years.. and trauma… and a exhausting presentation
You win :
a master degree in astronomy (sciences & other things)
a nice meal with your parents & family that congratulate you
a big part of your inheritance back!
a super wine bottle to share with your friends
a trip to japan
finally your promised personalised double sword
a personalised hunting attire when you came back
to able to work with gehrman’s hunters & the healing church when you came back
So proud of you ❤️👏
✨Other lil hcs :
Laurence made her very interested in religion. I am not joking, I sincerely believe he converted her somehow. / Made her very interest into great one religion etc
Gehrman saved her life more than once, she did the same. They went into lot of hunt training/camping trip as the beggining of being hunters.
She became great friends with Ludwig, Rom, Caryll, friends Damian too etc back at Byrgenwerth. With Micolash it was a bit more nuanced for a while. Before becoming close friends they were roasting each other often XD but respected each other too.
Her brooch either came from her mother or the late queen (aunt) so a family heirloom I guess. Ressemble a lumenflower.
She helped the early healing church with treating people, make food, teach kids etc
She was highly respected by all the old hunters. Even if she had some tensions with dear Izzy at like the beginning they knew each other XD She earn their respect and everyone ended up very liking her being her kindness, abilities etc
When she was sent alone or with a couple of hunters to help in a secluded villages, people were of course really skeptical at first but she quickly proved them her worth.
I think sometimes she wears dresses… but hey she never wears high heels or ballerina shoes (she hates it so hey she still has her special style! aka huge boots XD) It’s often very simple ones as well. Except at Cainhurst, it’s not very extravagant.
She loves to read tons of books (cainhurst library is there for smt XD)
With her cousins they loved to explore and wander the castle! At night too.. got them into trouble more than once.
Sometimes she wears sunglasses when it’s very sunny (poor girl has white eyelashes you see! she have an excuse)
She really loved the lumenflowers too like i explained last time.
She got some scars at the base of her neck. That’s why she almost always wear a jabot with her broach. (maybe on the hands too. that’s why she often has gloves).
She made (with a bit of help) Gherman’s red scarf while in japan.
“Of the Astral Clocktower” because she basically funded its construction with her own money. So like it’s partially hers on papers. (She did mostly astronomical studies & took care of the patients kind of like a nurse during her time at the research hall
She could play a couple of instruments (especially violin and cello).
Of course she know many ballroom & court dance and taught other to others when they were invited to some places.
She actually can “sing” very well (but more music without real lyrics like the dream ost for exemple) ! She would probably almost never do that in public too.
Some books at the workshop are hers
Oh, did I already told she was very scared of pthumerian pyromancers before she fought the keeper of the old lords?
Ok now because I didn't know what to add to the post I asked some of my friends to help me with questions they wanted to know about! Thanks @heraldofcrow & @fareehaandspaniards there you go:
Was she comfortable with life at Cainhurst? (Before the Vileblood)
I think I answered that above ^ it’s very complex and complicated. Sometimes it goes well (especially in childhood) but sometimes it’s very complicated and not so good… (especially during teenage years and during some events where she got a lot of pressure and all. It got better after all this mess and Vilebloods mess of course (even if some distance was left compared to before).
🩸🐦⬛Bloody Crow’s relation to Maria?
In my main hc he’s the son of Maria’s cousin (Vled, the knight). So her little cousin basically. But to simplify I often say he’s like a nephew to her. I named him Voron! (I know very imaginative it means raven XD) Still unsure if he’s born before or after the hamlet (probably after too) but in all cases Maria was around to help with the birth and to help take care of him for the first couple of days. She loved him very much. Also In the case something were to happen to his parents, well the king & queen would take care of him but if somehow they can’t/something were to happen to them too, Maria promised she would be the one to take care of him.
Still, she died when he was very young. Probably like 3-6 years old. So he does remember a bit. But just a little and he has very good memories of her. But he also saw his family hurting from her disappearance and all and so he grew more mixed feeling but mostly it stays positive. He really looks like her in a lot of ways.
🕷️Rom and Maria friendship 🥺?
I see you want to know more about their friendship! I think They had a wholesome friendship overall! But it didn't begins great. I am trying to write it in my fic since a few months but it's all hard and idk how to do that exactly XD
Like they were doing a group exercise and Rom was pretty bad and it (supposed to be quite easy) and Maria who got frustrated to explain it so much lash out a bit and tell her like “are you dumb or something?”
Everyone in the class isn't very nice to Rom (and Maria) and said worst things behind her back so she thought that was, you know OK somehow and not that mean. But she quickly realized afterwards her mistake, that Rom was the Provost daughter and that she had some disability. But despite that, she was still trying hard and she must be very strong to have the lvl to be here you know!
Maria feels very bad about it (Micolash had dark looks to give her too lmao) but after a while (talking with other people cough cough) she decided to come to her and apologize sincerely and even try to help her on a few things.
Rom was quite surprised at first because nobody, you know approaches her like this to apologize and that's a huge thing considering Maria is from Cainhurst and a noble.
