#a wonderful beautiful disaster of a bastard child

[mollymarmoset]

Tarq (they/it)! it'll bite your face off and laugh as you scream, and then ask why you're running away, we're just playing right? :)

[theomnicode]

Reasons to love OPM & little tidbits #8

Small characterizations details that are easy to miss ep8:

Saitama is more sensitive than people realize

Saitama is an interesting character in the sense that he actually shies away from aggression and violence, but will also not hesitate to take action in the case that he thinks he is actually needed. But even then, Saitama did not have the heart to finish off Boros, despite him wrecking the entirety of city A.

Saitama hasn't had a nice childhood, as many people were hostile towards him for different reasons not his fault, so this sensitivity to hostility and aggression followed him towards adulthood, where he even points out to he small kid riding on his shoulders that "there's no such thing as living well in this world." (Chapter 8.5: 200 Yen, Vol 1 extra)

He's suspicious of authority figures accosting him, he does not like when people criticize him, he's self-conscious about his bald head and does not like bullies, especially those who bully children.

Despite all this, Saitama tries his best to stay on top of things, like keeping tab of weather & disaster channels and news in case a powerful monster appears that other heroes cannot handle, such as Vaccineman.

But in doing so, he's also been doomscrolling when there's nothing but mayhem and havoc on television for him and it has gotten to the point where he experienced compassion fatigue, a diminished capacity to emphatize. The dark circles around his webcomic self speak volumes but has thankfully been averted in the manga, as he seems far less bothered by them now, probably because he's a lot closer to Genos and other people like King. (Chapter 174: Beauty)

Saitama is now seemingly also showing this sensitive side of his more and more often when his emotions are rising to the surface far easier after the Garou fiasco. He timidly peeks behind Blast when human turned monsters are being electrocuted because his body language and the little we see of his face screams that he's actually upset and sympathizes with Hamukichi. (Chapter 196: Threat)

Saitama is also sensitive to outside influence and opinions, such as when he accidentally came down with Child Emperor into the cave and helped them out, but then Child emperor tells Sekingar that Saitama was rescued, not that Saitama helped rescue them. Even after Saitama complimented him for being a great hero, one can see from Saitama's expression that he was hurt and emotionally betrayed when from his point of view, Isamu just takes all the credit. (Chapter 106: Terrible multiplying bastard)

Sekingar even starts to yell at him because he thinks Saitama is just loitering around and not doing anything but could just become another hostage. Poor Saitama, that negative perception bias does not leave him alone and he doesn't deserve to be yelled at.

It's a little wonder he hasn't exploded already- oh wait, he has and he almost destroyed the entire planet. Oops. That was a lot of pent up aggression right there. Peeps rly need to be more kinder to Saitama, one can only take so much of emotional abuse. They're really effectively alienating Saitama because who would want to hang with people if they're being constantly belittled by them, or worse.

As the series progresses, we will no doubt see more of Saitama's sensitivity and reactions and we might even see him lash out more or become sad at criticism thrown at him.

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

The feud

,

So yesterday I started watching the feud, which is about Joanne Crawford, and Betty Davis. It’s obviously produced and directed by Ryan Murphy., because everything he touches turns to gold, let’s look at it or American horror story, American crime story, glee, and I’m sure more of the O.J. Simpson, was amazing.. I haven’t watched the American horror story what ones say but this was just a delight. I’m still watching, very late to the party with things like this.

So let’s start here, these two women had a feud many many years, women are already pitted against each other in the real word, looks, talent, the lot,. Now imagine you’re in Hollywood., let’s say you had a really awful stage mum, was overly close to your mother? Or not at all., and you were kicked out of home, left to fend on yourself, needing the validation and attention of a man and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. Now with Jane Crawford.. I believe this is the case in the show she says to Betty in a close moment, “my mother kicked me out of the home when I was 12, put to the convent?”” what to pursue your innocence., to deserve it.? “oh no, that happened. “and who was the lucky Boy Scout? She continues., she was 11 years old., and it was to her stepdad Mr. Something or other., but we called him daddy, very sad isn’t it? To which Bette Davis says, that’s awful. You were a child., he was a man, very vulnerable moments they both had broken down marriages too. Distance relationships with their children.

This is why these women probably didn’t get along so, so alike, I need to watch the actual film, baby Jane …��. Because on the show it says you can feel how much they hate each each other., and the horrible head of the company, want them to hate each other once animosity once a disaster, because it makes money and it makes stories.

You even have the lady come from the price he’s like a blind item lady almost. Who Joanne talks to a lot. Has got very close with Joanne Crawford, married to his man who was, the head of Pepsi-Cola, which she promoted in all her pictures if she was drinking it. In that last picture you can see of them with the Pepsi you can see Bette joking about it with the sticks joking about it. H hi homage to Pepsi.. but really this woman was in loads of debt they both needed, because aging doesn’t exist in Hollywood the only way is existed you don’t don, you made the money all those years you gave them your looks, your youth and your sanity, you probably even developed a habit to something, cigarettes, alcohol, drugs or prescription medication, all of the above….. to which then they treat you like a crazy old lady. You weren’t allowed to be gay either., that was almost the taboo and it was illegal in some places still, God forbid would you talk to a black actor?, No, this is Hollywood at its worst.

Louis Maher is one of the worst, he would call Judy Garland his little hunchback, he called Marilyn Monroe, a chinless wonder, but God did we see the state of, the people are writing all this so people are saying it the people who were being all these the gravity, into the chat Dan Schneider, I know it’s not the, age, was fond of little girls and their feet, and would use it on his TV shows, in plain sight they have some sick bastards. For example, let’s talk about the recent 2022 film blonde., which is half biopic half made up rubbish of Mary, and almost glamorising her abuse and making her look bad, you could never make Marilyn look bad. That was the thing she was such a beauty. She was such an aura of., vulnerability and class.

