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thelostconsultant · 2 months ago

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Not a gold digger

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Fans think you only want Max's money. But as it turns out, you were wealthy before he came into your life--you just don't make it obvious.

warnings: No smut, but there's a part that makes me say MDNI.

note: So... I'm kinda back? Idk, I'll see if I'll stick around.

The toxicity of the fandom was becoming quite entertaining, really. It was the third time since you and Max had made your relationship public half a year ago that someone started an anti gold digger campaign to protect your boyfriend. They truly believed they were doing this for a greater good, and they all begged Max for his attention.

It always began after they sniffed out he had given you something expensive as a gift or took you shopping to a luxury boutique. While there were some people who tried to protect you by pointing out that maybe he enjoyed showering you with gifts, the rest didn't care about that.

You lived in a small apartment back home, you were driving a five years old Renault SUV, and no one knew what you did for a living. This was enough to enrage them and make them believe all you wanted was Max's money at the end of the day. Just think about the way she's looking at him, one of them wrote about two months ago, she's so clearly not in love with him. Poor Max, someone please save him.

Ridiculous.

“Is everything okay?” he asked when he got home and kissed the top of your head.

You were sitting in his sim rig, using the time while it was free to practice, because you wanted to play with him when you weren't here together, and he was more than happy to show you the basics. “Someone started another campaign to cancel me,” you replied casually as you got out with his help.

Even when you were standing in front of him, he didn't let go of your hand, instead he raised it to his lips to place a soft kiss on its back. “Gold digging?” You nodded with a sad look on your face, but less than five seconds later you were both laughing. “Look, I know you're having way too much fun with this, but–”

Without waiting for him to finish, you raised your hand to make him stop. “I'm not stepping out of the shadows, Max. I've been hiding for years, even fucking Forbes doesn't know my real name or face,” you told him.

Back in the old days, when Bitcoin appeared, your geeky uncle had gotten into mining and trading it. He knew the potential, so he put most of his savings into buying them, then he held onto them, and by the time he got sick years later, he knew they were valuable and would be worth a lot more in the upcoming years. In his will, he left his savings and his wallet to you, giving you the chance to use them as you wished since you had learned everything about crypto from him.

So now you had Bitcoin as well as old fashioned investments, and you had used your money to help out an up-and-coming tech company for a forty percent share, and it was later sold to a tech giant for a lot of money. But despite your wealth, you chose to stay under the radar, because you loved your small apartment, and you weren't about to trade it for some fancy penthouse.

You had met Max the year before in Las Vegas. F1 was a sport you watched with your uncle while he was still alive, and you were hell-bent on getting a VIP pass for the weekend. If you asked your boyfriend, he would say it was love at first sight, but in reality he was just annoyed by you. For a solid ten seconds, he would correct you every time you talked about it.

You agreed that you would hide in Max's apartment until this latest campaign died down, which gave you some time to spend together in peace. Every now and then you checked the tags to see how things were going, and after the silence of the past few days, today your name was trending again. Ready to have a good laugh, you opened the tag, but the most popular post gave you a minor stroke.

“Oh, fuck me,” you yelled as you launched your phone into the couch.

Max pulled the headset down to his neck as he looked over at you. “Is everything okay?” You raised your finger to your lips as if you wanted him to stay quiet, but luckily he got the message. “I'm muted. So?”

You grabbed your phone and went over to him. “They know. One of those idiots from the company I helped back in the day posted a tweet to protect me, saying that if it wasn't for me being an angel investor, they wouldn't be millionaires now,” you summarized as you gave him the device.

He scrolled through a series of tweets, and found a post from a journalist of Forbes in which he promised a proper investigative piece based on this info. He handed you the phone, then wrapped an arm around your waist. “It's okay, schatje. I know that's not what you wanted, but maybe they'll stop with the recurring hate campaign now,” he tried. “And if you’re worried about the article… Don’t be. There is nothing compromising about you. Yes, you inherited the money, but you have proven you know what to do with it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted with a sigh.

“I’m usually right. C’mere,” he said as he reached out to pull you closer, but you glanced over at the camera. Rolling his eyes, he quickly turned it off, then gave you an expectant look. “Will you hug me now? And I want a kiss too.”

With a laugh, you leaned down to wrap your arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss. But he wanted more, his hand slowly sneaked under your shorts, his fingers running over your clothed cunt before he decided to pull your panties aside and dip a finger between your folds. You moaned into the kiss, but he pulled away a second later to lick his finger clean.

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you patted his shoulder and walked back to the couch. You could feel Max’s eyes on you the whole time, and when you looked at him again, he flashed a devilish smile at you. “I should quit the stream. Now that I had a taste, I want more,” he told you.

“I’m not going anywhere, just try to be patient.”

He looked back at the screen, then put the headset back on his head and unmuted his mic. “Sorry, I have to go. See you next time,” he told the others, then logged out. You couldn’t remember the last time he left the sim rig this fast, and only a few seconds later he was kneeling in front of you, eagerly reaching up to pull your shorts off you.

liked by user1, user2 and 947,896 others

f1gossips: Breaking news! Turns out Max Verstappen's girlfriend isn't a gold digger after all as she has her own fortune according to the investigative article published by Forbes. Will the fans apologize?

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user2: And here I was, thinking she's just a greedy airhead...

user3: Easy to be wealthy with your uncle's money.

↳ user4: Have you read the whole thing? She invested the money and helped out several startups--that later became pretty successful--as an angel investor. Yes, maybe she inherited a lot of money, but she knows what to do with it.

↳ user5: May I remind you how many F1 drivers started their careers with their families's money?

user6: Told you she wasn't a gold digger. Suck it, haters.

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,577,353 others

maxverstappen1: If you don't buy your girlfriend gifts every once in a while, you're a bad boyfriend. I love to spoil her, it's not a crime. I love her, I'm proud of her, and you can send us as much hate as you want, it will only make us stronger.

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername: I'd be perfectly fine without the gifts, I already told you.

↳ maxverstappen1: I don't care.

landonorris: You're absolutely right!

↳ maxverstappen1: You're single, how would you know?

↳ landonorris: Just FYI, I've been in relationships before.

danielricciardo: You're so disgustingly smitten with her. (I love you both.)

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #before i get the question again this is a random cute pic that came up at the top in the google search #no i wasn't paying attention to skin color

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felibrary · 6 months ago

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cellphone love story — osamu dazai

*+ﾟsynopsis: recently, someone's been spam calling you to the point that you’re fed and pick up the phone, only to be greeted with someone by the name dazai who has been continuously trying to reach his dead friend. the calls however don't end here, rather, your (call) history with dazai starts to extend - slowly but surely forming a bond over time; the phone.

pairing: dazai x reader (gn) |wordcount: 2.5k (this was my personal hell) | content & warnings: fluff, mentions of odasaku and very very very small mention of chuuya, more than friends less than lovers at the end (can also be interpreted as lovers, but that's just what i had in mind yall), brief mentions of drinking, light angst if you squint, not proofread its 5 am yall…. ; oneshot

a/n: sorry that i havent posted anything in the past few days (eight days to be exact i think..) i hope this will somehow make it up :,)

you can't keep count anymore.

this is the third - no, maybe fourth time today the unknown number has called you. at some point they have to realize that they’ve gotten the wrong number, right?

it all started about one and a half weeks ago when you changed your phone number and received a new one. ever since that day someone has been continuously trying to call you. unfamiliar digits lit up on your screen as you were out with your friend, you ignored them, after all who were you to accept a call from an unknown number?

but, over the course of the evening the calls didn't stop, eerie and annoying ringtone constantly piercing through your ears until the calls took a halt at midnight. relief washing over you.

to your mishap the calls didn't stop there. sometimes they’d wake you up from a peaceful slumber, groggily pinching and rubbing your eyes before swiping the call away. other times your phone would ring at a work meeting where you had to awkwardly excuse yourself and turn off your phone.

admittedly, you're at fault for not blocking the number. all of your friends suggested that you should, reasoning it with the fact that the caller probably has some dirty schemes and motives and that you should just try and not get in touch with weird people like them.

which brings you to your current predicament, sitting on the couch with your favorite show playing in the background as you text a friend, until a certain but familiar series of digits show up on your phone screen. do they never know when to stop?

your fingers hover over the decline button and then over to the accept button, debating and contemplating if you should decline the call but you don’t. the pads of your fingers press down on the accept button and you wait.

you’re greeted with silence, what the hell? your patience runs thin, streaming like arid sand grains through an hourglass until they meet the bottom and gather there together with the others. it's been like thirty seconds into the call now, at this point they should've probably said something, at least a quiet hello. an exasperated sigh leaves your mouth and you begin “seriously? you’ve been calling me for the past week now and suddenly i pick up your calls you don’t say shit?” you complain.

“goodbye odasaku.” a sigh leaves the strangers mouth, a man you notice. “i suppose this is my sign to stop grieving and mourning over you.” his voice slightly quivers and the male chuckles sorrowfully. you can’t distinguish if it’s melancholy or relief that lace the bitter words.

you’re left with confusion, so many unanswered questions lie at the tip of your tongue but you don’t dare to utter a word. “apologies.” he speaks up once again, this time with a steadier voice. “you’re probably confused, my name is osamu dazai.” he politely introduces himself. even though you’re unable to see him and can’t see him nor his expression, your intuition tells you that he’s slightly grinning, that a ghost of a smile graces his lips, although a rather sad one.

“this phone number belonged to an old friend of mine.” dazai respires. a shaky “odasaku?” you whisper and let out a breath you yourself didn’t know you held in. “yeah, sakunosuke oda.” he hummed smilingly. “he’s gone.” dead, dazai wants to add but he refrains.

“his voicemail always played when i dialed his number and called.” he whispered. “it was pleasant to hear his voice, knowing that there are still fragments of odasaku out there. he understood me like no other, i miss him.” dazai meekly confessed in a hushed tone. “but those days are over, i suppose it’s for the better.” the male on the other line sighed.

an umpteen amount of words prickle on your tongue, they itch to be released and said, you wanted to say something - anything. but before you’re able to properly gather your words and form a sentence, dazai cuts you off.

“please excuse my intrusions in the past week. have a good rest.” a shrilling sound echoing through your living room symbolizes the end of the call and you’re left dumbfounded.

strident noises awake you from your sleep. you toss and turn in your sheets as you mindlessly try to find your phone, rolling over to lay on your side as you find it and tightly clutching it, gripping your phone as you’re greeted with a bright screen and a row of digits. dazais number, you realize.

no, you didn't save his number nor did you memorize in which order the digits were aligned but his phone number's unfamiliar digits have become quite familiar now. you check the time: 0.52 a.m. what was dazai doing at such time and why was he calling you out of all people? especially after he hung up on you a month ago.

“hello?” you groggily yawn. “ah.” a female voice on the other line yelps, she sounds relieved. “are you odasaku by any chance? could you pick up mr. dazai please?” the woman asks in a demure manner. “what’s the situation?” you rub your eyes, trying to stay awake. “well, mr. dazai is intoxicated - he’s drunk and is currently slumped over the counter.” she whispers into the phone.

“if that doesn’t bother you of course, i can also call someone else!” she hurriedly says. you're slipping out of your sheets to get out of your bed and move towards your hallway, loosely throwing over a thin jacket and checking its pocket if your car keys are in there. “it’s fine, can you tell me the location?” you tiredly ask. “yes of course. it’s bar lupin.” she replies. you check your phone and step outside your door moving towards your car “got it, i’ll be there in 20 minutes or so.” with that you end the call, get inside your car and put your hands on the steering wheel.

carefully you take a step inside the narrow bar, taking off your hood and immediately spotting dazai whose head was currently laying on the surface of the front bar. he was poking at his glass of whiskey, the ball of ice being almost fully melted. “dazai.” you call out. he turns around, hazel eyes meeting yours.

only then can you admire dazai for the first time. his dark brown is tousled and unkempt but it continues to gleam in the orange light. his arms are wrapped in bandages and there's a long beige, almost khaki, coat draped over his body. you can’t help but think that he’s kind of pretty.

“what are you doing here?” dazai asks in a fatigued tone. you show him your car keys and wag them in the air “here to pick you up.” you reply nonchalantly. “why?” his question is barely above a whisper.

why are you helping him? he doesn’t understand - he wishes to understand. the first impression you’ve received from dazai was when he was calling you non stop and now your second impression is him slumped over bar lupins front bar. dazai can’t tell if you’re just naive or really trying to be helpful out of politeness or rather out of kindness.

a certain kindness he’s only ever received from odasaku. helping someone like him out of kindness with no hidden intentions, offering a helping hand, smiling with utmost fondness.

“as if im leaving a somewhat nice drunkard alone. i’m not inhumane.” even though your answers are full of nonchalance, dazai can make out a certain sincerity that lies in your words.

his eyes can only follow as you tilt your head towards the door. “let's get you back home.” you gently smile.

dazai wakes up to the sound of birds chirping and sizzling oil. he’s warm, a soft blanket covering his body only then dazai realizes that this isn’t his bed, that he’s not lying in his futon. he looks around before his gaze lands on the bedside table which had a glass of water atop it, marked with a little sticky note that said “drink this, you’ll feel much better and come find me in the kitchen :)”

he can’t recall everything that happened yesterday, it all went past him like a blur the only thing he remembered was that you came to pick him up. dazai grabbed the glass and gulped it down in one go, some of its content seeping down his chin and wiping it away with his sleeve before sliding out of the bed with the glass in his hand to return it to you.

finding your kitchen wasn’t hard, it was located right next to the dining room where a variety of dishes were placed on the dining table. dazai enters the kitchen, without you noticing and sees you whisking up two eggs with a pair of chopsticks before speaking up “here.” dazai coughs and places the glass on the counter near the sink to express his gratitude.

“oh, it’s no problem.” you shoot him a small smile. your hand reaches over to the salt and pepper to season the eggs with before carefully putting the egg mixture into the hot greased pan. admittedly dazai feels a bit out of place - useless (when was he ever not) so he offers to wash your dishes which you happily agreed to.

besides the sound of sizzling fat and water running down the faucet, it's quiet in your kitchen. “how’d she know whom to call?” you’re the first to speak up, eyes still concentrated on frying the eggs as you hum a small melody.

“the bartendress?” dazai asks in response.

“yeah.”

“well, odasaku’s number, which is your number now, is one of my emergency contacts, i suppose she just called you first.” dazai shrugs his shoulders, his hands still focused on rubbing away the dirty spots on your plates.

“i see.”

“if the old man, my favourite bartender by the way." dazai winks. "if he would’ve been here he would’ve called slug.” dazai lets out a small laugh, probably the most sincere laugh he let out in the past few weeks.

“slug” you ask, soft voice laced with confusion.

“an old friend of mine.” dazai smiles sadly. “odasaku and him are both my emergency contacts.” he chuckles.

dazai doesn’t talk about the topic much further and neither do you, assuming it’s a sensitive topic for him. “i’m done, how about you?” you look over to dazai who’s currently washing his hands off with lavender soap. “mhm, me too.” he hums in agreement at which you can smile at.

dazais eyes trail after you as you leave the kitchen and move to the dining room, setting down all the plates and pouring two glasses of water. “sit down and eat up.” your eyes sway from his eyes over to the chairs. only then does dazai notice that his beige coat is neatly folded on one of your dining chairs. it makes his heart jump lightly.

he sits down and takes a sip out of his glass, waiting until you start to eat first before he gets to. he smiles contently as you happily chew on your food. “does it taste good?” he cringes at himself when he realizes just how awkward that question is, he feels like a teenager again that was always wary of what people thought of him.

“it tastes amazing! wanna try?” you slide the plate over to dazai, offering him to take a piece. “sure.” he agrees before taking a small bite. you weren’t lying when you said that it tasted amazing. “you're right, it tastes so good.” dazai says ecstatically. “told you so! my cooking is not to be underestimated.” you laugh and dazai can’t help but laugh too which makes him cough uncontrollably, putting a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t spit out anything on your table cloth but continuing to laugh.