I mean she didn't even have hard feelings against Maria because everyone else is way meaner and she kinda forgot about it. She was quite surprised but also very thankful and they began to talk more. Micolash was the most surprised and he told Rom to be careful to not get walk over, to not believe lies and stuff but he quickly realized that it was genuine. And Rom had to reminded him (with Damian) that well, when he first meet Rom he was kinda of a bully at first! Before becoming a mother hen with Damian.
So yes the two girls began to talk about a lot of things! She even got invited to Rom’s room. There’s tons of insects and underglass and stuff but generally people don't like that but Maria found it cool! She got some back home too and found it very interesting actually! So they quickly became friends with all the little gang. And also they are basically the two girls of the squad! I mean Caryll is in the girls squad too but they can also be in the boys squad so yeah anyway you know how girl besties can be x) you don’t share the same things exactly. Plus Caryll & Rom are really in the must protected squad.
Maria even defends Rom from her family when she came back for the holiday and they asked her if she made some friends and who they were and stuff. And you know uh Mara had to told them in a very exaggerated manners that « oh I'm friend with the Provost daughter you know! » (You know because that's what they want to know, if she made strong connections with interesting people before anything else…)
But of course, you're going to have very rude comments from some relatives or something who’s going to say “oh the retarded one?” 💀 And everyone's looking at him like “can you please not say it like this?” Poor Maria just standing there and dunno what to say because she really cares about her as a friend. She doesn't just want to have friends to show off she has important contacts. She genuinely values those friendships. Sadly, she can’t just tell her family that her friends are mostly “the weird introvert group kids! just like me!”(so she talk about Ludwig too! but don't put too much details on others…)
So yeah they stayed great friends for years. Sadly, in tough moments they didn’t really share what hurt them to the other… (after kos etc maybe a bit but not too much)
🗡️🛡️What or who inspired Maria's path of knighthood in her youth?
History books & knight novels! Her grand uncle, the other knights, king etc, Her family push her/ “let her choose” that way as well.
Lady Evelyn stories (she was like Maria grand aunt/ cousin of her grandparents, mostly an adventurer).
The bodyguard of Annalise’s mother who was at first a mercenary sent to Loran before becoming a royal knight.
🍜What were Maria's food preferences?
Hm i think if it looks/smells average and edible she’s actually not that complicated XD She made a lot of effort through the years to get used to more common and simple food.
My poor girl couldn’t really cooked anything when she arrived at Byrgenwerth besides cutting basic things, make tea, made ramen and skins animal meat (like rabbit) before Gehrman thought her other recipes 😭 (she made great soups afterwards! hunters like it, she cuts aliments well XD but yeah my boy cooks well for everyone he made her liked many simple things that if not done well many don’t like. But bro is the only one who probably likes some chard gratin or something out of everyone…)
Like most of her family, i supposed she would very much enjoy some rare/medium rare meat XD but when it’s EVERYDAY she got very tired 💀 I mean she tried to tell her family it was too much so they respected her wishes and gave her only vegetables for a couple of days… but not like normal meals no! like a whole ass not decorticate salad or full ass carrots with skins and all! 💀 She rapidly apologized like you can guess. (still she can’t stand those damn carpaccio when there’s too much!)
Besides that yeah only non meat dishes don’t bother her at all, she would even prefer most of the time. She likes both sophisticated but also very simple dishes she discovered. Exotic food from the east. Of course my girl liked sushis, fish, sea fruit etc. I mean she used to like it way more before… you know… afterwards many hunters couldn’t just smell white fish for a few days without feeling nauseous…. for Maria she just couldn’t bring herself to eat like 95% of white sea fish anymore… (I guess salmon and thon and lobster were still ok but that’s it really).
And well of course deserts are always so nice so whatever 🤤
🌻Her relationship with Adeline? /Who is Adeline to her in your interpretation?
(Yeah both of you asked me this one! x) )
Well depending on the interpretations I have two main interpretations for her! (in the AU/very different timeline where Gehrman is like Maria's dad, that's her girlfriend lol) but in my main interpretation that’s not really the case. I prefer to see them as friends and very close friends I think? during her early time at the research hall. Another close friend she made who’s mainly outside of her main group. But both have quite an evolution through the years they knew each other.
If i remember the draft in my head correctly it goes like this :
After Maria graduated (and came back from her mission trip) she went to help the early healing church develop itself and its activities between hunts and going in the pthumerians labyrinth and that’s where she met Adeline.
I supposed Adeline is a Yharnamite? but she lost everything (her family. not sure what happened) and basically didn’t have a home anymore and clearly saw herself as worthless (poor girl had terrible self esteem issues all her life afterwards…) So the early healing church took in some people in need, gave them a place to sleep, eat and heal them if they were sick. Maria took care and helped Adeline during that time (after it was Laurence too).
And so the 2 became friends! In the end Adeline (who had nothing left) decided to dedicate her life to the healing church and helped others as well, so they saw each other with Maria afterwards! They advised each other and could have been a bit confident of each other as well. Of course Maria wasn’t very hyped when Adeline became a blood saint fully (seeing the bad things it could do to people) but she respected her choices.