Also Joanne was jealous of Marilyn I think, it is alleged that they had a little something together, whether they slept together or something I’m not too sure. But another good site is who dated who you can really get in there and see what went on., and what ages?,,,,, Although I feel really sorry for Judy it’s very sad. How at the time making fun of race with such a thing, because not only a year before Judy Garland, a year before the Wizard of Oz did blackface and a whole film,🎥 I believe this is her awful stage mother yes, I’m back then they didn’t really know what they were doing. It’s still sick but doesn’t make me happy..

I think the third picture down, my mum always says how much I’m like my Nan and my Nan had a, connection with old film stars my Ned and old Hollywood and films and stuff like that and glamour I’m like my Nan, and that third picture down where Joanne Crawford is still relatively young like my mum always says I look like my Nan when she was younger 20s. If I was still in my 20s I feel like I’d still be happy. That’s the problem., I don’t mind about the age it’s the fat I can’t bear, guess it’s like how you feel when you feel old you feel invisible, and my life is just become my sofa and writing, television🖋️. I have a feeling when I get hit before that something good’s gonna happen. I’m, 34 on the 30th of this month.

Anyway, I highly recommend watching this piece of art the feud

[quillsanddaydreams]

i don't like you

james potter x reader

—author's note: This was a story from my main that I adored so I thought why not rewrite it? The plot is the same, my ability to tell a story however, has changed. James and you do not like each other. Not even a bit. I hope you enjoy ;) Please do leave a comment, it makes my day.

—warning(s): couple of harmless pranks, slytherin! gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren't used).

—word count: 3,431

Groaning, you got up and squinted to make out the details of your dorm. Shouts and rushing made your head thump. You slowly realized a god-awful smell was filling up your room, quicker than you could think. Squeezing your nose shut, you rushed out. Other Slytherins were alongside you, you could hear coughing all around. Your eyes pricked with tears, your throat felt raw. Seeing a very familiar messy dark-haired boy run away jeering; you sensed rage gripping your form like a vice.

Third time. It was the third time the same week that Potter and the elder Black brother had pranked you all. Except it wasn’t funny anymore. That was what pranks were supposed to be right? Something that made everyone laugh along? Looking towards Elodie who was clenching her eyes shut at the sensation, you made a plan in your mind. You knew it was crazy. But when did that ever stop you? James had never conversed with you. Nor you, him. Yet it was clear that he did not like Slytherins. Not one bit.

-♡♡♡-

James yawned, stretching his limbs for a new day. Scrunching his nose, he felt a flowery scent attack him. Maybe it was just Sirius with one of his experiments. Shrugging, he got up and into the shower. That day he had transfiguration, charms, and astronomy. Thankfully nothing with the snakes, they might still be sour about the prank they pulled yesterday. Getting out of the washroom, he hummed to himself as he passed Peter who was still fast asleep. Remus was asleep and Sirius was furiously scribbling on his homework. Always finishing at the last moment.

He didn’t realize the uniform he was putting on until he looked at himself in the mirror. And boy oh boy did he panic. Eyes widening almost comically, he rummaged through his wardrobe, everything a dark green color with silver accents. A note fell at his feet.

“Dearest Marauders,

Take this beautiful gift of green robes from me. I know not all of you deserved this, but then again, I didn't feel like any of you should be left behind. I know how much you love us, Slytherins. Why not showcase it?

With love,

(Y/n) (Y/l/n)”

“Sirius! Remus!” he called out. “Wormtail!”

Sirius didn’t even look up from his parchment, Remus let out a grunt in response. The only answer he got was a faint ‘what’ from the shared bathroom.

“Mates listen to this,” James said firmly, reading the letter out loud. That got their attention. “Our robes are all green. Vivid Slytherin green!”

Remus got up suddenly, with wide eyes rushing to check his almirah. He groaned loudly on finding them in the same predicament James foretold grass-like and smelling heavily of flowers. Sirius however, started crackling.

“What?” James bellowed, his nostrils flaring.

“Well, the sarcasm in that letter is…” He snorted, stopping himself seeing James’s frown. James shook his head as Remus glared at them both.

“This has a strong one-week dye,” he said, punctuating each word, infuriated. “There’s no way it can be removed before the expected time. Why should I suffer for all the things you two do?”

“And I am not suffering?” James quipped back as Remus just shook his head, huffing, and went back to his bed. James looked at Sirius who didn’t look worried at all.

“What? Aren’t you bothered at all?” James asked.

“I look great in everything,” he replied shrugging, making James want to punch him.

He dressed up quickly after, dashing out of the dorm towards the great hall. Ignoring the looks of the students from around and the snickers he looked for you amidst the Slytherin table. It was infuriating, how casually you ate your breakfast, almost oblivious. Stalking towards your place, he cleared his throat grabbing your attention. Your eyes sparkled amusedly, taking in his appearance.

“Why the hell did you do this?” he demanded.

“Now, that’s not a way to talk about the gift I gave you,” you said, batting your eyelashes as he scowled at you. You muttered a spell under your breath, waving your wand slightly before continuing. “I worked hard, you know?”

“You Slytherins are the best thing to walk on this planet!” he shouted before he could stop himself. His eyes grew large. Everyone’s attention now seemed to be on your table.

“Thank you, I know,” you smirked, challenging him. He narrowed his eyes on you.