“oh god dazai, are you okay?” you rush over to his aid and put your hand over his back to slide over it, hoping that it’ll somehow soothe his coughing. dazai manages to muffle out a “i’m fine, really.” between his coughs and laughs which you can only sigh at but can’t help the smile that finds its way onto your face and plasters itself on your lips.

calls with dazai have become more frequent now, although he sometimes still remains a mystery to you, it feels like he’s grown quite comfortable around you.

he told you more about himself (vice versa), talks about his work at the armed detective agency and sends you recipes the both of you could recreate. not only calls with him became more frequent but also visits.

at least four out of seven times a week dazai rushes to your place after work (you should probably call it your shared home now due to dazai leaving his stuff at your place like scattered objects on the floor).

for example, today: dazai walks into your kitchen like he owns the place. he sets down his belongings onto your couch before stepping towards the kitchen where he already finds you chopping the vegetables for the curry.

he notices that you’re on the verge of tearing up as you continuously chop the onions into small bits and grabs a tissue before sneaking up behind you and scaring you. “boo.” his mouth forms a little “o” and you slightly jump before setting the knife down and putting your hand over your heart. “you scared me!” you complain even though dazai can see the playful glint in your eyes.

“sorry, sorry.” he laughs before wiping away the small droplets of tears that managed to escape your eyes.

his calloused hands brush over your soft skin, it’s intimate - romantic even. you softly sigh against the tissue, the object that separates the two of you. the action makes your face lightly heat up and you’re sure that dazai noticed it too from the way he’s smirking.

“aw, was i able to fluster you?” he coos at you smilingly, which in response you can only huff at, eyeing him with a look that says ��you already know the answer.” before turning around to continue where you left off.

in the meantime dazai pulls out another cutting board and starts to chop the carrots. it’s quiet, it’s always quiet when the two of you cook together, but neither you nor dazai mind. the smell of aromatics that nip and continue to linger in the air and the sound of your jazz playlist which sometimes gets outplayed by the sounds of cutting or frying food, are more than enough. it’s just like the first time the two of you shared this space together, a certain nostalgia suddenly washing over him.

“thank you” he whispers, barely loud enough to not get overplayed by the music playing in the background.

“for what?” you ask, longing for an answer.

for the times you’ve picked me up at bar lupin, for the times you’ve cooked me warm meals, for the times when you took care of me.

“for everything.”

this is dedicated to my odasaku person @azullumi (don't die pls i need u and ur fics HHDDISISISIS). you've always told me that you liked odasaku a lot and that some day you also want to open up an orphanage which i find really endearing. what i mean by "you're my odasaku person" is not "wow we're literally so odasaku and dazai coded" but no rather it's because you also play such a major role in my life (not just cause of the age gap between oda and dazai and u and me..). you're always there when i need you, you're always there when i needed you and i hope that you'll always be there when i need you. but the same thing goes vice versa; goes for me. azul you're someone whom i've randomly met and if i never made that one comment or sent that one ask or if you never sent that one dm i would've never written this. you're someone who reassures me and soothes my worries with simple words, when i'm feeling down you're the person i turn to because you're the only person who really understands and somehow relates and thus i'm always able to trust and follow your judgement and advice. i never feel judged or belittled by you or treated as someone whose only an immature kid, no you treat me as a normal person, like a friend. which makes me feel seen - acknowledged even. to be loved is to be seen. i could go hours when it comes about talking to you and what impact you have on my life, but i suppose that's for another end note dsjsdsuusus. you're so dear to me. i love you a lot azul <3

#felis staple of books ⋆·˚ ༘ *#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs fluff #bsd fluff #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs imagines #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai fluff #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu

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oracle-of-dream · 8 months ago

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Love 119

Summary: Your best friend Anton has been working on a song project and is dying to share it with you!

Warnings: Male POV, SFW, Kissing, Fluff

Wordcount: 2.1k

It was early, like really, when you woke up. The sun wasn't even up yet, but your desk vibrated rhythmically. It was the third time it had done this. You were okay ignoring it at first, but it didn't seem like it would stop. You looked over at your phone on the desk, lighting up as it shook.

You sighed, rolled out of bed, and answered the phone, "Hello?"

"Y/n! Thank god you answered!" You heard Anton's voice and immediately hung up.

A few seconds later, he called again. "Don't hang up on me!"

"Don't call me at four in the morning! You have ten seconds before I hang up and block you," You yelled into the phone.

"You remember that song I've been working on? I think the song is ready!"

"So?"

"So!? So, you've gotta hear it!"

You rubbed your eyes," Why can't you just post it or send it, and I'll listen to it in the morning?"

"No way, you've gotta come here and listen to it in person. I want to see your face for an honest reaction."

"The trains aren't even running this early..."

"You can drive!"

"Nope."

"Uber?"

"No."

"Bike?"

"You must want me to hang up–"

"Please don't..."

"This will wait until the morning. I promise. I'll come see you first thing in the morning," You started walking back to your bed.

Anton seemed hesitant but sighed, "Okay, but I mean it. First thing! It's super important."

"Yeah, yeah, goodnight," You hung up the phone as you flopped back into bed. You drifted off to sleep, your phone still in hand.

In the daylight, you started getting dressed. A beanie and coat for the cold weather, headphones for the train, and a snack. For your tummy.

You were surprised Anton wasn't blowing up your phone like usual. Almost every morning, Anton would blow your phone up as he waited for you to meet him to go to school together. Since it was a weekend– Anton usually worked on music during the day but must've stayed up all night working on his song. He'd mentioned a project ages ago about a song, but that didn't tell you much about it. He was getting super in the dumps recently, almost depressed. Staying in, skipping class, and not hanging out with you as much. He wasn't usually so secretive and distant, so the song must've meant something special to him.

The train was cold but less crowded than usual– you could sit today. The ride to Anton's house took about 45 minutes. You set an alarm on your phone for 43 minutes, put on your headphones, and close your eyes. You couldn't help but wonder what the song was about.

A ballad? But Anton liked hip-hop styles, especially from his time traveling, so maybe that. About what thought?

Most hip-hop was about sex, drugs, or money. Anything else has some deep meaning hidden in the lyrics. Anton was the kind of guy to think of deep lyrics like that, so that makes sense for him to go for that. But what kind of message would he aim for?

You wracked your brain the whole time, not sleeping like planned.

The train stopped at its fourth stop, and you got off. The platform was almost empty in the cold morning. You could see your breath as you texted Anton.

YN: Did you not come to get me?

YN: Hello?

YN: No way you're still sleeping! After you woke me up so early!?

You started calling him as you walked away from the train platform, headed to his house. Anton had the nerve to wake you up in the middle of the night and demand you see him but not get you from the train station in the morning. He always came to meet you. You started getting nervous. You should've driven over when he called. Why could he not be answering?

You called him several times, but there was no answer, no text.

The nerves in your feet stung as you walked– more like fast-walked to Anton's house.

He had to be okay, right? He said he was fine seeing you in the morning– there's no way he'd be upset at you for this. Did the song matter that much?

Before you realized it, you were running toward his place. Your coat was open, and your beanie was in your hand. The cold bit at your ears and messed with your hair, and your eyes were dry, but tears were still at the edge of your eyes.

Anton had to be okay.

Finally, you reached his home. You knew the passcode to his door, so you opened it yourself. The house was warm inside, with light spilling in from the windows. It was quiet and still. Anton's house slippers were by the door.

Did he leave home? Where the hell could he go!?

You turned and ran back out the door, phone to your ear, as you called him again.

Fuck! No response.

You turned down the street and moved toward the cafe. Anton loved going there when he needed to get out of his room. You thought about the hours you'd spent there with him.

I should've been there for him.

Inside the cafe, it was quietly playing R&B. It was one of the songs Anton had shown you, Snooze by SZA.

The owner noticed you come in and the expression on your face, "Y/n? Something wrong?"

"I'm looking for Anton. He's not at home," You approached the counter.

"He stopped by here earlier for coffee. He’d been by a lot recently for double espressos. It doesn't look like he'd been sleeping recently, with the amount of dark circles he had."

Your eyes widened, "Do you know where he headed?"

"No, he mentioned something about the music shop," The owner nodded.

"I'll keep looking!" You ran out the door. Your legs were tired, and your lungs were working overtime, but you just had a feeling Anton needed you.

Where did you go, Anton?

You walked around town, lost and in a daze. You checked all of Anton’s favorite spots, and each place gave an idea that he was somewhere else. You barely missed him every time.

At the convenience store, the owner said, "He mentioned he'd left something at school. Maybe he's taking the train to go there. It should be around real soon."

Your chest heaved, and it hurt to breathe, but you kept running. The train was your best bet since it was on a schedule. When you reached the platform, a train was already waiting.

You ran onboard, looking around, just as you looked out the window.

Standing on the platform in a black coat, Anton looked around as people got off the train. His stupid brown hair blew in his face.

You jumped out of your seat and slipped between the doors as they were closing. One of the train officials yelled out to you, but you ignored them as you ran to Anton.

Anton turned to see you with an awkward smile—a cup of coffee in his hands.

You almost tackled him with how hard you slammed into him. "Jesus, you idiot, don't worry me like that," You hugged him.

"I-I worried you?"

"Yeah! Do you ever check your phone!?"

Anton checked his pockets, "I– where's my phone!?" He patted his pockets before realizing he didn't have it, "I'm so sorry, y/n."

"Whatever!" You pushed past him, storming toward his house.

Anton hurried after you, "Please don't be mad."

"It's too late! I ran all around the area looking for you! This song better be worth it!"

"It is. I know you'll like it," Anton smiled awkwardly at you.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll hate it, and you've wasted all your time."

"Don't say that! You haven't heard it."

"I hate it already– my ears hurt just thinking about it."

Anton suddenly got quiet. He was usually fine when you jabbed at him, but his silence spoke volumes.

"Hey– I'm kidding. I don't hate it. I was just worried, okay?"

Anton nodded softly, focusing on his coffee as you walked the rest of the way silently.

Anton led the way into the house, "can you wait downstairs for a second?"

"Is your room messy?" You raised an eyebrow, "I've seen it messy."

"Please," Anton said with a hard-to-read expression.

Your jaw locked up at his serious tone. You nodded, "Yeah, I'll stay put."

Anton went upstairs to his room, leaving you downstairs with your thoughts.

Is he the one who's mad here? I should be the mad one, not him!

Anton came downstairs, missing his coat, which revealed a white turtleneck, "Come on, it's ready."

You slipped off your coat and followed him slowly up the stairs. The mood was tense, but you couldn't get why.

Right before entering his room, Anton stopped you. "Put this on," He presented a blindfold.

"Really?"

"Trust me, please."

You decided not to argue and let him tie it around your head. He took you by the hand and led you into the room. He sat you down on the bed, and you could hear him moving some things around the room. There was a faint smell of smoke.

"What's going on, Anton?"

Anton touched your hand, "I made this song to show my feelings. I want you to listen to it fully. I named it, Love 119."

He played the song. It wasn't exactly what you expected from a love song, but the lyrics were deep. You could tell her put in a lot of effort, and he must've had his friends help him with the vocals.

In the end, Anton let go of you and moved, "Take off your blindfold."

You slipped it off to see Anton kneeling with a cake with candles. His face was pinkish as he looked up at you, "Y/n, will you be my boyfriend?"

The words echoed in the room just once. Time froze. You were looking into his eyes as he nervously smiled at you.

He'd prepared the song for you. All those sleepless nights, missing school, the distance. All to find a way to make this song for you without you finding out.

Tears ran down your face, "Is this where you went?"

Anton nodded, "I asked everyone for help to keep you busy so I could set up."

You took a better look around the room. There were records wrapped with bows, a mug with your name on it– with coffee in it, and decorations all over.

"This is all for me?"

Anton nodded, "You're the most special person in the world to me, and I want to spend it with you. Together. If you want that..." He put the cake up to you.

You leaned down and blew out the candles, "I will be your boyfriend!"

Anton set down the cake and pulled a small box out of his pocket.

"Are you about to propose at the same time?" You joked.

But Anton opened the box, presenting two silver rings.

You jumped to your feet, "Anton! I– We– Marriage!?"

He stood up, "No, no! It's just a promise ring!"

You smiled, "Why in the world would we need those?"

"To show you I'm serious about you? My Dad said that's what he and my mom had."

You sighed, laughing more, "You're ridiculous. Give me a ring."

"But, I want to put it on you."

"It's for me to put yours on your finger, silly. There's two rings, aren't there?"

Anton handed you one of the rings as he took the other one. You presented a hand to each other and slipped on the rings.

Anton held your hand, admiring the ring on you, "And now, you're mine."

"And you're mine," You giggled, leaning close to him.

Anton looked briefly at your lips, thinking for a moment before getting anxious. "W-We should have cake!" He moved to grab a slice.

"Anton?"

He turned to see you closer than before, making him lean away from you, "Y-Yes?"

"Most couples start with a kiss, right?"

"A kiss!?" Anton's eyes were wide, but he was too nervous to take the first step.

You leaned into him, making him back up until he fell back-first onto the bed. You leaped onto him, pinning him there, "I've got you."

Anton closed his eyes, "I-I wanted to be the one to kiss you."

Your boyfriend was adorable, even when being childish. You rolled over, pulling him on top of you, pinned under his weight, "Then kiss me."

Anton nervously licked his lips before gently bringing them down to yours. The kiss was warm and soft, tasting faintly of coffee. Anton pressed his lips into yours passionately as his hands locked with yours.

Anton’s lips were red, and he blushed more, "I hope I'm not too bad at this. You're my first kiss."

"It's fine, now we can eat cake," You pecked his lips as he slid off you. You enjoyed the day together, eating cake and listening to his song.

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #anton riize #riize anton #riize x reader #riize #riize imagines #anton x reader #x male reader #x male y/n

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quotesfrommyreading · 1 year ago

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Much of the public discussion of Ukraine reveals a tendency to patronize that country and others that escaped Russian rule. As Toomas Ilves, a former president of Estonia, acidly observed, “When I was at university in the mid-1970s, no one referred to Germany as ‘the former Third Reich.’ And yet today, more than 30 years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, we keep on being referred to as ‘former Soviet bloc countries.’” Tropes about Ukrainian corruption abound, not without reason—but one may also legitimately ask why so many members of Congress enter the House or Senate with modest means and leave as multimillionaires, or why the children of U.S. presidents make fortunes off foreign countries, or, for that matter, why building in New York City is so infernally expensive.

The latest, richest example of Western condescension came in a report by German military intelligence that complains that although the Ukrainians are good students in their training courses, they are not following Western doctrine and, worse, are promoting officers on the basis of combat experience rather than theoretical knowledge. Similar, if less cutting, views have leaked out of the Pentagon.

Criticism by the German military of any country’s combat performance may be taken with a grain of salt. After all, the Bundeswehr has not seen serious combat in nearly eight decades. In Afghanistan, Germany was notorious for having considerably fewer than 10 percent of its thousands of in-country troops outside the wire of its forward operating bases at any time. One might further observe that when, long ago, the German army did fight wars, it, too, tended to promote experienced and successful combat leaders, as wartime armies usually do.

American complaints about the pace of Ukraine’s counteroffensive and its failure to achieve rapid breakthroughs are similarly misplaced. The Ukrainians indeed received a diverse array of tanks and armored vehicles, but they have far less mine-clearing equipment than they need. They tried doing it our way—attempting to pierce dense Russian defenses and break out into open territory—and paid a price. After 10 days they decided to take a different approach, more careful and incremental, and better suited to their own capabilities (particularly their precision long-range weapons) and the challenge they faced. That is, by historical standards, fast adaptation. By contrast, the United States Army took a good four years to develop an operational approach to counterinsurgency in Iraq that yielded success in defeating the remnants of the Baathist regime and al-Qaeda-oriented terrorists.

A besetting sin of big militaries, particularly America’s, is to think that their way is either the best way or the only way. As a result of this assumption, the United States builds inferior, mirror-image militaries in smaller allies facing insurgency or external threat. These forces tend to fail because they are unsuited to their environment or simply lack the resources that the U.S. military possesses in plenty. The Vietnamese and, later, the Afghan armies are good examples of this tendency—and Washington’s postwar bad-mouthing of its slaughtered clients, rather than critical self-examination of what it set them up for, is reprehensible.