During the research hall, before Adeline took part in the experiments, she helped Maria, Rom, Caryll etc around with the patients & other things. I suppose because of some dreams/ exposure to something, the decline of everyone's mental health, and maybe other people asking her... she decided to give herself fully to those experiments as well in the end… Her death was one of the last straws for Maria...
----
I know I have more questions left but I am reaching Tumblr word limit soon so I will reblog/make a 2nd post (or even a 3rd)💀 with the rest of the most interesting (and huge) questions! It's not quite written yet but for now this should be a nice distraction and a good reading I hope!
#my asks#bloodborne#bloodborne headcanons#lady maria of the astral clocktower#bloodborne fanfiction#lady maria#my art#fantomette22art
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Splendor Mansion Head Cannons.
Splendor used to share Slendy's mansion, separating it into West and East wings respectively. However after a not so friendly incident in the 80's involving laughing jack and Jill, Splendor chose to move himself and his proxies/helpers to a mansion he built himself.
Speaking of the proxies/helpers.. The reason why he 'collects people' so to speak is because he feels the need to give people who usually don't quite fit in a soft place to land.
Splendor's mark so to speak, takes form of multicolor polka dots in a straight line wrapping around usually one's wrists, waist, ankles, or neck.
He also uses his Proxies/Helpers to send out on missions to go fetch him a magical artifact or two. Usually something particularly dangerous which he doesn't want falling in the wrong hands. This usually causes his Proxies to step on Slender's proxies toes quite a bit.
Anyways onto the house itself. I believe that the respective mansions can travel to wherever Slender or Splendor wants them to be. Splendor rather likes parking his house on the west coast in red wood forests or beside Rocky beaches.
Splendor's mansion itself is rather hard to find if you don't know what your looking for. Basically, if you actively look for it, you'll be lead in circles, but if you could care less, congrats you found it!!
The mansion itself has colorful walls of neon and pastel hues with various plants scattered about.
Splendor asks every new person in the mansion what their preferred decorating style is. And by the end of the initiation dinner, they'll have a whole bedroom styled to their personal taste.
^ because of this, many ghosts inhabiting the mansion get very disoriented when phasing through walls.
Due to the mostly pacifist nature of the residents in splendor mansion, most of the food made is vegan or at the very least vegetarian. Although for the residents who choose to eat meat/animal products there is a separate fridge for them.
There's a chicken coup in the front yard, where in which one particular black silkie rooster is named Jeff.
Has a walk in fridge mostly dedicated to ice cream, sherbet, and popsicles.
The pantry is always fully stocked with every comfort food imaginable.
Splendor's mansion has a lot of natural light coming in the form of, a ridiculous amount of stain glass windows that are downright impressive, various skylights on the second floor, floor to ceiling windows, two different sun rooms, and while not attached to the mansion a very big greenhouse.
The mansion regularly smells like freshly baked bread, desserts, and pastries.
I feel like the decor room by room is from completely different decades, but all goes together because it's so colorful.
Like the kitchen looks like a kitchen from a 2000s sitcom. With those themed kitchen appliances sprinkled in, like a hello kitty beldner, coca cola microwave, a my little pony waffle maker, and toy story pizza maker.
Meanwhile the main living area is very Victorian. (They even have a radioactive clock!)
And the hallways kinda look straight out of a weirdcore Pinterest board.
Has first aid kits in every bathroom. (For obvious reasons lol)
#slenderverse#splendorman#slenderman#splendor man#slender man#slender mansion#splendor mansion#happypasta#happypasta hcs#i think my curse in life is that i will always be obsessed with niche aus instead of popular fandoms#slendy#splendor
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One day, the Tenth Boss of the illustrous Vongola family decides to go for a walk. The weather was good that morning - promised to be good all week. It was perfect for a restorative constitutional.
So the Tenth put on a pair of sturdy shoes and he walked out the front door. He walked through the front lawn, passed the main gates, and down the very long, gravel driveway that lead to the estate. In a half an hour, he reached the edge of the Vongola's property, then he kept on walking.
Now, this was not so strange. The Boss had been stuck behind the desk for the better part of a fortnight. He was trying to iron out a deal with the Insolenza, fiesty famiglia in Monopoli. They had tripled their numbers in under a decade, making good money off "waste management". Their wealth of success went straight to their heads (the ones in their pants), because it takes a pair of brass balls to challenge the Vongola family. They figured if anyone was gonna make a stand - they would have to do it now, in the Tenth's first year as boss, before he got too comfy with his power.
They weren't the only ones thinking so because a bunch of smaller famiglias allied with them. Up and down the coast of Apulia, from Barletta to Bari, capos began congregating. They were easy pickings alone but spite - oh spite could be a powerful, powerful motivator. Who does this foreigner think he is? Huh? Waltzing in like he owns the place? Well, he was about to get a taste of Italy's heel.
All eyes were on the Tenth. At 24 years old, he looked half his age, without any Roman machismo to call his own. He was as hairless as a babe, not even a stray whisker on his lip. And he kept sending foot soldiers, then capos, then finally an underboss to try and reason with the Insolenza and their associates. Each and every one was run out of town in a rain of bullets - but not blood. Not yet. Soon, they promise as each shot gets closer and closer to finding its mark.