“You put a speaking charm on me didn’t you?” he hissed as you put on an innocently sweet expression.

“Well, I thought you needed some help with words,” you prompted, getting better reactions than you hoped for. James growled, jumping up and down in annoyance. You tried not to laugh. Did. But the corners of your mouth turned up anyways. He looked like an idiot. The giggle you let out grabbed his attention, his cheeks turning a rosy red.

“I don’t like you,” he said in a rather squeaky voice.

“I don’t like you,” you retaliated. James hated himself for thinking the laugh you let out looking adorable. Anger, which was more of a frustration gawned on his skin. He knew exactly what he was going to do next. Giving you a sickly sweet smile, he enjoyed the slight shiver that went through your arm. Let the prank war begin.

-♡♡♡-

You rushed out of the bathroom, vexed. It had been a long exhausting day and this was the last thing you needed. Your skin was tinted green. Bright neon green. Elodie stared at you in stupor.

“What happened?” she asked and you couldn’t help the raucous whine that escaped your lips.

“I don’t know, okay? I was in the shower and after using soap, my skin turned freaking green,” you hissed as Elodie tried to calm you. You handed her a small piece of paper. “Oh and look what I found beside the shampoo bottle.”

Dear (Y/n),

A gift from me, to showcase your pride in your house. You could thank me later.

James.

P.S. This gift in no way means I’ve started liking you. I don’t.

“James. James did this; that bastard!” you said, nostrils flaring as Elodie rubbed your back.

“Well, it’s just hands and legs…”

“I'm gonna get back at him. Just watch me.”

Your jaw clenched. You knew just what you were gonna do. James started a fight with the wrong person. And you didn’t like him. At all.

-♡♡♡-

You were reading your book when you saw James pacing towards you, from the corner of your eye. Trying to keep a straight face, you fixed your gaze on the book in your hand. Yet you couldn’t help the twitch your mouth gave as he stood right in front of you, folding his arms.

“Wow,” he breathed through clenched teeth. You looked up.

“Real mature of you,” he said in a baby’s voice. It sounded like he pronounced everything through his nose. You made an effort not to start crackling right then.

“Well, one of us had to be, right?”

“Yeah. And giving me the baby voice makes you the adult.”

“I’d think so, yes.” You said brushing his hair. They were surprisingly soft. James glared at you.

“I don’t like you.” He squeaked as you raised an eyebrow.

“I thought we already established that. I don’t like you either boy,” You said, letting out a laugh.

-♡♡♡-

Adjusting your cap, you pulled your books closer to you. It was like everyone was staring at you. Specifically how stupid you looked. A whistle caught your attention. James, it had to be. When you turned towards the sound, you were sadly proved right.

“I like your cap,” he commented, clicking his tongue.

“Geez. Thank you. Just bought it,” you said, threateningly. Take one step James, I dare you; you thought. He didn’t get the message.

“I wonder how it would look on me,” he said, taking a step towards you. You hissed.

“Sorry, not gonna let you borrow it,” you tried to say in a normal tone, but it came out quite high pitched. James dared to grin.

“What if I just…” he said, coming closer as you took a step back, glowering at him in a warning. Not that he took it. He snatched the cap from your head as the long white hair fell. They reached your feet.

“James, give it back,” you warned and he put it on his head.

“Nope,” he said, his eyes full of mischief. You hesitated at his expression, he looked as candid as a child. Maybe you never noticed it, his hair fell round in pretty curls, framing his face. James winked, making you break out of your reverie.

“I think,” he said thoughtfully. “I think I’m going to keep this cap with me, I quite like it. If you want it back, you’re gonna have to take it from me.”

James took a step back as your eyes dilated. He turned around and started sprinting in that direction.

“James!” you shouted, chasing him.

People around you bolted aside, gasping at the scene. A ghostly white-haired student chasing after James as he chortled. It had been going for quite some time and everyone wondered who would win. Few in the favour of James, who had been pranking ever since he set foot in Hogwarts; a few for you since you were a Slytherin and Slytherins never lose. Others just shook their heads, wishing they would get it over with already the cat and mouse game was becoming rather tiring. No one however had the courage to raise their opinions out loud, lest they got involved in the prank war.

-♡♡♡-

“James," you said calmly, though the atmosphere made you anything but. Thick hot fumes rose from all around you making beads of sweat form on your forehead. "James, this doesn’t go in. We have to stir it first.”

“Why don’t you do it then? Little miss know-it-all” he snided. You looked at him fiercely. Slughorn had paired the two of you together for the next project and it couldn’t be more of a disaster. Only if he could just listen.

“I would if you let me,” you pointed out, finally taking over the shared pot. James watched you take a few breaths before starting to work on the potion. Muttering for ingredients from him now and then, you stirred the concoction. Soon, it started to show the exact signs given in their books.

James couldn't help but stare at you as you worked, humming to yourself all the while. You seemed cute like that, bending over the book, occasionally muttering to yourself. His face heated up when you caught his gaze. Luckily he could blame it on the heat.

“Could you cut some beetroots for me?” you asked, ignoring the way he flushed. James nodded, chopping them to the required amount. The two of you finished up fairly swiftly after that.

"So," you started after Slughorn left. He had commented on your work and applauded you both. Happiness was evident from the smiles on your faces. "Library at 4?"

James grinned, giving you a thumbs up. He packed up his stuff before turning to leave. You couldn't help but stare at his retreating figure, thinking, maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Shrugging, you shook away the thought and went your own way. There were things you had to get done that day.