The Ukrainians are now fighting a slow, patient war in which they are dismantling Russian artillery, ammunition depots, and command posts without weapons such as American ATACMS and German Taurus missiles that would make this sensible approach faster and more effective. They know far more about fighting Russians than anyone in any Western military knows, and they are experiencing a combat environment that no Western military has encountered since World War II. Modesty, never an American strong suit, is in order.

— Western Diplomats Need to Stop Whining About Ukraine

#eliot a. cohen #current events #politics #ukrainian politics #american politics #warfare #strategy #tactics #diplomacy #russo-ukrainian war #2022 russian invasion of ukraine #war in afghanistan #vietnam war #ukraine #usa #toomas hendrik ilves

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tiredtxmblrvet · 9 months ago

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Fic Rec Friday #3!

If y'all want more fic rec fridays, check out @mediumgayitalian

Below are 5 fics I've enjoyed this past week/recently.

shake the glitter off your clothes now by @rosyredlipstick

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373892

Summary:

Nico has just woken up hungover in a strange Vegas hotel room missing 3 things: - His phone and wallet, apparently. - His dignity, lost somewhere on the strip. - Any clear memory of the night before explaining the aforementioned situation. However, he has gained a few things—mainly, the ring on his finger and the man in this bathtub. - "Fucking Vegas," Nico said, rubbing at his face.

No, I will not stop rec'ing Rosy's fics, what can I say. Also I just copy and paste this post every week and it satisfies my autistic brain to keep authors in the same place. Anyways! This is a short one-shot where Solangelo end up married in Vegas, it's incredible cute and I eat this trope up every time.

third drawer down by summerset

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43030752

Summary:

After the battle, Nico needs a tether to the earth so he doesn’t fade to nothingness. Will volunteers.

Loved this take on the "3 days in the infirmary" trope !! This is a little one-shot where Will glows and "tethers" Nico to the physical world and they have to cuddle and it's just adorable.

can't you see, i'm losing my mind this time? by rabbit_soup

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38765766

Summary:

“You’ve got micro-pieces of glass in your skin, and I can’t in my right mind let that stuff just fester in there.”

“Glass…? Where—?” He racked his brain, slowly glancing up at Will. He didn’t remember breaking any glass on the quest.

“Strangest thing,” Will said, pulling an orange container out of the box. On its side, it read Arm and Hammer, Baking Soda in thick white lettering. “Both Annabeth and Percy swung by a few minutes ago, talking about the exact same thing—glass in their hands! The both of ‘em! Isn’t that interesting?”

The glass beaches in Tartarus...Nico thought.

Me, rec'ing two "3 days in the infirmary" fics in one post? It's more likely than you think.

I've read this fic multiple times, and I love it more every time I read it. Nico is disabled and uses a cane, and Will has hearing aids. How the two of them dance around each other is lovely to read, and I'm a sucker for a good "will calms Nico down from a panic attack" fic and boy does this deliver. Also once again Nico and Will are autistic in this which makes me very happy !! Also it's a series and I love the hurt/comfort in the following one-shots after this fic.

The Legacy of Jason Grace by HPbooks4life

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47979301

Summary:

Nico felt it when Jason died.

The problem is, he can't STOP feeling it.

But maybe, with a little help from his friends, he can learn to feel it less.

Short one-shot character study on how Nico reacted to Jason's death and his journey with dealing with that grief. As someone struggling with grief myself I really resonated with this portrayal. This is definitely more of a Nico character study than a solangelo fic though fyi.

cradle my heart in the palm of your hand by ghosttotheparty

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45734695

Summary:

“I can keep you warm,” he whispers. “If you want.”

Nico’s lips curve into a small smile.

“Yes, please.”

or; Nico wants to be touched, is scared of it. But he’s not scared of Will.

Once again, I am in love with how ghosttotheparty writes intimacy, and I have re-read this one-shot multiple times. It just fills my heart with warmth when I read it tbh.

Okay that's all! I'll probably keep doing this until I run out of fics to recommend. Have a good friday lovelies!

#percy jackson #solangelo #nico di angelo #percy jackon and the olympians #will solace #pjo #solangelo fic recs #fic rec #pjo hoo toa #hoo #jason grace #heroes of olympus

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arlecchno · 1 year ago

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everything has changed (alhaitham x gn!reader)

ONE. i just wanna know you better

masterlist next

SUMMARY - alhaitham was positive that he was not worthy of anyone's love, nor was anyone worthy of his. but after bumping into you on a random wednesday morning, he was ought to be wrong in many ways. also; in which you attempt on asking alhaitham out a grand total of three times; three different ways, three different places, and three different situations, in hopes of him reciprocating your so called love— people do say that third time's the charm, right?

A/N - i have delayed this for far too long. i have maybe slept while editing this draft for around 4 times. i was supposed to post this last week. forgive me pls

“three times.”

“pardon?”

you smiled at the gray-haired man at his desk, holding up three fingers as you repeated yourself once more. “i'll only ask you out three times, and if you decline all three of them, i won't ever bother you again. you can trust me on that.”

if there's one thing about you that alhaitham could describe, it's that you are… maybe a tad bit weird.

no, scratch that, you're insanely weird.

it's silly, he thinks. you're a well-known and respected scholar slash biologist from the amurta darshan. there's no one in the akademiya who doesn't know you, not when you're widely known for your eccentric researches and experiments. no, alhaitham definitely did not look into your work profile after that little incident. and even if he did, it was purely for work purposes, he was mainly doing his duty to report about it to the higher ups, lest he craves punishment or a lecture from grand sage azar.

anyway, frankly speaking, you should be professional, at the very least. hell, you have a doctorate. the title itself should be written all over you.

so why are you speaking to him like… well, he doesn't know. like you're a fool? a desperate moron in love? whatever it is, it's anything but professional to him.

see, this all started due to that sudden incident from a few weeks ago.

nothing ever beats the rush hour in the akademiya on a wonderful wednesday morning, it seems.

as a full time worker at the prestigious institute, it was just another day for you and your overworked colleagues. however, getting errands done during this time around would be a death wish, everyone within the akademiya walls knew of that, and of course, you do too.

yet it seemed like you had just dug your own grave.

honestly— who wouldn't? you needed to head over to your lab immediately, the specimens in the crate you were currently carrying needed to be experimented on within the fifteen minute timeline you had mentally set up in your head, so it was obvious that you had no time to lose.

and to speak; the crowds in the house of daena honestly weren't that bad— maybe a little less spacious than usual, but still merely nothing for an experienced scholar like you. see, that's what you had initially thought before getting back to your private lab.

you just need to head on over to the biology section of the house of daena to retrieve a book titled ‘fungi and its extraordinary lives’, and you'll be set to continue conducting your ongoing research project. look— you did think of snatching the book way earlier before you even set out on an adventure of getting your crate of supplies, but it would've been too much work for you to go back and forth from your lab, as it was already close to the house of daena.

you figured it was best to do it on your way back instead, which, in full honesty— was not even a bad idea. it was just that things just had to escalate a whole lot differently than you had intended to.

see— your first mistake was keeping your eyes busy on your task instead of what's in front of you. which, in another sense, is what any other normal person would do. well, you know your way around the akademiya like the back of your hand. the shortcuts to aisle number thirty-six in the house of daena, the bathroom to the end of the hall on floor two, the shortest route to the archive room of the akademiya, you name it. so you thought you could just waltz your way through the library easily. again, your first mistake.

your second mistake was that you were clearly doing anything but walking, understandably so. you're well aware of the akademiya rules: no running in the institution, no careless mistakes, no idle chit chat and gossip— among many others. right, the handbooks weren't a stranger to you. there was even a point in your life where you were forced to memorise it from a to z by one of your professors because you were unfortunate enough to have unintentionally broken one of the many minuscule rules that one time, which in your opinion was quite the torture for a mere student like you back then. you may or may not still hold a grudge against the said professor.

as you were double checking your to-do list with a pencil and piece of paper on your beloved crate, you hadn't realized that you were walking towards someone. okay, maybe the correct word for your actions right now would be sprinting, but you'd hate to admit that you were in the wrong.

now, this is your last mistake. the person that is about to bump into you is not a mere scholar, whom you can't just apologize to once or a few more times and move on with your day.

next thing you knew, you collided into the person's chest that was so hard it felt you just crashed into a wall, and much to your dismay, caused you to harshly fall on the pristine floors from the impact, along with your precious, precious crate, which is now most likely a lost cause as your specimens and other important stuff you had worked so hard to look for earlier were all over you and the extravagant floors of the house of daena. disgusting, you know, but that was the least of your worries right now.

as if that wasn't already downright embarrassing enough, you're now covered in gooey fungi, you have totally made a fool out of yourself, and all eyes are currently on you, scholars and students alike whispering amongst themselves at the scene they were witnessing. a monstrosity, truly.

you were sure that you'd be the main topic of gossip for at least a week. maybe two weeks at best.

the house of daena was silent, with only the chit and chatter amongst the scholars as an exception. at first sight, you wondered why everyone would pay so much attention to you instead of continuing on with what they were doing just a fleeting second ago. surely this happens in the akademiya at least once, no?

you've made two revelations to this; one, you were so ungodly hideous that everyone just had to stare. or two, you had probably just bumped into some hot-shot akademiyan.

of course, the first thing any sane person would do is look up to the perpetrator who had cause you this much damage. (it was your fault to begin with.)

so you did.

and of course any normal person who had just been bumped into would have thought of the same thing: have every reason to be angry at the person who bumped into you, whether they were in the wrong or not.

so it was only natural that you too, had the same thought in mind.

but the second you laid your eyes on him, it's as if the whole world stopped, and you finally understand why everyone was so adamant on just standing there and whispering about your little incident instead of helping you out like any decent human being would. and the latter of your revelation was definitely on spot. you would've done a victory dance if you were in any other situation except this.

because the person you had just bump into is none other than the scribe of the akademiya, the one and only, alhaitham.

you've heard of him a few times— apparently he's quite the reserved man, yet would not hesitate to call you out on your wrongdoings or foolish mistakes. well, that's what you heard anyway; as a mere worker who is trying to make ends meet, you are in no position to judge people based on what your fellow juniors run their mouths about these days.

for as long as you've been both an alum and full-time employee at the akademiya, it's truly a wonder that you've never actually seen the scribe in person. right, that's also what you've heard people say— that the scribe can hardly be spotted, nor can he be found easily to begin with. he's never in his office, and it's not often that you'd find him within the akademiya walls; the man is anywhere but at his working place, and somehow gets away with it because he's the scribe, whose presence is not of importance unless he deems so.

and if you are granted the position to say this; it is mainly because the higher ups of the akademiya takes great pride in their respected positions, so it is not a shocker that someone with an official title like grand scribe can frequently get away with such things.

egocentric, blunt, unambitious and many more— those are the few descriptions you've heard over the past few years from scholars about the scribe.

but out of all of the mysterious things you've miraculously heard about the man, you've never seen or heard people point out how attractive he is.

how could they not? he’s got a broad frame that could actually knock the breath out of you (which in this case, quite literally did knock you down), a set of clothes that somehow just screams him, despite the fact that you know next to nothing about the guy, tuft of gray hair that bounces graciously and looks luscious enough it makes you envious how he even manages to take such great care of it, and lastly, a pair of turquoise eyes that looked like an oasis from the sumeru desert, one you could just stare into forever, ever and ever.

this man is a whole package.

it was like the gods had granted you the perfect opportunity to present yourself in front of an attractive man, like the gods have finally decided to fill a bit of colour into your hopeless romantic and workaholic life, and gave you this blessing— except for the fact that this, this might be the most embarrassing way possible in doing so.

oh how you want the ground to swallow you up right now.

after what seemed like forever (it was less than thirty seconds), the man of the hour finally speaks, startling you with his voice. “would you rather sit down there like a fool or will you stand up?” ouch. maybe it's safe to say that at least one of the things people say about him are, in fact, true.

you blinked, once, twice, before you could pick up on what what he said and hurriedly stand up, glass jars of your specimens that were previously all over you clinking to the floor a little too loud, some already having been broken and shattered, but you could care less when the man in front of you was currently glaring at you like you have committed one of the six cardinal sins.

before he could even jab you more with his next few blunt words, you decided to bow down to a complete ninety-degree and started profusely apologizing, all previous thoughts of wanting to blame everything on him for ruining your prolonged experiment were thrown out the window (again, it is your fault in the first place.)

sure, this might hurt your pride and ego, but you'd rather do this than having the possibility of listening to the scribe giving you a lifelong lecture on the basic rules of the akademiya, or yet even worse, you get sent to the grand sage and have your doctorate and title revoked for being unprofessional, unethical, or whatever nonsense grand sage azar would demote you for. call yourself dramatic and insane, but you'd rather not inflict any chances of ending up humiliated or jobless. or both.

a beat passes, and you're still mumbling out apologies, causing alhaitham to clear his throat in order to cut you off.

“you… you can stand upright now,” he said, and it takes you another few seconds before you reluctantly do as he says, and the first thing you see is him looking at you with a puzzled expression plastered on his face.

“i apologize once again, scribe. it was my fault, i wasn't looking,” you looked down as you spoke, staring at your ruined materials on the white tiles.

alhaitham all but sighs, and tells you to look where you're going next time. you couldn't help but only nod, not even glancing at him once out of embarrassment. “you are fully aware of the akademiya rules, are you not? act one-o-three; no running in the institution unless–”

“–an emergency occurs, or and if ordered to by either of the six sages, grand sage included,” you finished his sentence with the slight of an eye roll, before remembering that this was the scribe, not your annoying biology professor who countlessly had you memorise the five-hundred-page worth of akademiya rules. truthfully, there was no need for a teaching institution to have that many rules.

then, he prompts another question: “do you perhaps need any help…” he seemed to have trailed off, and you flickered your eyes to him just for a fleeting second to see what he was doing. “amurta scholar?” he finished his question as he stared at your lab coat, a small badge to your left with the amurta logo pinned on it, indicating which darshan you are from.

“uh… no– it's alright,” you say sheepishly as you quickly crouched down, already starting to pick up your glass jars and whatnot. “you should get going, scribe. you must have a lot of work to do here in the akademiya.”

alhaitham could only nod as you tell him that, not even minding the fact that you were not able to see him as of the moment. he merely tells you to watch where you're going next time and starts to walk away; which in your opinion was maybe just a tad bit rude— the least he could do was help you out. but knowing him, as per what people talk about, that'd be nigh impossible. also, you did say that you didn't need any help, so you couldn't blame him per se. honestly, if you were in his shoes you'd probably have done the same.

so you hurriedly finished cleaning up your mess and ran to your lab, all in your splattered–with–gooey–fungi glory. as you sighed behind closed doors, you prayed to the gods above that your project would go smoothly and peacefully. fingers crossed.

well, maybe after yet another exhausting trip to the avidya forest for another set of fungi, that is.

but of course, it was only wishful thinking, there's not a lot to hope for when alhaitham pretty much occupied your mind the whole day. it has even gotten to the point where your fellow juniors had to snap you out of your daydream so that you could actually focus on your research.

sure, call yourself a hopeless romantic (maybe a crazy lunatic in this case), but who wouldn't fall for him at first sight? and who the hell cares about the things scholars gossip about him? a man with that sort of pretty privilege could run over your toe and you would gracefully thank him for it.

and, point in case— alhaitham isn't that bad. okay, sure, maybe a little too blunt and too uncaring for his own good, but he is not as bad as people make him seem.

maybe you should get to know alhaitham more, right? not because you're interested in him (you are, but that could be pushed aside for now), you merely want to debunk the bad rumors about him going around (they aren't even half as bad, just highly exaggerated and overall childish) and make sure that everyone knows that alhaitham is not just the egocentric and arrogant guy people always see (he probably is just exactly that, but it's worth the try).

you firmly believe there's more to the scribe than what meets the eye.

so, you make it your mission and goal to get to know alhaitham better, even if it may be the worst idea possible.

spoilers: it absolutely is the worst idea possible.

after the minor incident you had, you tried your very best to encounter him during work hours, which honestly wasn't as challenging as you thought it was. sure, he's not around much, but after maybe a week or so of hanging around the house of daena (stalking would be the ideal word you're looking for), you finally got to know his routine— well, only for when he's around the humongous library, but that will suffice for now.

evidently, alhaitham would only visit the house of daena on wednesdays, and weirdly on saturdays, at ten in the morning sharp. for what reason you quite have no clue, but he's frequently around the linguistics section, reading a book or two about ancient runes and that sort of stuff, sometimes even seen squabbling with a certain architect from the kshahrewar darshan too. you don't know kaveh much— but apparently he's acquainted with alhaitham, of all people.

but now that you know a part of his routine, you can probably catch the opportunity to get to know him. so ever since then, you have been, quote unquote, “bumping„ into him nonstop.

the first few times you bumped into him, you had greeted him a couple of times, and after a bit of coaxing, you somehow managed to drag him into small talk. you've even gotten to the point where you're asking him when he's free— reason why? of course, you just want to take him out for a bit during lunch break to make up for the incident you two had just a few weeks ago, definitely no ulterior motives whatsoever; which unfortunately, alhaitham kept declining because he quotes that “it would be a waste of time,” and that “things should just be left in the past.”

but that clearly didn’t stop you from trying, again and again. your guardians clearly didn't raise a quitter.

one thing you did find out about alhaitham after a few conversations with him is that the man is anything but fond of small talk, which was expected. and after countless attempts on trying to get him into one, you eventually had to go on a different route to get his attention.

so, here you are now, somehow having managed to reach your way to his office— and miraculously enough, alhaitham just so happens to also be present at the time, which gives you the perfect opportunity to raise the deal that has been dying to escape from your throat.

look— there's no denying that you are here for work purposes; you were requesting for one of your documentations to be cited and reviewed, and although alhaitham is mainly responsible for documenting data regarding the akademiya and the six darshans, he offered a helping hand during one of your small talks you had successfully managed to coax out of him.

and you did come here for that, but you just couldn't help but blurt everything out.

and it doesn't really help that alhaitham is looking at you like you've submitted the worst thesis possible. you haven't even handed it to him yet.

alhaitham continues to frown. “would it not be a hassle to be asking me out that much? why would you even be interested in me?” he had asked, and he didn't bother waiting for your reply as he continued speaking. “you could use those three times right now and i'll decline all of them instantly. that way, you won't have to bother me again.”