The Tenth had to do something.
So he goes for a walk, straight off his property, and into the picturesque town of Rieti. Now, the Vongola have their proper headquarters in Sicily like any self-respecting, old blood famiglia. But a few days ago, the Tenth moved from the Iron Fort into this quaint, little place just east of Rome. People began to speculate that this was the first move - that the Tenth was beginning to shift his forces and launch an all out attack from the mainland. But Monday passed into Wednesday, and as far as anyone could tell, the Tenth was just in his office, doing paperwork same as usual. Sometimes, he goes out to town and buys himself a pastry.
As such, when the Tenth leaves the property, no one bats an eye. He's probably gonna grab himself an expresso and a biscotti before hiking back to the house. Except, he walks right past his favored cafe, and crosses the city lines.
That... That gets everyone's attention.
Of course, the first to react is the Tenth's inner circle. Gokudera Hayato hops on a bike and blazes down the road. He catches up with his boss in no time. From afar, a curious staff watches as the Tenth never once stops walking, cheerfully taking step after step as he talks to his Right Hand. Whatever he says to the Storm Guardian, they will never know, but it's enough for him to clench his jaw, nod, and then back away. No other Guardians reach out after that.
For hours and hours, the Tenth walks, heading down south. By then, all the other famiglias have sat up and tuned in, sending spies to watch his progress. When the sun sets and he reaches Bussi Officine, they all witness as he begins to shift his trajectory, heading east, towards the coast. It doesn't take a genius to figure out where he was going from there. But surely, they think, that can't be right. He can't seriously be going to the Apulia Coast, on foot, not even flying as people say he could. Yet, as the sun fully sinks and the moon rises high and this guy continues to walk eastwards, everyone had no choice but to believe it.
The Insolenza were at a loss. Half of them were laughing their asses off. The other half were plotting, scheming, trying to figure out the hidden plan that the Tenth must surely have. The Vongola Alliance was equally at a loss. Don Cavallone and Don Cozarto reached out to the Tenth's inner circle but his Right Hand offers no explanation.
"Trust in the Tenth," he tells them.
When dawn arrives, the young boss meets another of his men on the road. Xanxus di Vongola has both guns out, incandescent with rage. The Tenth doesn’t even twitch and stares straight at him. Keeping his brow in the line of fire, he continues forward, one foot in front of another until his skull nearly kisses the gun barrels. But by then, Xanxus must have found whatever answer he was searching for because he sheathes his guns, walking alongside his boss. They walk together for two - three hours in complete silence.
On the fourth hour, Xanxus speaks up, but far too quietly for any of the mics to catch. In response, the Tenth laughs - a heavy, throaty chuckle.
“Let them come,” he says.
At that, Xanxus stops walking. For a full thirty seconds, he watches his boss pass him by, going ever onward. Then he spins on his heels and flies away. The drones were able to capture his expression right before he left. It was a sight that prompted many to panic. Xanxus di Vongola rarely has any cause to smile but when he does, people rarely seek the cause.
Observers tracked Xanxus flying back to the Iron Fort. This destroys any claims of the Vongola launching a ground assault or really, any kind of assault. If they were going to wage a war, they would have summoned their prized warhounds.
By now, it’s been forty hours since the Tenth started walking. He has neither eaten or slept. And, as day becomes night, the assassins attack. To the surprise of most, they were not sent by the Insolenza. The Vongola has earned plenty of grudges in their long and disastrous history. There’s plenty of enemies willing and eager to take potshots at an unprotected boss.
Some send a few freelancers seeking glory. Others spend a small fortune hiring Named hitmen. And the rest are known to the Tenth, throwing hands just to keep him company. Those seem to find this whole endeavor hilarious.
The fights are short and sweet but numerous, enough to continue into the morning and through the afternoon. Not a single one, neither friend nor foe, could break the Tenth’s stride. As a result, he leaves a long trail of bodies behind him, all alive if not awake.
This attracts the attention of civilians. Now despite the notorious corruption of local law enforcement, a pair of polizia pull up to the Tenth. They frown and they yell and they light up their sirens. He smiles at them, speaking softly. Before the last words leave his mouth, they rush back to their car, without a bribe in their pockets and with a hefty shit in their pants. The Tenth never once misses a step.
He reaches the coast around the witching hour of the third night. After all that walking, his hair is wilder than a bird’s nest and his skin is several shades darker. A thick layer of grime and dirt cover his bespoke Armani suit and his polished, leather loafers. Yet the Tenth himself remains fair of face and strong of limb. The Insolenza are no longer laughing.
Taking a deep breath of that salty sea air, the Tenth turns south. He walks at a leisurely pace, even taking the time to wave at a few bystanders. The clueless ones wrinkle their noses, possibly mistaking him for some homeless vagabond. This brings a smile to his face and a spike of adrenaline to everyone else. At this time, no more assassins come for the Tenth as everyone shifts their focus onto the Insolenza.