-♡♡♡-

As time passed, the thought started becoming more predominant. He wasn't so bad, your mind reminded you time and time again. The more you started to know James, the more you believed in it. Constant teasing and bickering wasn’t something that became unheard of between the two of you. But it was more lighthearted now… almost as if you were friends crackling over a shared joke. James had somehow caught your eye again, in a completely different way.

It seemed you were noticing new things about him, like how he didn’t look at you with hatred. Come to think of it, was it even ever ‘hate’? Yet there was something soft about the way he gazed at you now, gentle even— you couldn’t put your finger on it. You had come to enjoy his goofy personality, the smile he gave when his eyes were light with mischief. Knowing where these musings led, you had tried your best to beat them down. What was it that you did not try? Remembering every single detail that made you despise him once, all those times your blood boiled at the prank he pulled but nothing— nothing ever worked and your heart still fluttered every time he complimented you.

Was it that bad an idea though? Liking James?

You shivered, pulling your sweater closer to you. Walking had failed to heat your body the way it always did and you reckoned that your deliberation also had something to do with that. It wasn’t about you liking him, your mind prompted, it was about whether he could feel the same way. And if you knew something, you knew that you couldn’t take the answer to be no. The skip in your step halted, and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips.

Path to the library couldn’t have been more daunting. That was until you saw James and Lily around the corner. Talking, laughing, and standing too close to be called friends. Evans, the one girl James was head over heels for, the one girl you never paid attention to much.

It was like the final shoe dropping. James and you didn’t like each other. People knew that you did as well. It was time you believed it too. Your stomach twisted up at the sight, your mood souring. You turned, walking away.

“Oi!” James called out to you, apologizing to the students he bumped into. You brisked forward, hoping to make it to your dorm. It didn’t work, James ran to catch up with you. Damn his long legs.

“Stop fucking running,” he huffed on reaching you. “Where are you going? We have a study session. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

You gritted your teeth.

“I was heading to the library but you and Evans seemed quite busy, so I thought against it,” you said, albeit aggressively. Jealousy was never a good color.

“We were just talking for a moment,” James explained. “I want us to complete the project first though.”

He looked at you, confused. It was hard controlling your anger right then. You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped your lips.

“Of course,” you said in a temper. “The faster we finish up the project, the faster you can get rid of me, right? Because you don’t like me.”

James’ smile dropped. Sadness gave way to rage. Of course, you still thought that even after all the time he spent with you.

“Yeah. I don’t like you,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “So let’s complete the project, shall we? To get rid of each other?”

You looked away. It was the last thing you wanted to hear. You yearned for him to tell you otherwise, to apologize for his words, and to reassure you that it wasn’t so. That you two were something. Friends, companions, anything but this. Yet the bigger part of you told you that he was right. And you were nothing to him.

“Yeah, sure.”

-♡♡♡-

The following study session was tense. You two never worked quietly. Jokes, laughs, and incessant chatter filled the air when you were together. James had regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He watched your expression fall and a wall build up around you. Your eyes hadn’t met his since. It ate him up. Somehow he didn’t know how to break the bubble he created.

He hated seeing you close off to him.

You heaved a sigh checking the last lines you’d written and then looked at the clock. It had been two hours.

“I think we should stop. There are just two pages left, we can do them tomorrow and you’ll be free,” you said, packing up your things. James opened and closed his mouth as you picked up your bag.

“Hey, wait!” he said as you turned towards him.

“I didn’t mean to, “ James started, but you cut him off.

“James, it’s alright,” you said, taking a deep breath blinking away the tears that emerged. “I understand. You don’t like me, I don’t like you and we’re stuck together for some time. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

James sucked in a breath. That wasn’t right. At all.

“But—“

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” a voice came and you shifted to see Elodie. You looked over at James, whose eyes pleaded you to stop. But you couldn’t.

You left the library, walking towards your friend leaving behind the boy who stood transfixed at his spot. Why did he feel like he was losing everything? He grudgingly moved his feet towards the common room, your thoughts plaguing his mind. James heard a shout behind him, twisting to see Lily jog up to him.

“James, I was wondering,” she began biting her lip. “Maybe we could sneak out for some butterbeers today? It’s freezing and the snow looks heavenly.”

James found himself shaking his head. His mood was far too spoiled for anything.

“Not today, Lily,” he answered. “I’m tired.”

“Oh, I meant it as a date, you know?” Lily added hopefully. James considered her for a moment. It was everything he had wished for years. Yet he couldn’t feel the happiness that should have come with it. He wanted, no— he needed someone else, someone who made him far giddier. He needed you.

It was like a bolt striking him. He had never been so sure of anything else. Unable to keep the grin off his face, he spoke his next words in a rush.

“Lily, I’m sorry but I can’t,” he shouted, sprinting towards the dungeons. Running through the rather empty corridors he saw the snow which coated the grounds. His breath came out in puffs as he urged himself to move faster. He stopped when something caught his eye. You. Standing out in the snow, looking at the sky with a smile.

Moving towards you, he conjured up a snowball and threw it on your back. Your eyes widened in shock as you jumped, looking towards him.

“What now James?” you snapped.

He conjured up yet another ball and threw it at you. Your eyes grew larger and you glared at him.

“I wanted to say something,” he said as you conjured up a ball and threw it at him in response. He hissed at the icy sensation.

“Then say it.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” he said, throwing a snowball at you as your teeth clattered at the sensation. You threw a snowball in return, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Then stop acting as you do.”

He threw yet another ball at you.

“You make me act like that,” he stated. You threw a huge one in response.

“I make you act like an idiot?”

“Yes, you drive me crazy,” he said, throwing some snow at you as you grunted.