“well aren't you quite rude, scribe,” you huffed, retracting your hand back to your side. talk about rude; you're here for the sole purpose of asking him out. “give me a chance, would you? i'm confident that you'd have changed your mind by the time i'm on my last chance,” you grinned as you quirked your eyebrows up and down, and alhaitham almost rolled his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest and leans back on his chair. almost.

“i highly doubt it,” he says.

you tucked your files closer to your chest. “have you ever heard of the saying ‘third time's the charm’, scribe?”

“i believe so, yes,” he nods, then adds: “you'll only ever hear obsessive gamblers say that sort of nonsense when they've lost their current gamble, in hopes of winning the next round.”

in an instant, your jaw drops. “are you implying that i am gambling my love life?” see, if you look closely— alhaitham was this close to smiling.

“i am just saying that there is no point in pursuing something, or someone, in this case, when you've already failed the first time, biologist,” well, now you understand why scholars say he is unambitious. “it would be a waste of time to be around me, or be with me, for that matter. i doubt that i could ever reciprocate your feelings.”

ouch. you'll probably have to double check your list of alhaitham's personality chart again.

“please?” you plead, and alhaitham stares at you for a little too long that you eventually had to break eye contact to avoid his intense gaze. “i promise you that i will never bother you again, you can trust me on that. you won't even see my face on the grounds of the akademiya.”

he looks at you confusedly. “are you not the famous biologist with fifteen awards on their name? i am bound to bump into you in the near future, in one way or another.” he says, tapping his finger on his forearm.

huh, how did he know that you have won fifteen akademiyan awards? as far as you know, this guy knows nothing about you, the fact that he had to check which darshan you are from during your incident was enough proof.

maybe you're not the only one who is interested in the other.

“that's not the point!” you groaned, rubbing your temple with your free hand. this may or may not be directed to both your thoughts and him.

okay, maybe this was a bad idea after all— alhaitham is an impossible man. you'd think that you were capable enough to break his façade, to see the true him after a bit of pestering, but nooo, you're pretty damn sure this is him. there's no such thing as a façade. he's just… alhaitham. which could either be a blessing or a curse, if you ever manage to steal his heart. that, or maybe both. but then again, it still doesn't change the fact that he is one tough nut to crack.

alhaitham sighs. “will you really leave me alone?”

“huh?”

“will you really stop bothering me once you're over with your… shenanigans?”

you blinked. then, you widen your eyes, nodding. “of course. i won't pursue you again, scribe. all i am asking is for you to lend me your time for the duration of— uh, actually, i'm not sure what i am supposed to call this,” you mumble the last few words, but still audible enough for the gray-haired man to hear.

“say, hypothetically, what would you do if i were to agree to one of your three chances of asking me out? what will you do then?”

“oh,” you shift from one foot to another, awkwardness coursing through your veins at the lack of answer you could think of at the top of your head. “i… i am not quite sure. that's for future me to worry about, i guess?”

alhaitham raises a brow, but doesn't question your uncertainty. instead, he says something else in return: “alright, then. i will indulge in your antics for as long as you'd have me as your… social experiment.”

social experiment is just an over exaggeration, right? it has to be. no rational person says it like that.

“what?”

“i'm saying that i will agree to the terms you have given me, but you will stop bothering once your chances are up. do you understand?” he enunciates his words carefully, and you almost dropped your files, right then and there.

gulping, you nod, a small grin tugging at your lips, and alhaitham already regrets his words when you say: “of course.”

well, be prepared for a rollercoaster ride.

extra note - ok guys please keep me in your thoughts and prayers 🙏 writing slump is crazy this is the first work i’ve posted in over 2 months. that is ridonkulous. hope i don’t disappear again

taglist; @isotofl @dancinghillary @heartswonder

taglist is still open!! :D

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #genshin x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact reader insert #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin alhaitham #h✧˖— writes #h✧˖— everything has changed #i went through the five stages of grief writing this #yet somehow i still hate it

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plasticfangtastic · 1 year ago

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american royalty. ch. 2

A Homelander x F!reader fanfic.

a/n: will post ch. 3 this week but sadly my other fic will be posted next week, enjoy this slow burn dadlander fic, and thx u to all the readers. prev. chapter:

Sypnosis: Homelander never wanted to remember you, but after welcoming Ryan into his life, he thought of you & the lie that tore you two apart. Now... thinking back, thinking of your betrayal-- was he perhaps wrong about who the father of your unborn child was? Did you perhaps told the truth all those years ago?

Tags: mild gore, angst, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Two

Red

It had been a very long day, business was booming nowadays and since that influencer had made a couple videos on your pizzeria, you had been more than just busy, you began to run out of ingredients.

In the last four years, the restaurant had grown, it had been there since 2002 ran by your boss’s father and his brother, who had ran their own pizza shop since the 80’s but as the economy and other events hit, they had decided to relocate and re-brand, now managed by their son– a man you owed so much, had his heart not been filled with kindness you would most likely be in the streets. So you made sure his restaurant was the best, you had accolades, you’ve worked in some of the best restaurants, you were once a very prominent fast rising figure of the New York culinary scene– until Homelander came along.

Your talent revamped the restaurant and now your food was once again on the spotlight, for the first time since you left Vought, you were happy with yourself, even if it was pizza. Cooking made you happy, and this job needed you, you didn’t live in fear of sleeping in your car anymore, you didn’t need to worry that your daughter would sleep on somebody’s couch again, you were able to quit your third job and go casual on your second thanks to this place, right now you didn’t live in the best of places but you were saving up and in a couple months you’d have enough money saved up to move, and send your daughter to a better school, somewhere were her talents wouldn’t be wasted.

So here you were ten minutes before closing, another extra couple hours of overtime for your dream two bedroom apartment, where it would be safe for her, where you could finally feel like your life had moved on from him, that the door opened up and your cashier squealed.

It was a quaint looking restaurant, the wood seating was new and the wall decor had been changed trying to look less cluttered, with Art Deco lighting fixtures as the stand out feature. The place had been remodeled recently it seems, the kitchen and its big brick oven looked clean but ancient to Homelander, he stared at the menu board and metal boxes of accouterments by the counters, taking in that this was in fact a pizza place, that you of all people did in fact work at a pizza place. You who could whip up amazing fare, now made greasy cheap slices, but he had seen people come in and leave endlessly these past few days, people taking selfies, and recording themselves with your food, nothing he understood.

He looked back at the teenager on the counter offering his signature smile as she blubbered her script, then as you took a step closer knowing you couldn’t hide in this open kitchen you finally looked at each other for the first time in seven years.

Your throat collapsed and your whole body became prickly and tight, your heart was beating so fast you thought you might be having a heart attack, you looked at the clock cursing that it wasn’t over, you were almost done packing the kitchen and readying for tomorrow, having a customer at this hour was awful but having him here was about to take you to an early grave.

“What’s your best seller?” Homelander muttered looking straight at you with an aloof stare, then back at the cashier– is pizza night at my house, sorry for coming so late hope that’s not a problem?” he said exceedingly politely.

The teenager blushed and looked back at you as if asking you to pinch her.

“That would be our pepperoni queen– is two types of cheese, extra pepperoni, with our signature house made marinara, with a dash of vodka sauce in our sourdough thin crust… chili oil is optional” You had managed to say trying to ignore those piercing blue eyes, you moved back to your place staring at the few remaining trays of dough balls left– our second best seller is our chicken florentine pie.”

Homelander admittedly detested pizza, it was greasy, gooey and heavy, it was fattening and gross, but there was a familiar aroma in the room, something that was making his mouth water lightly. Looking back at the girl, he ordered both in their smallest size offered, he sat by one of the wooden booths for the ten minutes he was told to wait, and not once did he made a comment, maybe that’s why your heart stung so much, why it felt as if you were about to collapse– that after seven years, he had completely forgotten about you, while only now did you began to feel as if you could heal from all the suffering he’d cause you, how insignificant had you been all along, how you love never registered.

You both had talked of moving in together and buying a home, he wanted to buy you a restaurant, and you wanted to give him your life, you had never loved somebody as much as he made you love him, and now you were just some bum wearing a graphic t-shirt making him dinner.

You packed his food, your boss Kaleem had given him extras on the house, practically begging for Homelander to give them a photo for their socials and you simply stare as he did his superhero thing, you took one of the delivery bags knowing he would lose the food if he flew with them in hand.

After the photoshoot, Kaleem and your cashier had run to the back to show the picture to the only other staffer left at this hour.

You both looked at each other as he took the bag off your hands, you wanted to cry, your eyes welling up but you looked down afraid of him, no doubt he could hear your heartbeat tickling his ear.

“It's been a while hasn’t it?”

You could’ve collapsed into tears right then and there, it was worse to be remembered.

Growing angry at the sound of his soft voice, and that concerned expression in his face.

“Yes…”

“How you been? Didn’t think I'd ever see you again.”

“Should’ve killed me back then… got fucking close to it tho.” You dropped all pleasantries, hearing him talk and not hearing the word sorry 5 seconds in, had infuriated you. His stupid face, those stupid eyes, and that clown suit was too much for you, maybe it was the poor diet and lack of sleep but right now you wanted to ban him from Lucci’s– hope you enjoy the food.”

You pushed the bag jumping from the kitchen to the front as you headed for the door, holding it open for him.

“I’m doing alright. Now leave!”

“You don’t even want to know why I'm here?” he was taken aback by your brashness, you had always been sweet to him, tender, barely ever angry before, so why now?

“You got a little kid now, I gather like any other kid, he likes pizza… and good for him because mine is the best!”

“Not really… I actually wanted to see you. I… I just wanted to ask you something–

“Mother!!”

Your daughter emerged from the depths of the kitchen, she carried a kindle in one hand and a giftcard in the other.

“Is it okay if I use my present now? They got some books on sale and you said not to buy more books until I finished… oh…”

In the light and in front of him, your daughter truly looked like your mirror image, copy and pasted into a miniature. Her hair just past her chin, and her bangs indeed covered her eyes, peeking behind those curtains were the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen, there was no unnatural shine to them– just blue. Her lips so thin and her complexion just a tad paler than your own now that he gave it a proper look, she was so small-- too small for her age.

“Is okay honey, is your birthday you can get any books you want” Your tone shifted entirely lowering yourself to take her face and plant a quick peck on her cheek– now go back with uncle Kaleem and let mommy close shop, okay? We’ll go home in a minute.”

“Is it your birthday young lady? Congratulations.”

Homelander threw his best smile, giving the kid a cautious pet, catching the rage in your eyes as his gloved fingers touched your daughter.

“Thanks. Is not a milestone birthday so it is not worthy of congratulations… seems inane to celebrate it” she looked at her mother with a jaded expression– " I'll go get my bag, have a good night, sir.”

Homelander pressed his lip as the most deadpan voice came out of this little girl. Her oversized black sweater and the black tights made her look oddly unhappy, but the kid just stared at him with boredom, no surprise or interest when she stood next to America's favorite son.

He wondered if that was an adult or a seven year old for a second.

He worried if the kid had told his mother about that other night, but looking back at you he went with 'maybe'.

“What’s your name?” he asked, still forcing a smile– "my… you seem like a smart girl getting books for your birthday.”

“Helena.”

The kid couldn’t muster the energy to give him anything but her dead ass voice, she began to walk away not caring for manners, nor Homelander.

“She’s… cute.” he said watching that tiny figure walk away and surviving after her second nsult– great pronunciation for her age, does she even know what she’s saying?”

“Helena is not like other kids.”

“How so?”

You looked at him more tired than anything, rubbing your temples as you made yourself waste spit to talk to him.

“She’s a Supe… by the time she was two she could speak in full sentences, by three she could read at a first and second grade level, and by five she was teaching herself calculus and piano… she’s a genius; I thought she was a normal genius until… her other powers manifested– none of this matters! Just go!” You shook your head in frustration.

“You gave her V?” He said while staring at Helena.

“... I didn’t know what V was until the news broke out, I thought Helena was chosen by God! That the world blessed her with those powers, but when that story came out I’ve been wanting to ask you– did you give her V? but… if you didn’t… who… are you lying to me, John?”

Homelander looked past the concrete walls looking back at that little girl, he didn’t know what to say or do, before you could utter another word he left.

Ryan nose picked the meal quickly, glad that it was friday and his dad would let him stay up ‘til late, Homelander just dropped the meal on their new table and the kid was quick on his feet, the food was still warm, only now did Homelander noticed the extras, couple of small containers holding chili oil and freshly made ranch, garlic knots and a lemon meringue pie, it was too much but Ryan hadn’t hesitated to dig in, before Homelander could ask him to wash his hands he had ripped a slice of pepperoni.

“This is so good!” He said so cheerfully– gosh I was starving, dad.”

“I sure hope so, bud… let’s leave the pie for tomorrow…” he looked grossed out, Ryan sat opening up the garlic knot’s containers– not gonna eat?”

Homelander sat down to join him, the thought of touching all those greasy surfaces was making his stomach hurl, but he relented, taking a slice.

He was young again, and you were there coming back with some drinks as he ate your chicken florentine, this was the same recipe, the chicken was so juicy and the cheese wasn’t greasy. Ryan was shocked to see his father sound so happy as he took another bite.

It was the first time they both ate together where they felt completely comfortable with each other, maybe it was seeing Ryan not pick at his food that made Homelander able to just talk, Ryan told him all about his homework, and the videogame he was playing, he really liked Fifa at the moment even if he himself cared not for the sport.

Helena watched as her mother stood silently hovering above the sink, you hadn’t moved much for a couple of minutes, your daughter more annoyed than anything else regarding this display.

“How do you know Homelander?” she asked with a yawn.

“Huh?” you woke up from your trance– you should be in bed, darling.”

“You too. So… How do you know the clown?”

“Honey, don't say that!”

“He walks around wearing a onesie all day… like a clown… like the rest of those super clowns”

Your daughter always spoke with a creepy maturity, her voice didn’t belong to a kid.

“... He used to be my boss… he was a really bad boss…”

“You used to work for Vought?” She softened her stand.

“Honey… I don’t really want to talk about this… it's late and we are going to the museum tomorrow so you should get some sleep, mommy is just tired… hope you had a good birthday.”

“You should rest too, mother.”

Your daughter's eyes glowed momentarily turning th blinkers off before she made her way to bed, you stared at her door, thinking if she could see you.