They have set up a blockade. Concrete barriers sit on the road, in front of armored tanks and enough artillery to pulverize a mountain. The fourth day begins with a firestorm. They aim, and they fire, and they keep firing - bullet after bullet, shell after shell, missile after missile. The Italian countryside is transformed into a warzone within the span of five minutes, as deep craters pockmark the earth and dust blankets the air.
It was by the grace of powerful, powerful Mists that such a ruckus was largely ignored. Of course, a couple stray eyes bore witness but they knew better than to speak of it. Aside from the shroud of secrecy, no one else intervenes on behalf of either party. This was now a battle between the Insolenza and the Tenth. Enemies and allies watch on the edge of their seats as the dust swirls and twists.
The Insolenza run out of ammo and a hush falls over everyone. They don’t blink. They don’t breathe. From the lowest footsoldier to the high-handed capos, they could only watch, with ears ringing and pulse racing, as the dust settles.
The idiots are ready to rejoice, and they could be excused for they just unleashed a payload that could shame the United States. But the smarter ones expected retribution - for a wave of that infamous Vongola fire to sweep through the ranks. They get neither.
Schrnk. Schrnk. Schrnk.
At first, they barely hear it. But steadily, the sound grows louder as the footsteps come closer. Striding forward, as if on a relaxing stroll, is young Sawada Tsunayoshi, Tenth boss of the Vongola famiglia. Except unlike before, his bloodline is now proudly on display. On his thin shoulders rests a heavy mantle - blacker than the purest ash, as a crown of Flame sits thick and hot on his brow. He looks at the gathered men before him with eyes the color of a molten metal. The Insolenza reel back as if burned.
The Tenth does not stop walking.
To their credit, the Insolenza do not back down. The first to gather his wits throws a grenade at the Tenth. He bats it away with an easy backhand, flashing the engine-red of his gauntlet-covered fists. The others are not deterred, grinding down and summoning either stupidity or bravery to face the young boss. The day proceeds accordingly.
They throw everything they had left. There is a mountain of over the top violence, swearing, and unnecessary shouting. They flash him the goods, the greats, and the even betters. The Tenth keeps going, never straying from his chosen path, never changing his placid pace. When he reaches the tanks on the road, he lays his burning hands on the chromium armor and without even hesitating, melts his through.
The tank operators had the wisdom to evacuate before he could reach them but that’s the lone wisdom they had. One runs at the Tenth with a steel knife! Steel! They just watched him disrespect the strongest alloy known to man! The Tenth immediately drops that guy without a thought, his ass making a satisfying crunch.
When the Tenth makes it through the blockade, battalions of footsoldiers await him on the other side. There’s an echoing cry as they all charge in a single, furious mass. Their guns lay on the ground, completely empty clips scattered all over. They only had their fists to rely on. By then, pure desperation fuels them. There’s a primal need to mark the Tenth, to reach him in any way. Or else… Or else…
They don’t know. They don’t know! They don’t want to know! The reality they understood would be forfeited entirely. They would have to live with the knowledge that beings far greater - that power they cannot comprehend - that giants walk the earth. Death would be preferred - an act of mercy - in the face of that.
The Tenth has no mercy.
As the footsoldiers charge, the Tenth takes a step. Where his foot touches the ground, ice sweeps out - encasing everything for acres around him. Men are frozen where they stand, locked in mid-step with fists cocked and mouths half open. They don’t get anywhere near the Tenth. The fourth night passes peacefully.
He crosses into Barletta some time after daybreak, with only a spare hundred kilometers separating him from Monopoli, where the Insolenza are located. His clothes sit beneath a gritty, bitter layer of dirt, soot, and oil. But there’s not a single tear to be found in the fabric. Now his shoes have given up, which makes sense given all the walking. Only strips of barely stitched together leather are left on his feet. The civilian citizens of the city scuttle away from him, as if he was diseased and not like he was a Capo di tutti Capi. Their Flame blind eyes fail to notice the burning glow radiating from him.
It’s nearing 120 hours, a grand total of five days, and the Tenth still has not slept or eaten. Even more incredibly, he has maintained a state of Hyper Dying Will for thirty hours and counting. Any average Joe would have collapsed long before now, and even the above average Moe would have looked tired at least. Not this guy. He’s just going and going, breathing evenly, and moving fluidly.
When he leaves the more urban areas into proper enemy controlled territory, he encounters a couple more Insolenza men. But these were the assholes that ran from the battle once they realized the futility of the fight. They weren’t about to grow a spine now that the enemy was literally at their doorstep. So… They just follow him. They shadow his steps for the last stretch of the road as the unyielding and unstoppable boss heads for their headquarters. By the time Monopoli is in their sights, there’s a good three dozen of them just ambling behind him. He pays them little mind, taking it all in stride.
As the Tenth hits the city limits, an obscenely slick Porsche rolls up at his side. His new groupies back all the way up as a tall man steps out, pristine and sinful in his tailored suit. He doesn’t interrupt the Tenth’s walk, but keeps up as he circles around him. Without even zooming in, those watching know the newcomer as none other than the famed Reborn, former Sun Arcobaleno but still the world’s greatest hitman. He doesn’t say a word to his once student but his hands move quickly over him.