“Then why don’t you leave me alone?” you huffed as he threw yet another ball at you, making you cough and splutter.

“Because I can’t.”

“Why?” you asked, throwing a ball at him.

“Because I can’t leave the best thing that happened to me,” he said, making you stop. You stalked towards him and poked his chest with every word you spoke.

“I'm the best thing that happened to you? What is this? Some kind of sick prank? You don’t even like me,” you sobbed, frustrated and angry. That was how he made you feel. Everything all at once. James didn’t know how to answer you so he just took your hand away and cupped your cheek with his other one, leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes fell shut as feeling his lips against yours. You grabbed his shirt pulling him closer feeling his arms tighten around your hips, sucking his bottom lip. When you pulled away you both caught your breath.

“I promise those are the truest words I’ve ever said,” he whispered, his hair messier than usual. He cradled your face, pressing his lips against your forehead. You crossed your arms.

“I still don’t like you,” you said in faux anger. James let out a teary chuckle.

“I don’t like you either,” he replied, smiling.

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[wouldpollyapprove]

It’s Quiet Uptown: Part One

Request: Hiii, can I request a Tom Shelby x reader where they were a couple until Grace came and he broke up with her but she was pregnant and lose it and he finds about years after that????

Requested by @espacioytiempo

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: language, stillbirth, angst

A/N: First, I know very little about miscarriages and stillbirths, so if this isn’t accurate, I’m sorry. I did some research and tried my best. Second, this made me cry like a baby. I’m not even kidding. I teared up a little at first and that it was a full on river of tears seconds later. I’m so glad no one was home while I was writing this cause that would have been a disaster. I’d like to thank @nemesis729 for helping me with this and I love all you’re ideas, so thank you. I will also be doing a second part.

Part Two / Part Three

Masterlist

“It’s me or her,” Y/n stated, a tear rolling down her cheek. Wiping it away, she already knew it wouldn’t be her.

The decision was a simple one after she’d seen the sparkle in Tommy’s eyes when he’d glance at the new barmaid anytime she accompanied him to the Garrison all those months ago. Y/n wasn’t naive, she knew it wasn’t the reflection from the lights above. There was no scapegoat, no one to blame for what she had seen. As plain as day, it was obvious that Tommy had fallen out of love.

At first, Y/n wanted to believe that he would get over himself. Speaking to his aunt on the subject, she believed the same. Men got bored easily with what they couldn’t have and, if her lover were like any other man, he would do the same. But Thomas Shelby wasn’t any man. He was the man that set his sights on what he wanted and didn’t let up until he held it between his palms. If he wanted Grace the way Y/n believed he did, then he wouldn’t care who got hurt until he got her.

He was an animal in that way.

Tommy sighed, annoyed by the demand. One of many signs that she was already lost to him. “What?” he questioned, biting back venom as lean back in his chair. 

“Pick one,” she commanded, unable to repeat the previous statement. When there was no response, she said, “I see how it is then. Enjoy your whore.”

Walking out of the Shelbys’ shared home, Y/n wouldn’t let herself cry. She hadn’t lost anything worth losing. Tommy had never been hers if he could slip through her fingers so easily. He was a man that answered to his dick, nothing more, nothing less. Not worth her time, nor her heart. She would be better off with a fucking cow than Thomas Shelby.

But he wasn’t the only one to blame for her loss. 

Before the war, Tommy was a loving man. One with a moral compass that guided him through the streets of Small Heath. With his love of horses, he dreamed of training them, spending his days in the stables, between the mares, brushing their tales and taking their reins. The man that returned from the tunnels wasn’t the same, not that anyone expected him to be. But this man…this man was cruel, cutthroat, and greedy. Anything that could be taken, would be taken. He knew no bounds and drew no lines. And there was a hole in his heart that no one could fill…not even his fiancee. 

And, so, it was no surprise that he turned to the Garrison’s former barmaid. She was beautiful, smart, and witty. Grace held herself with class that Y/n would never have. But the woman with class was also the same woman that did her best to throw herself on a taken man, disregarding the fact that she herself had a husband. Y/n was no fool to believe it was all Tommy’s fault. She’d seen the woman flirt with him, even having the nerve to do it in front of her on a few occasions. Grace had read Tommy like a book and knew how to pull a laugh from his throat and put a smile on his lips. Even Y/n hadn’t been able to do that since the war. 

Perhaps, Grace was the only one that could mend his broken soul…. If that were true, Y/n wished them the best.

But now she was left with her own heart to mend and, walking down the empty street, there was only one thing she had to worry about.

A few days later, Y/n stepped off the train, scanning the crowds for the only person she could think of calling. “Y/n,” Ada squealed, rushing over to her. Quickly setting down her luggage, Y/n wrapped her arms around her childhood friend, happy to have escaped Small Heath. “I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“I am too,” she admitted as they broke apart. Grabbing her bag, she followed her friend through the crowded station and to the car that was waiting outside for them. In the safety of the vehicle, Y/n finally asked the question that was bothering her, “Did Tommy tell you…?”

“That the two of you broke up?” She raised a brow, lips turning up in a sad smile. “No, Polly did. Said he was a fool for letting you go.”

She nodded, moving to look out the window as the car moved through the city, Tommy was many things and a fool was certainly one of them. The people that were in and out of view in seconds were nothing compared to those in Birmingham. These people held themselves a little straighter, they wore bright colors that no one where she came from would dare to dream of. The air filling her lungs wasn’t clean, but it was fresh. It sure as hell was fresh. 

Soon they were at Ada’s home and she was showing her guest to her room before asking her to join her for a cup of tea. Y/n couldn’t turn the offer down and soon the pair were sitting in the parlor.