No mother should think their child was creepy, Helena was just difficult and abrasive, to be a small kid with her brain must be unbearable. You could recall the moment she asked you about V so vividly, she looked angry, but you had no honest answer to give her, you had to lie, god knows if you got the details right about how these people committed these crimes. Helena simply had no ability to relate to people, and without the funds you couldn’t help her meet her potential, not while you were both stuck living in public housing, not while scraping every penny.

Her few friends forced her to dumb down and even they found her uneasy, only the old people seemed to handle her best, she loved to listen, and her teachers always thought of her as a delight, yet she knew no other Supe beside herself, those pageants were expensive, and networking meetings were hard to get in, talent agencies were costly– having a super-abled kid and trying to make them into a Supe was locked behind a massive paywall, all you could hope was that her genius would let her enter a university early on scholarships.

There was always Godolkin, but god knows if they would let her enter at a young age.

It would be easy if her father was involved, if John was there in her life, she would have the world but he didn’t want her, he had made that clear years ago.

So why did he lie about the V?

It had been two weeks since you seen Homelander, but he saw you a lot, he'd come back and forth-- watching you and the child with ardent curiosity, seeing you made him reminisce, of those many nights and afternoons, of the way no matter how tired you were, you always made sure to look happy when he showed up, the way you looked so at peace while cooking, of the feel of your skin against his and the taste of your precious lips as you kissed him good morning.

He followed you, on your only day off as you took Helena around the city, watching you share a slice of overprice cake while taking notes, and ate cheap chinese for lunch, you waited for two hours as Helena played chess and checkers with some oldies at a chess shop, some russian man gave her lessons-- some of these people dressed nicely perhaps pros. Some won over her and some lost but the games were quick, your daughter seemed happier when she loss than when winning.

Something about that didn’t sit well with Homelander.

Somehow he found himself in your apartment, cracking open the window to sneak in while you headed back home– the tiny apartment felt more like a closet than a habitable space, the ceilign was run down, and the appliances ancient but well kept, your bedroom was simple, cooking books and boxes sat on top of your dressers, a single’s bed with plush comforters and pillows stuck against the wall, with a wardrobe in front of it, and a cheap fan tucked in the corner. He left for your daughter’s room just a few feet away divided by the bathroom were most of the clutter and laundry lived, her bedroom was just as plain, but the books didn’t seem fit for a small child, her desk tidy and organized, he picked up a notebook from the pile, seeing math equations that hurt his eyes within seconds. All her stuff were nice and new, she had a decent computer on top of her bed, an old dresser, but there was an absence of toys– compared to Ryan’s bedroom that was filled with anything he wanted and decorated expertly. A clock adorned her walls but not much else, the few things that looked messy was a tiny plastic chess set, the kind with magnets on the bottom, and some DIY stem kits.

He took to the bathroom, it was old and falling apart, mold was growing in the corner much to Homelander’s disgust, trolley held dozens of beauty stuff and shampoos and detergents, a shelf on the wall held towels and toilet rolls. Homelander looked at a sparkly hairbrush, picking a couple strands of lost hair knowing by their lengths and color that they weren’t yours, and cursing himself for doing this as he place them on small plastic bag he had hid in his glove.

#homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander x you #homelander x reader #the boys fanfiction #personal #my fic tag #not proofread sorry #american royalty #already got 2 more chapters done for this hope yall like it #I really like slow burn stories #my natural enemy is the short story it seems #homelader x f!reader #dadlander #the boys oc

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luna-rainbow · 10 months ago

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idk if you've seen that post, it's from years ago at this point, where someone is surprised to hear that Bucky has a disability. i think it's in an ask with a response like HE'S MISSING AN ARM. remembering that left me thinking,,, what are your thoughts on Bucky's own comprehension of his disability? like, i'm sure he experiences chronic pain, and he's aware of his disability *especially once he has a metal arm that can be detatched as we see in tfatws* but i also feel like he might feel guilty taking the title of disabled because he has the serum and is "super" plus he doesn't feel like he deserves the support/help that can and should be given to disabled people when they need it. ALSO he hasn't had all that much time to process as a human rather than a controlled weapon that he is missing an arm. his prosthetic has been welded into him,, with probably less sensation,, but it functions like an arm,, idk i just feel like it probably hits him out of the blue, too 🥲

Oooh thanks for the interesting ask nonnie! And yes I do remember that hilarious post.

Here's my usual disclaimer that this is just throwing out ideas and that canon lends itself to many different interpretations.

I think the first thing to consider is Bucky's relationship with disability as a concept. He was good friends with Steve, a chronically ill person, but sometimes people have a different bias when it comes to invisible illness versus visible body difference. I have seen people, including disabled people, who are more accepting of one type than the other. He had grown up during a time when disability was considered a "defect" and there was talk of eliminating them from the gene pool, so there might be some inherent fear of being seen as "disabled". At the same time, he had also fought through one of the bloodiest wars of human history but also post the antibiotic era, which means a lot of major injuries became survivable compared to WW1. He likely saw many people around him become physically marked in one way or another. I have a feeling that that experience would have reconciled him with the fact that the value of life is greater than physical wholeness. So overall, I think Bucky probably had a fairly accepting view on disability and illness back when he was able-bodied, and while he needs time to process the loss, that acceptance is probably somewhat protective against self-hatred.

The second thing is the curious subject of Bucky's bionic arm. I have met (lower limb) amputees who reject the "disabled" label, because to them once they put on a prosthesis they could walk and run and work and exercise. I think worrying about being "deserving" might be a small part of it, there's a bigger part of worrying about social perceptions of disability -- they didn't want the "handicap" label to be used to hold them back. I suspect you are right, in that Bucky probably sees himself as very capable, even super-humanly so, with the (very high-tech) prosthesis. He most likely feels that being a soldier is a big part of his identity and sense of worth. I suspect also...going back to what Bucky's relationship with the word "disability" means, his interpretation of that (given he came from the 1940s) might mean something that has a profound impact on function, and he may feel that he doesn't fit that mark.

The third thing is Bucky's relationship with body image, which has varied from movie to movie. The Winter Soldier had no qualms flaunting that arm, but then the Winter Soldier had no mind of its own, and its handlers knew the metal arm was intimidating. In both Civil War and TFATWS, we see Bucky wear gloves and long sleeves to hide his arm, which he removes when he starts a mission. It could be that he doesn't want to scare people or draw attention to it day to day, or it could be that he associates the arm with the soldier part of himself and he doesn't want to see it when he's trying to return to a normal life. Interestingly, in Wakanda, Bucky had been quite content to walk around without any sort of prosthesis at all. This might suggest that he's less bothered by the missing arm than he is by the need to wear a weaponised prosthesis.

But you know, people are fickle creatures, and I am sure when he's hit by PTSD or a bout of anxiety or depression, his views on body image and his physical limitations would take a very nasty turn and he would have to work through all the stages of grief again.

#asks #bucky barnes #bucky barnes meta

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signor-signor · 5 months ago

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Trending 27th - June 2024

What gives you the motivation for not giving up on Wander Over Yonder?

Well, for starters, when Craig McCracken brought up the uncalled-for cancellation, he also brought up the existence of…

The Plans

Here’s what Craig said in his Tumblr post from March of 2016:

“About a year ago we presented a pitch for a season 3 arc that promised to bring our characters together in new, unexpected, and hilarious ways. And just as S2 evolved from S1, we had a really exciting approach to evolving S3 even further. We had plans for new characters, the return of old characters, and even a bit of backstory! We were all really excited about the new direction and so were our bosses at DisneyXD and TVA.”

“Unfortunately, the higher up bosses of bosses of bosses at Disney decided not to continue with the show. It's not that they didn't like Wander, they just felt that 2 seasons and 80 cartoons was enough and they didn't see the need to produce any more.”

“For the record, this decision had nothing to do with the ratings performance of S2. Truth be told, we were informed that we wouldn't be continuing before S2 even premiered.”

If what he said is to be believed, the mediocre performance of S1 on Disney XD made the “higher up bosses of bosses of bosses” think WOY shouldn’t continue after S2, so they decided to cancel it five months after the pitch, one week before The Greater Hater premiered. Big mistake. After nearly a decade, Craig still keeps the plans for S3 under wraps, but his talk of S3 is enough to pique my curiosity. He piqued it even more when he brought up Star Force Enforcement Force in 2021. Truth be told, he knows way more about that third and final season than he let on.

At first, I thought S2 would wrap up the show nicely. Boy, was I wrong - it wrapped up S2, but not the whole show. Once I checked out The End of the Galaxy, I knew right then and there that one more season was planned, because in the end credits, I saw…

The Cliffhanger

I will admit, I found the last couple of minutes anticlimactic. Dominator spurned Wander’s friendship, Hater is still cuckoo for conquering (much to Peepers’s delight), and the main four are practically back where they began. I reiterate, it wrapped up the season nicely, but not the whole show, because what I’m about to describe is indicative of the show’s unfinished business.

Dominator walks off in angry defeat, trying to peel an orange (or open a jar of jam if you prefer, assuming you looked closely at what she grabbed), and she grumbles, “They’ll get what’s coming to them.” Unbeknownst to her, she passes by a crash-landed space capsule with its door unhinged. Green lightning flashes, ominous Hater-themed music plays, and simian screeching is heard and fades into Hater’s evil laugh.

How is this anything less than an indicator of unfinished business? If stopping the show here is not a bad move, I don’t know what is. I’m positive English primatologist Jane Goodall would not be pleased with the decision to leave an ape stranded in space with no one around to help him. The question remains: who would find that space ape? Wander and the passengers aboard the Star Nomad or Star Force Enforcement Force? Only Craig and those who worked on the pitch with him would know and so would the bosses of Disney XD and DTVA. There’s also something that was on my mind after I watched the season finale. I shall now tell you about…

The Missing Pieces

I’m, of course, referring to parts that were absent from the episode and left unexplained. We’ve got the other villains, most of whom were last seen in The Bad Neighbors. Emperor Awesome made a silent appearance in The Sick Day, and that was it. As a certain @koskela13 indicated in a post 8 years ago, the villains never mustered up the courage to help the heroes fight against Dominator. There’s also Buster, the planet-sized puppy dog whom the Ballzerians call home. Since Beeza and the Ballzerians were among the refugees, he had to have fled from Dominator’s galactic onslaught. I found long ago that he’s supposed to be all right, but where he is remains to be seen. Same goes for Janet the Planet and her moon, Maurice; however, it was said that they were on their honeymoon, hence their absence in S2. Another thing that I think was left out was Wander getting to sing/play his banjo. Think about it, if the crew had wanted to stop after S2, would they have had Wander perform a glorious reprise of an upbeat song right after Dominator’s downfall? That was never done. It’s pretty obvious.

Moving right along, another thing that keeps me motivated is…

The Fan Content

Over the years, I came across countless fan pieces to make the Internet aware of the show’s existence, such as @wanderin-over-yonder’s calendars. It’s possible to come up with WOY-related activities, original characters, and meta gags.

Master Yisuko

Dr. Otmar Vunderbar

In case you haven’t guessed by now, the possibilities are endless.

I would expand more on the Star Nomad, but I’m sure you can find the information in my previous posts. As long as we’re talking fan stuff, let me refer to…

The Supporting Characters (and their VAs’ Longevities)

Apart from the five major characters, The End of the Galaxy had at least ten other characters speak solo (King Bingleborp, Destructor, the Cashier, Prince Cashmere, Neckbeard, the Lost and Found Guy, the Black Cube, Mittens, Major Threat, and Michelle). All the others barely had a chance to shine. For that reason, I put my effort into showcasing as many of them as I could in my fan fiction, The Eye on the Galaxy. What’s more, some of those characters are performed by voice actors over the age of 50. Stella Starbella was voiced by June Squibb, who was in her mid-80s while WOY was running. Today, she’s a nonagenarian, and if her performance in Inside Out 2 as Nostalgia is any indication, it’s not too late for her to reprise her role as that character. We might have until 2030 to revive the show, assuming June lives to be 100.

By the way, Major Threat was said to become a recurring character in S3, and we’ve yet to see him actually interact with Wander long after he put his days of villainy behind him.

Now I wish to bring up…

The Luck of the Other Shows

A vague and unconvincing reason for WOY’s cancellation was that two seasons/80 episodes were enough. I mean, really? Disney never felt that way about Fish Hooks, which I believe has three seasons and 110 episodes. Also, they allowed Star vs. the Forces of Evil to run for four seasons, putting it well over 100 episodes. And how about Big City Greens? Although not as frequently brought up as Gravity Falls, Amphibia, or The Owl House, it recently managed to get a whopping five seasons. They’re treating it like it’s the new Phineas and Ferb, although there’s no merchandising or presence in the parks. When I compare WOY to the aforementioned shows, it’s clear to me that it had the worst of luck. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if those other shows had pitches for later seasons. We can’t stand idly by while the plans made for WOY remain shelved. It just wouldn’t be right, y’know what I mean?

One more thing…

The Other Fandoms of Shows With Unfinished Business

I’ve noticed the presence of fans of shows that still have more to tell, including, but not limited to, Sym-Bionic Titan and Glitch Techs. One show that’s being resurrected as we speak is Sonic the Hedgehog (SatAM), which ran in the 1990s for a measly two seasons and, just like WOY, was left on a cliffhanger (in this one, Snively re-emerges in a different outfit and is raring to take his uncle’s place and put a stop to the Freedom Fighters, and behind him stands Naugus, who somehow managed to escape the void). Fortunately, a group called Team Sea3on are working on a S3 premiere titled “Return to Robotropolis.” You can find this group on just about any social media platform - their determination to right the wrong done to the show is truly inspiring.

Did I mention shows like Hey Arnold! and Samurai Jack got closure after years of being neglected and incomplete? The same thing could happen to WOY if we persevere. Invader Zim, which also only got two seasons, got its overdue closure (I think) in the form of a Netflix-exclusive movie. If a season is too much work, fewer episodes or a two-hour TV movie should suffice.

And I think that’s about it for now. I hope all this information was enough to keep you all motivated! Fight on for fairness, my friends, and to those of you who think of The End of the Galaxy only as a SEASON finale, I thank you.

#CanceledCartoons

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unreadpoppy · 2 months ago

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bg3, infographics, misogyny and you

Preface: this is a long ass post that I wrote some many weeks ago, and that because of some stuff I've seen, I'm compelled to finally post it. It's very like a spurn of the moment thing, not extremely well thoght out but I still think it's relevant.

Recently, a few people have posted some, in my opinion, really insightful infographics showing the difference in content to how many works (in AO3) there are to the female characters vs the male characters of BG3 and I've been thinking about how it relates to fandom in general, but also...everything.

As a quick rundown, what happens is: almost all of the female characters have a lot less content when compared to their male counterparts (at least writing wise). And I think this is a great moment to stop and think on why is that.

There's a lot of point to begin with but I want to begin with something larger and that is the society most of us are raised in. Obviously, I can't speak for everyone, but I think it's fair to say that most people grew up in places that had its fair share of sexism and give it or take, that does shape how we view the world.

I'll speak from my own experience. Even thought I had a mostly liberal upbriging, I went to a very conservative school and when I was growing up, I saw a lot of videos on youtube that anaylized media in what i can only describe as "god forbid women do anything". Video after video, I saw people commenting on how x female character was a mary sue, how she made no sense and ruined the plot, so many video essays on the """strong female character trope"""" that would end up just enforcing gender roles again. And I'll be honest, this DID affect how viewed female characters.

The best example I can give of this is with bg3 itself. There was one day that I stopped and realized that Minthara was the first time I ever obsessed over a fem character as much as any male character. And the second thought I had after this was 'oh my god why???'

Why did I always cater more to the male characters than I did to the female ones, when most of the times, I liked a lot as well?

I'd like to point out that I've seen the topic of "Most fic authors are cis straight women" being brought up a lot and frankly, I'm not the biggest fan of it. First, because I think it's overall a very...heteronormative way of seeing stuff and it's assuming a lot of stuff that puts a sour taste on my mouth (as a queer woman myself, I really don't like that implication but that's on me). Second, because saying that 'obviously women are going to write more about men' feels very...weird. Third, I just think that this argument fails to really question the why of it all and gives too simple an answer to something is anything but.