Taking a total of ten seconds, he completely redresses the Tenth in a new suit - white and clean as freshly fallen snow. He manages to tame the Tenth’s hair, removing all the twigs and leaves and trash that got trapped in there. With a wet towel, he wipes off the accumulated filth on the Tenth’s face, snapping his teeth when the Tenth lets out an annoyed whine. Finally, he sets down a pair of steel toed, wing tipped shoes for the Tenth to step into. All this was done as the Tenth continued his walk. It would have put any quick change Vegas act to shame.
The Tenth arrives at the gates of the Insolenza compound, perfectly coiffed and properly looking like a Mafia Boss. For the past five days, the head family’s bodyguards were inundated with news of the Tenth’s easy progress towards them. So when they finally laid their eyes on him… There was little they could do beyond standing aside, parting before him like the Red Sea did for Moses. The Tenth nods agreeably and invites himself right in.
Vittorio Alessandro Romano di Insolenza stood waiting at the steps to his front door. He sees the Tenth coming and he meets him halfway, holding out a sheaf of papers in his trembling hand. It’s the treaty that the Tenth sent to him awhile back, the first Vongola men visited. Of course, the Insolenza had torn up every single one. It was just this morning, when Romano sent a screaming call to his underbosses and demanded they find him a copy, that they got one in tact. (The truth is that a wiser underling sent a sheepish email requesting a copy from a bemused Hana Kurokawa, the head of the Vongola legal department.)
“Here, just take it. Take it already. And leave. Leave, damn you!” The Insolenza boss spits out, pulling in short, shallow breaths.
“Of course, but I should sign the treaty first, right?” The Tenth smiles, smooth and gentle as silk.
His former enemy jerks his head forward in an attempt to nod. It looks more like he’s having a seizure. Not that anything he does really matters at this point. It’s all just formalities. That doesn’t keep the Tenth from relishing every second. He takes his time patting his pockets, looking for a pen, before a bodyguard shyly offers one. Then, he spends even more time reading through the document as if the Insolenza boss had any audacity left to change something on the sly. But once five excruciating minutes pass, the Tenth signs the treaty with fancy flourish added to his name.
“There. That should do it,” he announces.
A veritable tsunami of relief washes over the gathered crowd.
“Please leave,” the Insolenza boss murmurs, just a heartbeat away from collapsing on the ground.
The Tenth gives him an arch look. “You know… Your men are impressive, I’ll grant you that. I look forward to working with you.”
The Insolenza boss straight up stares - jaw hanging loose - at the young boss who single handedly terrorized and demoralized his men. Tsunayoshi Sawada di Vongola had just won a war without shedding a single drop of blood, yet at the same time bleeding his enemies of all resources and any will to fight. He won a war by barely striking back, only lifting his hands to move something physically out of his way. He won a war by letting everyone take a good, long, hard look at what exactly he’s capable of.
To hear a compliment - earnest and sincere - from someone like that, well… Romano thinks it wouldn’t be so hard to work with him.
“But you gotta stop dumping radioactive waste in the water.”
“Right, sure.”
The Tenth chuckles - a raspy, rattling sound. “You should come to dinner. We’ll iron out the details. And you’re welcome to take a car or even fly over. Not everyone loves a good hike like me.”
Romano chokes on his spit as something warm trickles down his legs. It’s piss. He just pissed himself. Merda.
Without waiting for a response, the Tenth spins on his heel, tucking the treaty into his suit jacket, and walks out the front gates. The newly allied Insolenza family can only watch as he makes his way down the path at an even, unhurried pace.
Half an hour later finds Tsuna far from the Insolenza manor, strolling into downtown Monopoli. He swings by a nearby cafe, where a plate of biscotti and a fresh cup of espresso sit on the counter in a takeout bag.
“Oh good, you got my order!” He says brightly.
The barista gives him a funny look. “Zio, the app says that you ordered this from Rieti?”
“Yep, I just came down here to pick it up. Thanks!” With that, Tsuna grabs his food and walks away.
He takes maybe ten steps from the cafe before that same black Porsche parks itself in front of him. The door opens automatically and Tsuna climbs right in, careful not to spill his drink.
Reborn looks him over, lifting a slim, single brow. “Dame-Tsuna, we have espresso at home.”
“Sure. But I heard good things about this place.” Tsuna grins, sharp and cheeky and boundless with joy.
They laugh the whole way home.
#katekyo hitman reborn#khr#sawada tsunayoshi#I HAD TO REWRITE THIS STUPID THING#the app GAVE UP on me
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My trip to Taiwan
I took a break from posting because...I went to Taiwan! This was my first time going there, and I was mostly in Taipei. I had a great time and took many, many photos. I'll share some highlights here (along with commentary) to commemorate my trip.
Left: Liberty Square 自由廣場 Right: Chiang Kai-shek Memorial 中正紀念堂
You can't tell here, but there was a row of porta-potties directly to the left of the archway. That was a funny sight. There was also a stage in the middle of the square. Maybe they do outdoor concerts?