“You know, I don’t know why I left him,” Y/n said, stirring her spoon absentmindedly in her tea.

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, she knew Ada would have to know eventually. “I’m pregnant.”

There it was, out in the open. Y/n hadn’t dared to utter the words until then. Until she felt safe. It was a cruel joke to think that she was going to tell Tommy before she discovered he’d slept with Grace. The conversation that she was hoping would be joyous and full of smiles died once she got a whiff of the perfume that was not her own. 

Ada sucked in a breath, unsure how to approach the subject. “Does Tommy know?” she asked, setting her tea down. Y/n shook her head and Ada grabbed her hand, gently holding it in his own. “What do you want to do about it?

“I don’t know,” she admitted, leaning back in her chair. “I was going to tell him that night. But your bastard brother had another woman in my bed and I couldn’t.” Y/n thought back to the man Tommy used to be, the man she fell in love with. She wanted to believe she could love the man he had become, but that proved to be more difficult than she once thought. And how was she expected to love a man that clearly had fallen out of love with her. “He doesn’t want me anyway, so it doesn’t matter. And you won’t tell him or anyone else for that matter.”

Her friend nodded, knowing what it was like to deal with her brother. “It’ll stay between you and me.” 

And it did. 

What was meant to be a few days stay turned into a permanent residence. Ada refused to let Y/n go back to Small Heath and have to deal with raising her child on her own. She didn’t want to get rid of the baby and Y/n made it clear Tommy would never know. Going back to the place that had caused her so much pain would not only crush her, but Tommy would know the baby was his and stick his nose where it didn’t belong. So, Y/n gave in and took the room across from Karl’s. Ada still had much of the boy’s belongings from when he was an infant and told Y/n she could have them if she wished. 

London then became her home. It was much more glamorous than Birmingham would ever be and it held opportunities that she never imagined. Though, with her growing bump becoming visible under her clothes, Y/n spent most of her days at home. While Ada worked at the library, Y/n would entertain Karl and discuss short stories and novels with James, Ada’s other roommate. The two were very comforting to her, a girl who had never had a proper family. They gave her the support she had always wished for and she knew they would be wonderful people to raise her child around. 

It was late, almost 11 when Ada heard screams from down the hall. James was out for the night, going to the opening of a new club with his boyfriend, leaving Ada, Y/n, and Karl. Placing her book on the nightstand, she pushed off her covers and rushed out of the room.

“Y/n?” she called, hearing the woman’s voice float down the corridor. Entering the other woman’s room, she found it empty, the covers pulled back on the bed to reveal a red stain on the sheets. Sucking in a breath, Ada feared what she would find as she approached the bathroom door. Pushing it open, she fell to her knees to comfort Y/n, who was on the floor sobbing.

“I-I think… I think I lost it,” she cried, a steady stream of tears coming down her cheeks, and clung to Ada like she was her only lifeline. 

“It’ll be okay, Y/n. We’ll call the midwife,” Ada told her, hoping that it would bring the woman some hope, though, she didn’t have any herself. Having only one child, she didn’t know as much about childbirth as her aunt, but she knew there was too much blood on the bedsheets and the floor of the bathroom to be good.  The front door opening snapped Ada out of her thoughts, “James!”

Her shouts carried down the stairs swiftly as she could hear the man’s footsteps against the wood. “Ada?” he asked, standing in the doorway of Y/n’s room. 

“In the bathroom.”

James grew pale when he discovered his roommates on the floor, blood surrounding them. Opening his mouth to say something, he was interrupted before anything could be said. 

“Call the midwife, tell her to hurry,” she ordered him. He made haste to get to the phone, dialing the number of the midwife like he was asked. As he was doing that, Ada helped her friend off the floor and led her to one of the empty guest rooms. 

“It’ll be alright,” she repeated over and over, both for herself and for Y/n. She had to have hope that they would get their desired outcome. She had to.

“Midwife’s on her way,” James told Ada, meeting her in the hallway. “How’s Y/n?”

Ada shook her head, dark brown curls sticking to her face. “I don’t know,” she admitted, biting the inside of her cheek. “With how close she is to her due date, I hope she doesn’t lose the baby.”

“But you think she did, don’t you?” he asked upon catching the sadness that sunk her eyes. 

She nodded, eyes on the floor. “It doesn’t look good.”

There was no life in their eyes when the midwife arrived and Ada showed her to the room Y/n was in. There were no smiles as James fetched what the older woman asked for or while Ada sat by Y/n’s side. 

Tears stung her eyes as Ada was forced to watch her friend deliver her child that she would never get the chance to raise. When the baby was born, Y/n collapsed against the pillows beneath her, sobs escaping her lips. Ada did her best to comfort her friend, the same one who had been there to help her with the birth of her son, but it was no use. There was no comforting a woman who’d lost a child. 

“I want to see the baby,” she croaked, looking Ada in the eye. “I want to see my baby.”

Her friend nodded as the midwife brought the infant over. No cries filled the room as the baby was placed in its mother’s arms. Both women watched, hearts broken, as Y/n pulled the blanket down to see the baby’s face. When both had pictured this moment, there was meant to be a wailing baby, kicking and screaming until it was placed upon its mother’s chest. That wasn’t close to the scene they witnessed.

“It’s a girl,” the midwife told Y/n before going back to cleaning her instruments. 

“She looks just like her father,” Y/n said, a tear rolling down her cheek. 

Peering down at the child, Ada saw her brother in the child he would never get to meet. The child that would never know her own father, never given the chance. “That she does.”