One can make the argument that these female characters are written differently than the men, and yes that is true and it's even historical (I wrote a whole project on the invisibility of women in theater through the ages and a lot of it has to do with how women were written, but that's a story for another time).

But I don't think that's true for all cases. It's easy to blame an imaginary writer's room than question that you might have internal biases.

Because at least it's what happened to me. I grew up hearing how female characters were inferior to the male characters and it affected how I viewed them. It's something I had to stop and reevalute and it led me to appreciate characters I once loathed.

And it sucks to realize that. It sucks to realize that even as a woman myself, I was not immune to commiting sexism, that I hadn't fully outgrown the shit I saw as a kid. Does that make me a bad person? No. You're not to blame for being raised in a way that leads you to have certain prejudices.

But it doesn't mean you can't do anything about it.

And no, the solution is not to suddenly go write a bunch of femslash. Because no one is saying that you should feel ashamed for writing more for men, or forcing you to like female characters. But, I ask you to do something much simpler.

Think on the why. Why, even when we love female characters, we don't show them as much love as we do to the male ones. Why we might feel more compelled to write for the men than for the women. Because sometimes it's questioning ourselves that we can find something about us we didn't know and change how we engage with media.

And you can brush this off as just fandom stuff, but I think it does, in some ways, also reflect a bit on how we act as whole as a society. Hell, writing this whole thing made me think of how the way I was raised still interferes with my own sexuality (which is a very personal topic for me to get on here but it was worth mentioning). What I'm trying to say is that sometimes something small is an easier way for us to understand the bigger, systemic issues around us.

I know that it sounds like there's nothing to be done cause fandoms have always been like this. But, personally, this sort of conformity to the norm causes more harm then good. Things won't change unless you decide to do something about it. And the good thing about fandom is that it's small enough that doing literally anything can create some impact than, I don't know, trying to solve big, real life societal issues.

This is getting long so I'm gonna try to wrap this up quickly. No one is shaming you if you write or obsesses more or even care more about male characters than you do female ones. I just ask you to think about it and be honest with yourself. Because then maybe, just maybe, next time you engage with another media, you might end up enjoying a female character much more and obsessing over them just as much.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fandom #female characters #bg3 #fandom misogyny

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takerfoxx · 8 months ago

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(After)Life: Why the Evangelion Pilots Should Be Left Alone

Hey, throwing this up here before I officially publish it in a couple days as both of a sort of preview and also for feedback. This is the first installment of that Evangelion story that I've been talking about, a sort of in-universe opinion piece to introduce the premise and themes and whatnot. But basically, here's the general idea: it takes place over the course of about a century and a half after End of Evangelion, where Third Impact turned everyone into orange juice (LCL, whatever) and made humanity into a hivemind. Shinji and Asuka emerge onto that beach in a post-apocalyptic landscape like in the movie, Rei herself later returns under very odd circumstances, and after many trials and tribulations they eventually form a throuple. However, as more and more people also emerge from Instrumentality and society begins to rebuild, they find themselves needing someone to blame, and the Eva pilots seem the perfect fit. And since Shinji, Asuka, and Rei are afflicted with a somewhat modified version of the Eva's curse from the Rebuild films (basically, can't age, can't die), they're stuck with it for a long time.

So, basically the idea is for it to be a series of short stories released out-of-order, each of them taking place at a random point of time and touching in with how the trio are doing at that particular moment and keeping track of how society is reacting to them, and vice-versa. So, this will be very different than the more serialized stuff I've done in the past, and a lot more manageable as a result. Any installments will come out whenever I feel like working on this. Anyway, here's the first installment. Let me know what you think.

Why the Evangelion Pilots Should Be Left Alone, by Alice Glocke

One-hundred and twelve years ago, the world died, and ever since then, we have been seeking someone to blame.

A world still reeling from the horrors of Second Impact. A world under constant invasion by extraterrestrial monsters beyond comprehension. A world fighting desperately against increasingly hopeless odds not just to recover, but to survive, to not go quietly into that good night, to plant its feet and declare into the face of God himself that it not only existed, but would continue to exist, and woe be to all that would seek its destruction.

In this, it failed, and the world died.

In many ways, the horrors of Third Impact are less of a scar and more of an open wound, one bleeding LCL into our waters. Yes, we continue to rebuild, and life continues to repopulate and flourish. But though the brief moment in which humanity ceased to exist was now over a century ago, we still have those among us who were forced to take part in Instrumentality, only regaining their thoughts, bodies, and sense of personal identity through sheer force of will, and who had to eke out any means of survival that they could on a dead planet.

In the years following Third Impact, as society finally began to reconstruct itself and climb out of the muck into something that was at least functional, humanity has had to grapple with how to respond to the collective trauma that every person on the planet now shared. There was a great deal of righteous anger and a cry for justice, but with the entire SEELE Council still out of reach within Instrumentality, those cries went unfulfilled. Yes, a small number of NERV employees were found and taken into custody, but those were found to have nothing to do with Third Impact, with only that organization’s highest-ranking members working in cohorts with SEELE. And those individuals also remained out of reach.

And then, everything changed. Fourteen years after Third Impact, we finally had someone to blame. The surviving Evangelion Pilots had been found.

In a way, finding them had been a relief. So much bottled-up anger, so much unresolved pain, and those responsible were beyond justice. Now, humanity had the perfect scapegoats. Essential key components of SEELE’s Instrumentality Project, masquerading as fearless defenders of Earth while working the whole time to destroy it. Shinji Ikari, known as the Third Child, and son of NERV’s infamous commander Gendo Ikari, the man perhaps the most responsible for enacting Third Impact. And Asuka Soryu Langley, Second Child, daughter of one of the Human Instrumentality Project’s designers. And while there had been many to decry pinning the blame on those two, that it was unfair to place the sins of the parents on their hapless children, all of those protests faded away when Shinji Ikari made his fateful confession. It had been he that had been given the choice whether or not to allow Third Impact to take place. And it had been he who had made the decision to end the world.

Everyone knows that image of two young teenagers being led from the UN Council by their lawyers and bodyguards, being pelted with garbage from an angry crowd. Whether they saw it in textbooks, had it sent to them by friends as a meme, or even were one of those that watched it live, this is perhaps the most infamous image of the New World. And for a time, most felt that the anger directed at those two was fully justified. Certainly, the UN Council seemed to agree, finding them both guilty of aiding and abetting in SEELE’s schemes to end the world, Shinji intentionally and Asuka unintentionally. The two were then incarcerated in a “secure facility,” and that was that.

Since then, the condition of the two pilots has mostly fallen out of the public’s consciousness. No appeals, no interviews, no word as to what they were up to or how they were doing. Every single “Where are they now?” op-ed has always ended up as a rewritten version of the same events, with each one ending with “Shinji and Asuka: still locked up,” with the only significant change being the number of years between the trial and the newest article’s publication.

Which isn’t to say that they’ve disappeared completely, but rather they seemed to have ceased to become actual public figures and become more of caricatures. They appear in comic strips and cartoons as grossly exaggerated versions of themselves, usually with the destruction of the world as the punchline. They’ve become symbols, memes, representations of the guilt laid upon their shoulders, little more than villains straight out of a children’s story.

Which isn’t to say there haven’t been voices of support over the years. Asuka especially seems to have garnered a small but vocal following, pointing out that she actually had nothing to do with the implementation of Third Impact, and so forcing her to share Shinji’s fate was perhaps unfair. The phrase “Asuka did nothing wrong” has come in and out of vogue, and in time it seems that she has become something of a symbol of the unjustly persecuted. Even Shinji himself, who for so long shouldered the majority of the blame for Third Impact, has seen a turnaround in how the public has treated him, pointing out that perhaps placing the full blame for what had happened upon a child soldier indoctrinated by an evil organization of adult men is a bit unfair.

However, none of these voices ever gained much traction. Once the trial was over, most of humanity’s attention was directed toward just trying to heal, and there was little room for the Evangelion Pilots.

But then, nine months ago, all of that changed.

The hacking of the UN security files and the subsequent leaks of not only their own data on the pilots, but also all of the files that they had managed to recover from NERV, has been nothing less than earth-shaking. Granted, little had been revealed about the Human Instrumentality Project and SEELE’s designs that the public didn’t already know, though the full extent of their machinations had been troubling. However, it was the data on the pilots that had been the most troubling, and revealed how little we truly understood about the Earth’s murderers.

For decades, Shinji Ikari had been painted as a willing participant in his father’s schemes, Gendo Ikari’s heir anointed and trusted lieutenant. But now we knew the truth. He was little more than a child forced into taking part in a war that he wanted no part in and suffered greatly for. We listened to the recordings of his screams of agony, his enraged curses and threats, and his pleas for help on behalf of himself and his fellow pilots. We read the psychological evaluations of his frequent depressive states, his attempts to run away, and the lack of support that he received. We learned of his own father’s cold treatment of him, and how Gendo Ikari would psychologically torture his son to get him back into the cockpit of his Evangelion.

And with all of this came the truth. Shinji and the other pilots were deliberately abused. Evangelions were at their most effective when bonded with a broken soul. The pilots were traumatized time and time again in order to increase their effectiveness in combat and denied help afterward. In light of this new information, we ourselves were forced to confront an uncomfortable truth. Shinji Ikari’s decision to cause Third Impact was less the act of megalomaniac enacting his father’s master scheme as it was that of a suffering child drowning in a sea of rage and torment, desperate to escape the Hell that his life had become.

Who among us as children has not wished that the world would end at one time or another? Shinji was simply unfortunate enough to have the means to do so thrust into his hands when at his lowest, and he had far more reason to do so than anyone ever could have imagined. And by all accounts, he regretted it immediately afterward.

There is no justifying what he did, no taking back the suffering that he caused. But at least now, people have come to understand why, and feel that he had been unfairly mischaracterized by history.

But that was far from the biggest bombshell to come out of that leak. Just as everyone was coming to terms with what we had learned about someone so long believed to be a monster, we discovered something that pushed almost all discussion of Shinji Ikari out of everyone’s minds.

Rei Ayanami had survived.

If there is anyone among the Evangelion Pilots subject to more discussion, demonization, and blame for what had happened, it is her. And why wouldn’t she be? An artificial human, created by a combination of human DNA and genetic material gathered from Lilith, the secretly imprisoned second Angel, literally created to serve as Lilith’s resurrection and the one to carry out the Third Impact.

Rei had fulfilled her purpose. She had bonded with Adam, the first Angel, and transformed into an abomination. Those who witnessed Third Impact spoke of a monster, an enormous pale-skinned woman embracing the Earth. And there was little reason to doubt this, as her gigantic corpse had been found just offshore of the ruins of Tokyo-3 and sits in the Human Instrumentality Research Center to this day, alongside the recovered remains of the Evangelions themselves, the corpses of the Angels, and the last remaining pool of LCL, containing the souls of those who decided to remain in Instrumentality. Surely, if anyone deserves to be painted as a monster, it is her. And it wasn’t as if she were around to protest how the history books characterized her, as she had perished immediately after destroying the world.

Except she hadn’t, at least not permanently. She had come back, and had been found alongside Shinji Ikari and Asuka Langley. The whole time when the UN had been making scapegoats of those poor children, the actual monster had been in their hands, and they said nothing.

However, calling even Rei a monster had proven to be more complicated than anyone could have expected.

The topic of Rei Ayanami’s rebirth is woven into the enigma of her existence. Much has been made of her reincarnation as Lilith, while next to nothing has ever been discussed about Rei Ayanami the person, Rei Ayanami the human. And why would there be? All accounts of her painted her as a cold, emotionless being, as befitting her alien origins. What more is there to discuss?

As it turns out, there is plenty.

We have long known of NERV’s barbaric and, dare I say, downright blasphemous experiments involving the human soul, how each of the Evangelions literally had the soul of a person close to its chosen pilot embedded into its neural network. For Shinji and Asuka, it was their mothers. But what of Rei? What of this artificial person, created from a test tube, born from a vat? What person could possibly fill that role?

As it turns out, it was herself.

Three years after her creation, Rei was accidentally killed by Dr. Akagi, one of the scientists working on the Human Instrumentality Project. Her soul was preserved, thanks to its artificial nature. However, with her death, NERV saw an opportunity. Only half of her soul was implanted within a fresh clone body, while the other served as the core of Unit 00, the first of the Evangelions.

With only half a human soul, Rei’s capacity to experience normal emotions and form human connections was severely stunted, resulting in the passive, almost robotic individual described by those who knew her. She was likewise groomed to be utterly obedient, valuing little for her own life while carrying out her orders with no hesitation. And yet, despite these handicaps, connections did form. Notes from her handlers speak of a growing friendship between herself and Shinji Ikari, one that had NERV’s command concerned. After all, should she somehow break free from their programming, it could threaten all of their carefully laid plans.

This was further complicated by her second death, when Eva 00 became infected by Armisael, the Sixteenth Angel, and was forced to self-destruct before the infection could spread. Again, Rei’s soul was retrieved, but with no Eva to implant half of it into, the entire thing was placed within her new body. And unwilling to risk having a Rei Ayanami suddenly experiencing the full range of human emotions with no prior experience controlling them in such a critical stage, NERV using psychiatric drugs, tranquilizers, and mental conditioning to keep her confined within her customary passive and pliable state, right up until the end.

The topic of Rei’s latest resurrection has also been heavily debated. Certainly, her own recounting of the event has been less than helpful. We know that NERV had a number of clone bodies in reserve should she die in battle, but they were all destroyed leading up to Third Impact. According to Rei herself, a new body was formed by a “her,” presumably Lilith. Another time she claimed to have created the new body herself. But regardless of the body’s origin, following Lilith’s death, her human soul somehow found its way back into the final clone body, where she was later found by Shinji and Asuka, and remained with them for the next fourteen.

Part of the reason that the outrage against the UN has found it difficult to be sustained is that there is a lack of agreement on what exactly to be outraged about, as so much was revealed that turned everything that we thought to be true on its head, causing more confusion than anger. But perhaps the most revealing aspect of the leaks were what has since been dubbed the Pilot Interviews, recordings of the interrogations of the Evangelion Pilots following their capture.

Shinji Ikari’s were certainly eye-opening. Throughout his questioning, he was revealed to be a man haunted by his actions, someone who spent years drowning in guilt and who had only just begun to break the surface. He spoke of his many failed suicide attempts, of begging both Rei and Asuka to put him out of his misery, and seemed completely resigned to whatever justice he was to be sentenced to, though at times a passive-aggressive streak would surface, especially whenever the topic of his infamous father came up. Still, if anything, it was these series of tapes that did the most to rehabilitate his image.

Asuka’s, on the other hand, were anything but passive. If anything, she was downright hostile. It was clear that she did not feel that her and her companion’s capture was in any way justified, and felt compelled to explain her disdain to her interrogators in full, and often very colorful, detail. Nor did she feel the slightest bit remorseful for any part that she had to play in NERV’s atrocities.

There has been some debate if her attitude was warranted, with her defenders pointing out that she was correct, that she hadn’t actually had anything to do directly with Third Impact, while others claim that given the circumstances, her behavior reeked of haughty entitlement.

However, all of that was completely overshadowed by the third set of interview sessions, that of Rei Ayanami.

If Shinji’s were regretful and Asuka’s volatile, then Rei’s were downright unhinged. A far cry from the serene, almost emotionless person that she was said to be, this Rei was fully out of control, at times exploding with anger, screaming curses and profanities and death threats so detailed that they seemed less threats as they were expressed intentions that she would have carried out were she able. Other times she would collapse into a blubbering mess, wailing and pleading for forgiveness. Other times she would enter into a catatonic state, seeming to retreat within herself and not respond to any stimuli whatsoever. And still others times she would sink into a full depressive state, unable to respond with anything more than a few whispered, one-word answers, while frequently asking for death.

Certainly, the tapes of Rei’s sessions were disturbing, and to this day no one seems to know what to make of them. Is she truly the monster that she’s made out to be? An innocent victim? Nothing on those tapes seemed to indicate either way.