Left: Tamsui Old Street 淡水老街 Right: "Sidewalk"
Besides the main roads, most streets lacked raised sidewalks. Instead, they had a painted path. I had to get comfortable being very, very close to cars and other vehicles.
Left: Motorbike parking lot near Tamsui Old Street Right: Covered sidewalk.
I’ve seen motorbikes before in China, but Taipei took things to a new level. Motorbikes were absolutely everywhere. I even saw this parking lot exclusively for motorbikes. They rule the streets.
In the busy downtown districts, you often don’t need an umbrella due to the covered sidewalks. You can walk for blocks and blocks while staying covered. This was pretty convenient on rainy days.
Left: Jadeite Cabbage 翠玉白菜 at the National Palace Museum 國立故宮博物院 Right: Umbrella rack (also at the museum)
Confession—I didn't think the National Palace Museum was that good. Probably because I've been to the actual Forbidden City in Beijing. And sadly, the Meat-Shaped Stone wasn't on exhibit.
In the US, some stores will provide a plastic bag for your wet umbrella. In Taipei, many stores had a rack or basket outside instead. Most were not as secure or elaborate as the one pictured.
Left: Eslite Xinyi Store (bookstore) 誠品信義店 Right: Sun Yat-sen Memorial 國父紀念館
I bought a couple books and a Yoga Lin CD at the Eslite 24-hour bookstore. I only planned to swing by, but I think I spent 2 hours there. I definitely recommend checking it out if you're in Taipei.
Taipei 101 台北101
It was overcast when I went to Taipei 101, but the view was still nice. On the bright side, there was NO line. 101 is by far the tallest building around, so you really feel that you're looking down at the city.
Taroko National Park 太魯閣國家公園
Taroko was the only place I visited outside of the Taipei/New Taipei City area. It's in Hualien county on the east coast. There were so many betel nut stores in the countryside on the way there.
Left: Pond at NTU 國立臺灣大學 Right: 228 Peace Memorial Park 二二八和平紀念公園
Taipei has the best parks! They really put American parks to shame. Before going, I didn't understand why so many Taipei parks are tourist destinations with 4.5+ star reviews, but now I totally get it.
Elephant Mountain 象山
I didn’t realize how mountainous Taiwan is. Taipei is cradled by mountains, so there are many places to hike, even within city limits. I braved the rain for the famous view from Elephant Mountain.
Subway billboard 臺北捷運
The Taipei Metro/MRT was amazing. So fast, clean, frequent, and convenient. US subway systems are a joke in comparison. These are from an amusing series of billboards promoting riding etiquette.
Some other observations:
I was quite impressed by all of the English signage in Taipei. I think it would be very easy to navigate even if you don’t know Chinese. Many stores and small eateries had menus, signs, etc. in English.
I knew Taiwan had many convenience stores, but I was not prepared to see a Family Mart or 7/11 on every block. Someone needs to open this style convenience store in the US ASAP.
I saw numerous adds featuring Korean actors like Son Ye-jin and also kpop groups like IVE and NewJeans. I also heard kpop playing at various stores, whereas in America, I only hear it at Hmart.
I was struck by how many street signs and subway stops names used pinyin romanization. There was a lot of inconsistency and mixing of different romanization systems. For example, you have Taipei vs. Beitou (same character: 北).
There were many Japanese stores, pharmacies, and restaurants. Upon further consideration, this makes sense given Taiwan's history, but it stood out to me nonetheless.
Overall, I had a lovely time in (mostly) Taipei. As a big city (but not too big) surrounded by beautiful nature, there's something for everyone. I already want to go back! Of course I also want to see some other areas of Taiwan too. Maybe next year.
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Maps of Tenebrae by Pockymun
Tenebrae was such a beast. I thought Galahd was difficult; Tenebrae is so much bigger and has continental climates to deal with. Like last time, I nearly lost my mind trying to make sense of the climates, so I kind of gave up.
Most of the writing I've done for FFXV has skirted around Tenebrae, focusing moreso on its politics than the landmass itself. It's been in the background for the most part, largely because I didn't have a proper map to explore with! I copied it the best I could from reference images.
Tenebrae is not as cold as I initially assumed it was. It has a warm ocean current on its western side that brings much rain and warm winds that keep the northern reaches largely temperate. The eastern side of Tenebrae is hit with a cold ocean current, getting far less rain and winds. The fishing is better on the east coast. The southern half of Ulwaat was given a temperate rainforest climate based on what we saw of Tenebrae in Kingsglaive; it had that dark green flora of a rainforest.
I base a lot of my headcanons for Tenebrae off of Western Europe primarily, with a little bit from Northern Europe. The way I figured the latitude lines of Eos, Tenebrae is still well below the subartic circle (assuming Eos has one). It's climate is based upon Ireland, the UK, and Scotland, but those three have only two climates: oceanic and subpolar oceanic. I chose climate terms that best described the forests found in Tenebrae. Because Tenebrae is nothing but forests, mountains, and hills.