Caressing her daughter’s pale face, she kissed the top of her head, holding her tight against her chest. “I love you, I’ll always love you,” she whispered. “My little Elena. You’re with good people now,” she told the lifeless child. “Your grandmothers are there, they’ll take care of you. They’ll play with you, braid your hair, take you for a picnic.” Sobs racked her body she continued, “And one day…one day, I’ll be there too.”

Ada had to excuse herself, telling the midwife she would bring Y/n a glass of water. The older woman knew better than to believe that, but she understood. Every stillbirth hit her like a bullet. And as much as she wished she would grow used to the pain she witnessed with her line of work, it was only human to feel sorrow and grief when mothers’ lost the children they loved unconditionally. 

Escaping to the hallway, the brunette wasn’t even down the stairs before tears poured out of her eyes and she collapsed on the stairs. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. Y/n deserved to watch her child grow. She deserved to hold her baby when it cried and teach her how to walk. After everything she had been through, she deserved that. And it wasn’t fair that Grace got to carry her brother’s baby, and with the fucking luck of god, do everything that Y/n would be unable to. 

It wasn’t fair.

In that moment, she wasn't angry at God for what he had taken away, she was angry at her brother. This was Tommy’s fault. He was a master at taking away everything that people cared about. It was his fault that Y/n had to deal with the loss of her daughter alone, in a place that wasn’t her home. It was his fault that Ada was the one who had to listen to Y/n’s sobs and tell her that everything would be okay when it never would be. He should have been the one to do that, but Thomas Shelby always got out of the hard work.

When Ada returned, tears wiped away but eyes still red and puffy, Y/n was asleep, exhaustion finally hitting her. “What would you like done with the baby?” the midwife asked, gesturing to the little bundle that sat in a bowl on the dresser. 

Clearing her throat, Ada was at a loss for words. She didn’t know. She never expected to be asked such a thing. “Um, I believe we’ll bury her with Y/n’s family, outside of Birmingham. I think that’s what she’d want,” she nodded, voice breaking. “I’ll make the arrangements and contact you tomorrow.” The midwife nodded, grabbing her bag and the bowl off the dresser.

Moving out of the woman’s way, Ada watched as the midwife left, little Elena with her. 

Three days later, Ada led Y/n, James, and Karl to Y/n’s family cemetery, where they were to bury Elena. It was a miracle they had entered the city without her brothers catching up with them, but Ada had called Polly the night before and her aunt did what was asked of her, no questions, once her niece’s cries came through the line. 

Y/n stood over the small hole in the ground, fresh dirt on one side and a coffin, that should never come in such a small size, on the other. She wanted to cry, to scream, but all her energy was gone. She couldn’t feel anything, her heart lying in the coffin in front of her. Y/n had given all her love to her little girl, believing she wouldn’t end up heartbroken, only for her heart to be torn in two.

The priest’s words fell on deaf ears as the three adults zoned out. Each had been looking forward to the presence of another child in the house. Ada was excited that Y/n would get to live her life the way she wanted with her child and James was thrilled that he would get to be a stand-in uncle for Y/n’s baby. But standing at the foot of the infant’s grave, neither were full of excitement, not an ounce of joy in them since a few nights before. 

Focused on the gravestone, Y/n wished that Tommy was beside her. That he had been by her side the whole time. But he wasn’t. He was fawning over Grace and her unborn child. Y/n doubted he would have done the same if she had told him about their baby the day she left him. He still would have chosen Grace. Even with that thought, she still placed his name on her daughter’s birth certificate and his last name was hers: Elena Rose Shelby. Even if the two never met, she was his daughter and Y/n wasn’t going to deny the world such knowledge.

*~~*~~* Let me know if you would like to be on any of the tag lists.

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Peaky Blinders:@simonsbluee

Thomas Shelby: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

[asexualbuthorny]

Hey I'm back at it again with uncalled for and unwanted opinions on fictional characters. This might be long and entirely just word womit but this my blog and I do what I want.

The fandom I chose to desecrate today is Twisted Wonderland. Let's begin!

Heartslabyul:

Riddle Rosehearts. Love the boy. He a little too strict for me tho. Livin by the rules feels kinda like living on a schedule and I don't vibe with that. Baby has issues. He needs therapy more than he needs a relationship(simps sit down). Would not date him. Good friend material. He just needs to relax a little.

Trey Clover. He's the brother I never had and the father I wish I had. I bet he gives top tier hugs. Would go to him for advice. Would not date him 'cause he's dad. Want him to adopt me. Lovely boy. Very responsible and sensible. Trust him without doubt (daddy kink havers dni /j).

Cater Diamond. Suspishis. I don't know what he's thinking. Cannot trust. Good boy nevertheless. Probably has some issues. Im not a fan of social media so Im not with the whole magicam thing or whatever. Very pretty. Deserves more love. And hugs. Would not date. Good friend material pt.2

Ace Trapolla. More like crappola. Stinky bastard man. If I was there he wouldn't have kneecaps. Would throw hands. Annoying. Needs to get beaten up and put in his place. If he said shit to me I would throw his ass out a window. Would not date. Hardly a friend.

Deuce Spade. Wonderful boy. Sweet angel. Love him. Best boy! Best boy! Best boy! Has my heart. Would trust him. He may be dumbass but I vibe with him. A personal favourite. Would date. Would marry. We could raise chicks together. Dream boy. My heart is filled with love when I think of him. 10/10. A good friend and a potential lover.