However, Dr. Anno of London-2 University seems to have what I feel to be the most likely answer. Rei was someone who grew up as an incomplete person. With half of her soul locked away in a gigantic bio-mechanical abomination, she was kept from experiencing the full range of human emotions, and thus never learned how to control her feelings when those emotions were returned to her. She then spent the next fourteen years thrust into a harrowing survival situation, where her only two points of human contact weren’t exactly the finest examples of emotional stability either.

However, as different as the three pilots’ reactions to their interrogators were, there is one thing that united all three: a fervent, almost desperate concern for the well-being of the other two. Rei was the most overt, with her episodes of rage especially largely spent demanding to see Shinji and Asuka and making graphic threats should any harm befall them, but Shinji and Asuka also frequently pleaded to be reunited with each other and Rei. It is clear that whatever their relationship had been during their time actually piloting the Evangelions, the fourteen years that they had spent together had formed an extremely close bond.

What followed next, we all know. Shinji and Asuka’s capture was made public, with no mention of Rei. Those two were then put on trial before the UN Council and found guilty, with the last time that the world saw them was them being led through a jeering crowd toward the waiting transports. And from there, they were to be taken away, never to see the light of day again.

However, we now know that the trial was, at least in part, a façade. An act. Almost a stage play. A deal had been struck with Shinji Ikari and Asuka Langley: take the fall for the Third Impact, and you will be reunited with Rei. And then the three of you will be taken somewhere safe to live out your days in peace. The world needed a scapegoat, and it was to be them. Naturally, they agreed.

At this point, the tide had fully turned in favor of the unfairly maligned Evangelion Pilots. Even Rei was starting to be treated with some measure of sympathy. But it was what happened next that fully won over people’s hearts.

As I said, we all have the image of Shinji and Asuka being led away from the trial burned into our minds. The sorrow on Shinji’s face and the resentment on Asuka’s. The featureless helmets of their bodyguards. The trash flying through the air, hurled by the angry crowd. But what nobody knew until now was what happened when they reached their destination, and when they were finally reunited with Rei.

The nature of the relationship between Shinji Ikari and Asuka Langley has, like everything else about them, been hotly debated, though it has been commonly accepted that they were lovers. And it was this moment that definitively proved that assertion, but with a new wrinkle: not only were Shinji and Asuka romantically tied, but Rei was equally involved with both of them.

It feels horribly gauche to comment on such an intimate moment, especially since it was no doubt intended to be private, but I feel that it was this moment that the world fully realized how cruel those grossly exaggerated portrayals in our media have been. These were not monsters. These were not villainous masterminds. These were people. People that loved one another, people that were willing to shoulder the blame for history’s greatest tragedy in order to protect one another, people that gave up everything just to be with each other. Yes, they had done terrible things, and yes, they should bear that responsibility. However, it is now clear that they are far from the monsters that history has deliberately painted them out to be.

But of course, it was not enough to completely upend everything that we had thought that we had known the Eva Pilots. It was not enough to smack us with the truth of Rei’s existence or her humanity. We were then confronted with perhaps the strangest revelations of them all.

And that was that the Evangelion Pilots were almost certainly still alive.

One hundred and twelve years have passed since Third Impact, and though people living past a hundred is not unheard of, it is still exceptionally rare. However, even before the leaks, people have pointed that despite the fourteen-year gap between Third Impact and the pilots’ capture, Shinji and Asuka still looked fourteen, when they ought to be in their late twenties. Was this the result of piloting an Evangelion? Some Faustian deal made with Lilith? A result of NERV’s experiments, perhaps?

Whatever it was that kept their youth, it persisted even after their incarceration. Shinji, Asuka, and Rei lived on under the watch of the United Nations for another eight years, and none of them so much as aged a day. What is more, tests ran on the pilots showed that their cells lacked any sort of molecular decay. Quite the contrary, their bodies stalwartly resisted any sort of damage at all. Any wounds were swiftly healed, any diseases immediately snuffed out, with even complete brain death being nothing more than a temporary inconvenience. A rather disturbing but revealing file revealed that all three pilots had attempted suicide a number of different times during the first few years following Third Impact, with Rei Ayanami especially taking painstaking notes on the various methods that she employed and their effectiveness, which was none. There was some speculation as to whether this strange regeneration would persist in the face of total disintegration, but no one was willing to give the go-ahead to check.

Regardless, the case was clear. Whether it be an undeserved blessing or an ironic curse, the three Eva pilots had been afflicted with some sort of immortality, frozen forever in time from the moment of Third Impact. As such, despite the decades since, they are no doubt living today, unchanged from those historical photos.

Unfortunately, there seems no way to actually check, as they are very much gone. As stated before, eight years into their incarceration, they simply vanished without a trace. A thorough, yet discrete investigation into the matter took place, during which a conspiracy sympathetic to the pilots’ plight was uncovered, with a number of UN staffers close to the pilots found to be complicit. However, no one could say where the pilots were now, as their point of release was known only to a small few, and deliberate effort was made not to keep track of them after they had been released.

Which means that Shinji Ikari, Asuka Soryu Langley, and, perhaps most unsettling, Rei Ayanami, the three most controversial figures of the last century, are currently loose somewhere in the world. Perhaps they are wandering the forests of the Americas, the deserts of Africa, or perhaps even returned home to Japan. Perhaps they took on new names, disguised their appearances, and are now living in some suburban home somewhere, or returned their old life from before incarceration and joined one of the many refugee camps in one of the cities slow to recover. They could be in a small Swedish village, in a cabin in the Australian outback, in a treehouse in the Amazon jungle, or any one of the literally millions of other points on the map.

Naturally, there has been much talk about finding them again, some wishing to make amends and publicly make up for the blame that they had been forced to shoulder, others feeling that they still had not repaid their debt to society and should be returned to imprisonment. And there are still others that do not care for either side, but instead insist that they remain a clear and present danger, that more was changed about them than granting them eternal life, that they are inhuman monsters fully capable of ending the world again and need to be stopped. But whatever the motive, something almost everyone agrees on is that they do need to be found.

And I am here to offer up a dissenting opinion. Regardless of whether you love them, hate them, feel bad for them, or feel threatened by them, the Evangelion Pilots should be left alone. This, I feel, would be best for everyone.

Whenever the exploits, positive or negative, of the pilots are brought up, there seems to be a sort of hierarchy to the degree each one is discussed. Shinji seems to be the one brought up the most, as he is still unquestionably the trigger-man of Third Impact. Asuka comes next, given everyone’s complicated feelings toward her and her swaths of supporters. After that is Rei, who, even before her survival was discovered, still occupied a very contentious place in history as the monster who directly ended the world. And then there is Kaworu Nagisa, perhaps the greatest enigma of them all, a half-Angel/half-human artificial being like Rei, created specifically by SEELE as a countermeasure to any possible treachery on NERV’s part, but was killed by Shinji Ikari before his plans could come about, and yet seems to have played as vital a part in Third Impact as Rei, but by the same token, apparently did not see resurrection like she did.

But there is a fifth name that is often forgotten in those discussions, a fifth Evangelion Pilot. And that is none other than Touji Suzuhara the Fourth Child.

It is not that Touji is totally unknown, but he exists in the public consciousness as a sort of footnote, a trivia question at best. Though he was selected as a pilot and given an Evangelion of his own, his Evangelion became possessed by Bardiel, the Thirteenth Angel, during its first test run, leading to its destruction. And though he survived, Touji was critically injured in the process, and with no Evangelion to pilot, he quietly left the program to fade out of history.

In a way, Touji was perhaps the luckiest one of them all. The early destruction of his Evangelion protected him from having to participate in the mentally harrowing battles against the Angels, and he was spared of being an active participant in Third Impact. Even afterward, he was part of the first wave of people to emerge from Instrumentality, even reuniting with most of his family and many of his friends, going on to live about as full of a life as one could in those desolate circumstances. And while the tides of history have mostly washed over him, some effort was made to locate him. During Shinji and Asuka’s trials, once it was discovered that he was among the refugees recovered from Tokyo-3, there were multiple news outlets attempting to seek him out for interviews. However, they were far too late, as he and his family were long gone.

And I know all of this, as Touji Suzuhara was my great-grandfather.

I have very little memory of Touji. Though he lived much longer than most, he at least was spared the immortality that afflicted the other pilots and passed away when I was six, and what little I do recall about him paints a picture of a quiet, reserved old man. However, in interviewing various members of my family, I was told of someone who made every effort to flee his past but was unable to fully shake its shadow. I heard stories of bullying and harassment in those early refugee camps, of the other survivors trying to blame him and his family for what had happened, much as Shinji and Asuka would be publicly blamed later. It got to the point that as soon as they were rescued and carried away from Tokyo-3, his whole family changed their names and fled, disappearing into a still-chaotic world to find a place where nobody knew them.

In time, they succeeded, eventually settling in Austria. Though they had nothing and did not even know the language, that mattered little as very few of their neighbors had much either, and they were far from the only immigrants wandering in. There, they were able to blend in, carving out a niche for themselves and building something resembling a life, and no one ever discovered their connection to history’s so-called greatest monsters.

But even so, my great-grandfather never forgot. Though he never neglected his family and tried his best to provide for them, everyone that I spoke to made him out to be a broken man, someone who had lost the light in his eyes, who would smile very little and always seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. It was forbidden to speak to him of the time before Third Impact, and the very few times he did talk of it, it was from the viewpoint of someone who never truly left Tokyo-3, haunted by ghosts.

Touji might have been forgotten by history, but he bore his scars. Unfair blame was placed upon my family’s shoulders for what had happened, and we know all too well what it is like to be made scapegoats by the those who need someone to blame for their suffering. And though I have never met Shinji Ikari, Asuka Soryu Langley, or Rei Ayanami, and know about as much about them as everyone else, I at least have some measure of understanding of how unfairly they’ve been characterized. And I am sure that they desire validation about as much as they deserve further condemnation, which is to say, not at all. As such, I feel that the kindest thing to do would be to just let them be. Wherever they are, leave them alone to seek their own peace. Because I assure you, they have paid for their sins in full. They pay every day, remembering their part in the previous world’s death.

And to those who still think them a threat, who still believe that they possess the power to once again end the world despite no evidence to back that up, consider this: they have had ample opportunity and reason to wield that power, and yet never have. As such, perhaps it would be best not to provoke them?

No matter how you feel about the Evangelion Pilots, I see little that can be gained by seeking them out. They have taken more than their fair punishment, and would likely shun any reward. And as the descendant of one of their number, I say, let my great-grandfather’s companions be and move on. We have all suffered enough.

#neon genesis evangelion #(after)life #fanfic #shinji ikari #asuka langley soryu #rei ayanami #toji suzuhara #asurei #asushin #reishin #asureishin

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gemsofgreece · 3 months ago

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Hello! I apologize if this is bad timing, but is there any way a foreigner can help with the wildfires? Maybe there are charities or organizations handling current fires that could use donations or something of the kind?

Thank you, and you don't have to respond! I only approached you because you seem knowledgeable, you don't have to do the educational work :)

Thank you so much for considering donating / supporting those affected by the fires. For the time being, I wasn’t able to find any open charities addressed to foreign people. I will keep looking just in case. If any Greek here knows any valid organisation accepting donations for the wildfires from abroad, please tell us.

If you ask me, honestly the best thing you can do right now is that should it ever come up to a conversation or a post or anything, just spread the awareness that this problem has got so monstrous dimensions across the country due to human mistakes and mass arsons, a lot of which are suspected to have questionable motives (I mean, beyond the standard motive of being an evil person lighting a fire just for the sake of it). It is crucial to spread this awareness because most people outside of Greece and the Mediterranean believe this is exclusively due to climate change and that Greece now has totally unnatural temperatures that cause these fires. This is not the case. Climate change is a factor for sure but wildfires have been happening since at least the sixties anyway. Nevertheless, 90% of the tragedies in the last 10 - 20 years are due to human neglect or criminal activity and not the climate crisis and this criminal activity grows exponentially every year while the government either is not able or not willing to confront, let alone solve the problem. So, again, if you want to offer in some way, spread this knowledge if ever given the chance. Knowing the true problem, exposing it beyond the borders, is what can mayhaps put pressure on the authorities, because for the time being they are hiding behind the convenience of the climate crisis and they are like “boohoo there’s nothing we can do, nobody can defeat the pLaNet’s WRatH”. Remember, the extensive, uncontrolled arson only exacerbates and accelerates rapidly the effects of the climate change. But they try their best to gloss over this except for the times the arsonists are caught in the act, when they have no excuses. There are already studies showing that Greece’s climate is fast morphing to an Egyptian / North African climate due to the hundreds of thousands of hectares burned annually. Athens has lost more than one third of its forests in the last 7 years. The second largest island of the country, Euboea, lost 85% of its uniquely beautiful forests three years ago and it keeps being set on fire still. Last year a 1% of the freaking entirety of the country was burned. A fire has been burning a forested mountain in the north for 29 days nonstop and nobody bothered to try to put it out until it poured rain on it a few days ago.

I can’t speak for other countries but I believe part of the wildfire problem at least in Albania, Turkey, maybe less so even in Italy and Portugal and other countries are due to questionable motives associated with privatisation of environmentally protected land and investment. This is happening outside of the Mediterranean too. I believe this to be a problem extending way beyond Greece, however I think Greece is among if not the most notorious for these wildfire causations in Europe.

#greece #signal boost #europe #wildfires #coals of Greece #anon #ask #lovely people #things that make my day #Greek facts

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velidewrites · 2 years ago

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Genuinely tired of ACOTAR's worldbuilding not being explored to its full potential so please enjoy my take on the geopolitical environment of Prythian and its Courts (extremely chaotic but I tried)

Long post ahead

The Spring Court

So much more than "a rolling green land." The Spring Court has been ruled by Tamlin's family for generations.

Millenia ago, a powerful beast born by the Cauldron roamed the South of the island. With the Mother's touch, legend says, the beast had become man—and the very first High Lord of Spring. Yes, it was nothing but a landscape of rolling green hills and forests on the horizon—at first. But that changed until the Beast's three sons grew into their power—and challenged their father for his land.

To appease his sons, the High Lord had split his land into three Territories, each to be governed by one of his children.

The First Territory spanned over the wilderness at the very south, from the lush forests of vibrant green, inhabited by Fae and humans alike, to the great wide sea at the island's border. Centuries later, after the War, the First Territory shrunk, limited by the power of the magical Wall. Now, it acts as the primary defence of the Spring Court from the Mortal Lands, and home to the less civilised, murderous Lesser Fae like the bogge. When they don't serve the High Lord at his Manor, the Spring Court's military resides in the First Territory.

The Second Territory initially was the small scrap of land at the West, as the High Lord's second son was the most greedy and as such, the least favourite of the Beast's children. Unfortunately for him, his greed was equal to his power, and it was the second son that had eventually defeated his father and brothers, ultimately taking his place as the Spring Court's rightful ruler. Over his rule, the Second Territory expanded from the West to the land's very centre. Today, it is home to most of Spring Court's residence, High and Lesser Fae alike. Due to its proximity to the prosperous Summer Court above, and the Kingdom of Hybern across the sea, the Second Territory thrives on marine trade. Most of its residence have found their occupation in the fishing industry.

The Third Territory was home to the High Lord and his youngest, favourite son. Spanning over the East side of the Court, it has the most beautiful sights to offer. The Third Territory is home to the wealthy to this day—the nobility of the Spring Court, and the High Lord Himself.

The Spring Court enjoys one of the largest lands in Pythian, and up until Amarantha's reign, it had been one of the most prosperous. Is there any hope for the Court's future left?

The Summer Court

Unlike the Spring Court, the Summer Court's governing body had changed multiple times over the centuries—and with it, so did the Court's landscape.

The very first Court (or so general history says) to host a real city, the Summer Court's pride and jewel is Adriata. The sandstone-made cliffside location enjoys beautiful beaches and castle-like homes for the wealthy to enjoy. A popular vacationing destination, Adriata is mostly inhabited by High Fae Lords of the Summer Court—though with the new High Lord, the young and ambitious, this regime is thought to change very soon.

Due to the mountainous North within its borders, most of the Summer Court's citizens reside in the South. Those in close proximity to the Eastern sea are experts in marine trade, and, similarly to the Second Territory in Spring, mostly engage in fishing and marine craftsmanship. Up until Amarantha's rule, in fact, Hybern was the Summer Court's primary importer of ships and other aquatic modes of transport. As such, the Southeastern part of the Court has seen many developments in infrastructure, with small towns modelled after the great Adriata gradually appearing on the coastline.