Tenebrae is the land of high altitudes and trees. What reference images we have of Tenebrae seemed to have a lot of peaks on it. In the glimpse of Tenebrae that we saw in the movie, there are large rock islands that just float above the rest of the land. While Galahdians have a knack for using magic, Tenebrae itself is a land of magic. These floating islands are unique to its mountains mostly, although a few clusters can exist separately.
Water also seems to be a theme for Tenebrae, with its northern cape, the southern sounds, and a few small bays all around. Where there are mountains, there are rivers running down to the ocean. I imagine there are natural springs all around the country, used as a natural remedy for several ailments.
I will dump my headcanons about Tenebrae below:
I've been talking with @groovytimetravelflower, who has the theory that Niflheim's airships are powered by stones or ores mined from the floating islands. It just makes perfect sense. Niflheim had several reasons to invade Tenebrae: to dominate the whole continent, to establish complete control over trade, and to get their hands on whatever magic exists in the land.
Much of the magic is not well-known nor understood beyond the floating islands. The forests of Tenebrae are old, especially in the north.
The only other country close enough for Tenebrae to trade with is Niflheim. Though Tenebrae has a couple ports of its own, these are not large enough for massive shipyards and international trade. Trading with Niflheim allows Tenebraen trade goods to go farther in the world. The downside is that Niflheim can control all trade that Tenebrae does, taking things for the Empire and blocking imports.
The country is very difficult to navigate because of the terrain. Roads are often winding and go around obstacles; this was done moreso out of the belief that the land could not be damaged by man-made endeavors. Trains have only been established in Ulwaat. There may be a few antique cars, but the most common mode of transportation on main roads are chocobo-drawn carriages, or riding chocobos.
Tenebrae is behind on technology overall: this is a result of Niflheim conquering them so long ago. Niflheim doesn't often invest in the lands they conquer. You can see this in how mainland Lucis has such outdated technology, which was left to languish once the Imperials seized control. Most high-technology Tenebrae is exposed to comes from the Imperial Army and is only used in their operations. Ulwaat is the most developed province. The railroad in Ulwaat was developed by the Empire to more easily transport the stone and ore they mined in the mountains.
The further away one gets from Fenestala, the less modern technology there is. In Morrith, Krahage, and Bruiral, indoor plumbing is a recent technological advancement. Not all places have it; it requires electricity, which is difficult to establish in Northern Tenebrae. Because Tenebrae is such a mystical place and the population is probably very religious because of the Oracle, not a lot of people mind being behind in technology.
Cellphones are unheard of, and you wouldn't get reception in most of Tenebrae anyway. Fenestala Manor probably has a couple TVs, but similarly, reception is terrible. Radio signals come through a little more clearer, mostly because the Imperial Army needs them to.
The architecture of the capital and towns of Tenebrae is Victorian and Edwardian, with art noveau used in Fenestala Manor. Villages typically are full of cottages of wood or stone and roofed with thatch. The typical fashion is also Victorian and Edwardian, although more of the youth have recently begun to wear the modern Western clothing imported from Niflheim. People further north of the Breksos Mountains dress in traditional Celtic and Norse garb.
The Breksos Mountain Range naturally divides Tenebrae into a North and a South. These regions do not strictly adhere to the cardinal directions; it is just what people have referred to it as. Travel through these mountains is especially difficult. There is one passage near Woudoord, but it becomes blocked by snow in the winter, completely isolating the north.
Queen Sylva frequently sent aid in the form of doctors, vaccines, and schoolteachers to Northern Tenebrae. She did a lot to improve the relations across the mountains, although the past few Oracles have never gone north of the mountains. All aid stopped with her death. The Northerners became even more apprehensive of Southerners as they appeared to submit to the Empire.
Northern Tenebrae is even further behind in technological advancements than Southern Tenebrae (ie the indoor plumbing). Northern Tenebrae is very isolated from the rest of the world, especially in the winter. It's rare for a Northerner to travel south, and vice versa. The South views the North as barbarous, and the North view the South as weak. Southerners are prim and proper; Northerners... are not. Both greatly revere the Oracle.
As I said before, Tenebraens are religious, largely in part to the Oracle's presence. Tenebrae has become known as a land of healers, with many practicing natural remedies. The people are generally modest and proper. Victorian and Edwardian social customs still run strong.
Tenebraens are seen as mysterious and exotic to the rest of the world. Niflheim hasn't allow Tenebraens to leave their country since they attacked Fenestala Manor, so it's very rare to see one in Lucis. The rest of the world doesn't really understand the difference between North and South Tenebraens. The differences become clear when putting one of each side by side and listening to the bickering.
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Feel free to use these maps when writing your own fics or headcanons! I would greatly appreciate being credited. These maps are just my interpretation, and don't stand in for canon material. They are flawed, but I worked with what I had. I made these using Inkarnate.
#final fantasy xv#ffxv#tenebrae#worldbuilding#fantasy map#reference#kingsglaive#I could go on but that's too many of my own personal headcanons and plots for fics#I've already said too much
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