Due to strategic convenience, the High Lord of Summer resides below the forests of the West. The close proximity to the Spring and Autumn courts allows for easy communication, guaranteeing quick access should a need for a diplomatic visit arise—something that proved particularly useful during the Great War with Hybern.

The Autumn Court

The Vanserra family established its rule over the Autumn Court after the very first High Lord mysteriously passed with no heirs. Since then, the fire-wielding High Lords have held the land in their tight grasp without the intention of ever letting go.

Due to the majority of the area being veiled in forests, the majority of the population specialises in one of two crafts: hunting or lumber. With the latter being the Court's sole export, a great emphasis is placed on educating the youth on the importance of the industry. In fact, young Autumn Fae are sent into the forest with nothing but an axe for an entire week as a sort of initiation process. If they make use of the tool by hunting and building adequate shelter and survive the seven days, they are deemed as worthy citizens of the Court.

Aside from the High Lord and his family, residing in the Forest House, the Court is governed by four High Fae lords, each presiding over lumber extraction in one of the four areas of the Forest—the North, the South, the East, and the West. The Lords report monthly on their area's performance, and are rewarded with generous compensation if the High Lord deems it satisfactory.

Mysteriously, the High Lord himself opts to reside on the East of the Court, about as far away from Autumn's shared borders as possible.

The mountainous North remains another mystery. Rumour has it that Autumn's highly skilled military resides and trains there from birth until their services are finally required. The harsh conditions provide a strict training regime, and as such, Autumn's warriors are notorious for their survival skills.

The Winter Court

With most of its land frozen and barren, the Winter Court is very strategic in its locations. The Great Tundra at the Court's centre remains largely unoccupied to this day—with sightings of strange, fur-clad creatures roaming the land being reported every now and then. Their murderous instincts led the Court's citizens to take up residence in the West—where the proximity to the sea provides more habitable conditions. The North, unfortunately, remains a dangerous territory due to its shared border with The Middle and its deathly, mysterious creatures.

As such, the East is where most of the Court resides, including the High Lord himself. The Winter Palace is closest to the North, build upon a mountain overlooking the East's Settlements. Each Settlement is a relatively small territory, overlooked by the Court's nobility. The Winter Court is reported to have approximately six Settlements.

After restoring relations with the Solar Courts, the Winter Court is eager to open up settlements in the mountains, with reports of the Middle's threats having significantly decreased after the War with Hybern.

The Dawn Court

Unrivalled in its beauty, the Dawn Court is a land of quiet peace.

Eager to admire the sun rise every morning, the Court's residents mostly live in the mountains in the South, unbothered by their shared border with the Middle. Their firm belief is that no evil creatures could ever do harm in a place of such beauty.

Most of the West side of the mountains is inhabited by regular citizens who, over the centuries, have built cities of immense elegance and architectural genius. The buildings seemingly grow out of the stone and connect the mountains together, creating one, large community.

The East is home to the Peregryns, winged Fae of the utmost grace who mostly act as the Court's aerial legion. They watch over the cities of the West, patrolling the mountains daily and reporting on any dangers that may arise.

The High Lord of the Dawn Court has always resided at the Palace, a stunning structure in the Northwestern Mountains, so high they rise above the clouds themselves. Beneath those mountains there is a beautiful, fragrant land that is home to monthly Festival of the Moon and Sun, where all of the Court's citizens gather to celebrate the sky above.

The Day Court

A land of the sun, embraced by its warmth. The Day Court truly has it all—the Eastern beaches that rival Adriata in their beauty, the Western cities carved from marble and stone, and the spectacular mountains up North.

The East is a popular holiday destination, and the High Lord is known to host lavish events of such magnitude that some have deemed the tradition scandalous. Credit must be given where it's due, though—prior to Helion Spellcleaver's reign, the land was largely unused, its beautiful sights overlooked for the past few centuries. The High Lord's involvement in rebuilding the Eastern infrastructure has significantly boosted the Court's economy, with many citizens opting to move across the land and live a prosperous, relaxed lifestyle.

Although much of the West had been ruined over Amarantha's rule, the Day Court's great cities have been quickly rebuilt given the resolve of the High Lord and his subjects. The cities of Day are now the greatest in Prythian, and are leaders in research and innovation. The most renowned scholars, historians and magic users alike, have stemmed from the Day Court's institutions.

The High Lord himself resides in the Southwest, his cliffside Palace providing some of the most spectacular views in Prythian. The residence overlooks the capital city, the very first one of its kind in any of the courts, which is a treasury of knowledge. Hosting the High Lord's libraries, the city draws in people of all Courts, and, after the shattering of the Wall—even some brave humans.

The Night Court

Perhaps the most secretive Court of all, life in the Night Court happens beyond the mountains, which act as the primary line of defence. The Court of Nightmares presides over this area, though only its military is ever granted access above the mountains—most of the citizens live underground.

The Court of Nightmares is governed by Hewn City, which directly reports to the elusive High Lord. The entire nobility gathers there, plotting in the shadows. Due to its sheer scale, the Court of Nightmares splits into small areas called Cities. Each City lies under one mountain, all governed by the primary Hewn City and kept in line by selected Emissaries.

Beyond the Court of Nightmares lie the Illyrian lands—the Illyrian Mountains and the Illyrian Steppes. The large area is home to the Illyrians, winged Fae of great strength and power who, similarly to the Peregryns, compose most of the Court's military. Still, because of historically prevalent animosity between Illyrians and the High Fae, the Illyrian legions mostly steer clear of the Court of Nightmares, letting their own military patrol the area.

On the West lies the most heavily guarded secret of Prythian, if not the entire world. Velaris, the City of Starlight, is home to tens of thousands of Fae. The Night Court citizens residing in Velaris enjoy a life of serenity, with the city's infrastructure providing them with their every need. Velaris is also home to the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court.

Between the Northeast and West lies a small island which belongs to the Night Court. The Prison is a place avoided by all Fae and visited only by those desperate enough to risk their lives at most, and sanity at the very least.

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notquitejiraiya · 2 months ago

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9 Years

Well, here we are again. Back to spew some nonsense you could’ve done without about fic writing and otherwise. As a small introduction to myself, if you miraculously come across this before anything else I’ve done online: hiya, I’m Becks. When I was fifteen years old I decided that I was going to create a Naruto specific blog to post fanfiction on and 9 years later, I’m still here.

This is only my third reflection of those 9 years, the first and second of which you can find linked respectively, but it’s the 24th of September, and so here I am, ready to continue a tradition set by the wonderful @unioncolours of documenting her years in fandom. Sink your teeth in below the cut off if you so wish. If not, have a wonderful day ♥️

Before I talk about myself, a little thank you to her, to Bex. Two days ago, she posted what I consider to be her most powerful reflection yet, and I command the lot of you to read it, feel it, and walk away demanding you treat yourself and others kindly for this year and all those to come. Her heartfeltness and honesty is something all of us should learn from, and it is an honour to share my forename, space, fandom, world with her. Thank you, Bex, for all you do, here and away.

Now, the first thing I must address about this Rebecca here is “job no1”, as I called it in last year’s recap. “Job no1” was to become more concise.

It is safe to say that I did not get hired for “job no1.” Not yet, anyway. Perhaps on the future. Maybe. We’re still in the interview stages, and you know how many rounds these things take.

To set the tone of this past year, I will admit that it is the 24th of September, not just when I post this reflection, but as I write it. As mentioned, I have only written two recaps of this sort in my fandom career, both of which were written ahead of time and posted on the day with little stress. This one is being bashed out when the sun is already setting, and time is running out.

Time is something that has fascinated me for years; it’s something I’ve written scientifically on, written fiction about in short spells, and something I’ve come to respect a bit more over the last year, too. It’s something I’ve especially enjoyed playing with and writing about in the one fic that I’ve published/added to this year. In Grandmaster, one of my favourite passages from the fic and one of the bits I’m most proud of involves time. But I won’t dwell on that. Grandmaster — or GM, as I affectionately call it — will get its moment later on. For now, let us focus still on time.

I’ve had a strange amount of it this past year. I wouldn’t say I’ve had too much, nor particularly little, on average, but I certainly feel as though I have. Even if not, it’s slipped away from me, and this year that feels rather damning. You see, as you might know, I live in Finland at the moment. I say ‘at the moment’ because this time next year, when I’m writing my next recap, that will no longer be true. I already no longer live 40 minutes from the front door of my best friend — moving in the summer upped it to almost an hour — and by next year I won’t be able to jump up, hop on a train and see her when the mood (and life) suits. Many rather saddening things have hammered home time to me since last September, but even considering that one thought makes time seem rather fleeting. I need to treasure it until the summer, and so forgive me if my time at my laptop is a little less than it once was.

More relevant to you reading this, perhaps, is the amount of this year that I have been able to spend writing. Without examining the statistics, I feel like I’ve barely written this year. I know that that is ultimately not true; I have made good progress with GM, and have written snippets of works to come. But I still feel as though I haven’t had the time in year 9 that I would’ve liked, and even less than the small amount I dared to expect.

In the time I did spend writing, though, I largely spent it on GM, so it only feels right that I dedicate a sizable portion of this recap to that fic.

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that GM has consumed me. I view the world through a different lens having conceptualised, written, and frankly breathed the world in that story. I see situations in the real-life chess, and I imagine where that might happen in the GM-timeline, were it there. I see the people I envision when the scene play out like theatre performances in my head, and I think about GM, even when it’s totally irrelevant. Even just a face. I hear songs, and I think about GM. I watch movies, and I think about GM. I sit on the bus or god forbid the train, it rains or it shines, and I think about GM.

I have never, in my life, felt a story in my bones like this. When it ends, which this year it certainly must, I will cry. Don’t get me wrong, I won’t cry because it’s over — I will cry because I will remember all the countless hours that have gone into not just writing but thinking about this fic. It is a part of my daily life and has been for such a long time now. I don’t go an hour, let alone a day, without thinking about it. It has been in progress for over 2 years — during every every wrapup I have written, it has been in progress — and 2 nights ago, I finally posted a chapter, the heart of which I first sent to my friends almost as long ago.

I won’t spoil the contents, as I’m sure many of you may not have read it, but I’ll admit now that I cried as I went to sleep after posting it. It took me three months to be happy with that chapter. Three months. That long to accept a chapter that I knew I had the core, important part of set and the was happy with since almost two years ago. It felt and still feels ridiculous to me. Even three days ago I felt like, surely, I had forgotten how to write. Or maybe I just had never known how to write in the first place. I had lost my touch, at the very least, the very spark that made anyone read more than the first paragraph. How in the world could it be that I manage to write these core lines two years ago, when GMverse was Strangers and only Strangers, yet having honed the voice of this story for so long, I now couldn’t write a single good word?

I felt like such a failure. I felt like there was no way I was ever going to finish it, and if I did, I was sure I wouldn’t be happy with it. But I told myself that I was going to post the fic on Majsasaurus day and so I said, “Fuck it,” to my assignments and I finished it.

I was late hour, but I almost did it. When I read it back before posting, I cursed myself for all the clunky sentences and obnoxious descriptions — which may not even exist, I don’t know — but I still pressed post at the end, and I immediately felt proud of it.

It’s incredible when you realise you can do that. I think perhaps it’s a skill that doesn’t make sense to people when they first start writing. Not giving a fuck, that is. I know I was guilty of it for a very long time, but there’s no point in being a perfectionist, especially if you’re trying to write about realistic people. Real people are so far from perfect that you’re fucking kidding yourself if you waste your time on such things. Year 9 has been a lot about that: settling. Settling for grades in uni I once would’ve beaten myself up over. Settling for a sentence that I know could be worded better, in theory, but I’m not yet the writer who can word it that way. I’ll meet her one day, maybe. But before I get to, I have to mould her. I won’t do that without writing more and more.

In any case, in the words of Shikamaru in my own fic: “They’re just words. They don’t mean anything unless you let them.”

In line with that thought, I want to thank you all for your theories and thoughts and engagement with GM. The fact so many of you have managed to find some meaning or emotion in it that matters to you specifically, even if that differs between people, amazes me daily. It makes me emotional and humbles me and all manner of things I could write an entire reflection on.

It is on that note that, I would like to extend a particuar mention to @twnj who has brought to life so many scenes in GM with her beautiful artwork as well as created so many fun headcanons for outside of it. I am so lucky to have met and to know you, and it is a pleasure being rambly with you, my dear.

I also would like to shout out @backgroundcharacterno5 for creating one of most incredible things I have ever seen by way of this comic. You brought that scene to life more beautifully than I ever could’ve imagined even in my own head, and I cannot thank you enough for thinking of GM at all. Thank you.

And finally, the book club. Learning of your existence blew my fucking mind, and it continues to. I refer to you this way because I do not know exactly how many of you there are, but I bloody love you all, even those of you I have never spoken to. The comments I received from you and from every reader, even if I am shit at replying to them, move me and inspire me endlessly. Your analysis and theories and reactionary comments thrill me and make my heart sing. So thank you. So much.

With GM this past year, I feel I have reached a point as a writer that I never expected to, and am endlessly proud of. I never expected people to be so engaged with something I wrote — I thought I was a one- or maybe two-trick pony with song inspired banter-filled one shots and depressing britishisms. But this year showed me that that isn’t true. Do I have the widest range? No, and I’ve made peace with that. But does that devalue what I make? No. I love it. I have fun making it. And as an incredible, frankly unexpected cherry on top, so do some of you. So thank you for that. You’ve ticked so many of my author bucket list dreams in a single year.

As I have certainly mentioned in past ‘blog’-type posts, there are elements of GM which are personal to me, but in the coming year, I will introduce to you what I consider my most personal fic yet. While I may lend things I have overheard or observed, I rarely let myself into my own work too heavily. I value the power of looking over a shoulder, and do try my best to do that. But I rarely force my shoes on a character.

Piano Man (affectionately referred to by myself and those closest as GMJ) will not be like that either. Not on purpose. It will not be a 1-to-1 retelling of my life, the opinions and feelings and experiences within it will by no means be my own, but it will be an expression of things I love and know more directly than before.

GMJ will be set some 20+ years after Strangers, so I am still not escaping this universe I’ve built for myself (not that I want to escape it). It will follow one of my most beloved characters in Shikadai, and how he meets someone he really ought to have known his whole life, but by chance, has not: Inojin.

Any writing I have done that is not GM this year has been ShikaJIn. I know that many of you who follow me, do so for ShikaTema. I wonder if there are even so many of you now that joined for GM that ‘CHESS’ and ‘Cloud Nine’ are now irrelvant in my list of past fics. But regardless of what you’re here for, and whether you ship them now or not, I hope that you’ll stick around for GMJ. It is not a ship fic anymore than GM is, and I like to think that perhaps you trust me by now to tell you a story you might enjoy.

Besides GMJ I have dabbled in a couple of other potential AUs, the most promising of which is a wartime au, which came about after my dear friend Bex suggested that @clumsydragon28 and I read a book she was reading: In Memoriam. IM was one of the most fun reading experiences I have ever had, and I cannot reccomend reading with your friends enough. The joy is something I can’t quantify, and I will treasure that experience forever.

I myself have read more books this year than I have in years. I haven’t read so many fics, which saddens me, but I am so pleased that there is space in my life for fiction and stories again besides thsoe in my own head.

One of the books of this year will no doubt come when I return home to England for Christmas, because last year, darling Barb sent me (and Bex) a goodie box from across the Atlantic. In it, she placed the US edition of my favourite book: The Beach. It will get loved and cherished this year with its first physical read. I promise.

There are so many other things that I could say here, but ultimately, I don’t know that I have the time. All I can say is that I am so grateful for the people of this fandom space, old friends and new, and even those that have not shown me kindness this past year — you have hardened me to realise I am worth more than I thought.

The next recap I write will mark a decade of notquitejiraiya. That, in itself, seems absurd. But I am certain that I go into it lucky, and grateful, and really really fucking inspired.

Thank you, all, for another notquitejiraiya year. May the next be sweet and full of more frequent updates than the last! ♥️

(PS - I’ll try to be more consice next year, but I’m not making any promises)

#9 years #fucking blimey

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