Savanaclaw:

Leona Kingscholar. DISGUSTANG. STINKY. AWFUL BASTARD MAN. Leona simps get help. This man smells like pee. Lazy. Can't do shit by himself. I don't know if he's aware but if he wasn't royalty nobody and I mean NOBODY would deal with his shit. And his attitude like cool you can always fail and get held back 'cause you have daddys money and can go back home and live with your parents your whole life but not everybody has that kind of priviledge. That kind of ungratefulness just make my brain angry. Would not date. Not a friend. Would not deal with his shit. Throw hands on sight.

Ruggie Bucchi. Sneaky. Needs money. I understand Im broke too. Don't have much to say about him. Doesn't occupy much space in my head. Would not date. Hard to trust. May be a friend. He would probably rob me. Disrespectfuly.

Jack Howl. Good boy. Deserves the best. Very responsible and has a good sense of justice. A little too serious. Calm down. Tsundere. Want to pet them ears tho. Another best boy! We can all agree that he's a favourite among the fans. Would not date. Very good friend.

Octavinelle:

Azul Ashengrotto. Shady. Not trustworthy. Responsible. He runs a restaurant while being a top student. I can respect that. Very smart. Insecure. Don't worry bb we all been there. I like him. But he's still bastard. But like less. Idk. Would date but barely. Maybe a friend. Again barely.

Floyd Leech. Crazy mf. His simps are masochists I don't take critisism. He would fold us all like lawnchairs. Don't think about him much. Not my cup of man. I like his voice tho. Kinda cute. Can't trust tho. Would not date. Friend but very carefuly.

Jade Leech. Scary. This man knows things. Sells your secrets on the black market. Polite. Dangerous. Not much to say abt him. His simps rub me the wrong way. Would not date. A person I know from school but not a friend.

Scarabia:

Kalim Al Asim. Very friendly. Sunshine boy. Lively child. Very naive. I would fool him for the lols. Give him many hugs. I don't like parties so we wouldn't vibe on that. He could teach me new games. Rich boy. Probably buys his friends expensive shit and thinks it's a small present. Could date. Makes a better friend tho. Take me on a magic carpet ride pls.

Jamil Viper. Sneaky pt.2. Can't trust after the shit he pulled. Can forgive but not forget. He's a lot smarter than he looks. Even if already looks smart. Can cook so that's a plus. Big respect to people that can cook. He would fool me for the lols. I would fall for it every time. He knows things. Sells your secrets pt.2. He wants to break free. Would not date. Friend but very very carefuly.

Pomefiore:

Vil Schoenheit. We would not get along. Im very live and let live and he sticks his nose in other people buisiness. I don't care how I look and he's very aesthetic oriented. He would call me ugly. I would call him a bitch. We would throw hands on sight. Argue every day. I would hide and defend Epel from him and his bullshit. He's dedicaded to his thing and has a succsesful career so I can respect that. But he still a bitch.

Rook Hunt. Don't trust him. He's french. Creepy. Poor beastpeople tbh. Can't say much about him. I bet he writes superb poetry tho. 10/10 would listen. Would compliment me. Don't know if genuine. Would not date. Decent friend tho.

Epel Felmier. Arson buddies. Commit crimes together. Call Vil a bitch toghether. He wants to be buff and I can get behind that. He could beat my ass and I would let him. He's kinda like a little brother who you teach how to get away with murder. We would beat everones ass. Good boy. Best friend. Would not date. We would rule the school.

Ignyhide:

Idia Shroud. I could beat his ass. Wouldn't tho. Not worth it. Incel. Gets zero pussy. Probably stinky. Would still try to befriend. Bully him lovingly. Gatekeeper. Anxiety. Me too tbh. Not much to sqy about him. Roast marshmellows on his head. Would not date. Could be a friend.

Ortho Shroud. A child. We could be friends. I would teach him swearwords. Good boy. Don't know much about him. Friend material.

Diasomnia:

Sebek Zigvolt. Why he so damn loud? Like calm down boy. Still very good and dedicaded. Could not be in relationship 'cause he has other things on his plate. Tries to be responsible. Still a disaster dumbass. Love the boy. Would not date. Good friend.

Silver. Don't know much about him. Like what are you hiding sleepyheadass? Seems like a nice good boy. We could take hella naps together. Would not date. Befriend him.

Lilia Vanrouge. Dad/grandpa vibes. Would take care of me while Im sick. I would get poisoned by his cooking. HE GIVES THE BEST HUGS YOU CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND. Father I wish I had pt.2. Trickster. Would tease me. I still love him. Welcom to the fam. Would not date because him grandpa.

Malleus Draconia. THIS MAN. Im looking respectfuly. Gorgeus. Beautiful. Stunning. My husband. Give him love and hugs and kisses. I would marry this man. My sunshine my starlight. Im such a simp for him. Who wouldn't want a cool dragon husband. He owns my heart and my ass. 100000000/10. Would die for him. Bestest boy. My love please come to me.

Wwwaaaa this was long. I might post something strictly about relationships if I feel anything again some time soon.

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

#i wonder what your thoughts on diaspora in hetalia are#cause its a pretty interesting topic (the post in question)

@urmomsstuntdouble a collection of things that I think about on a semi-regular basis below the cut (also thank you for the tags!)

Disclaimer: I think this turned into more of a discussion of immigration and immigrants, but I hope this strikes your fancy anyways 😅. Also this got SO LONG and I explained quite a bit of history (because idk whether anyone knows much about this), so the key thoughts will be bolded!

My thoughts are kinda complicated about this tbh; it’s weird, because if China really did exist as a personification in real life, we’d probably both be judging each other, just for different reasons 😅.

General Hetalia Cases

I think when discussing immigrants/diaspora, you have to think about why different immigrants left. @cupofkey kinda discussed that a while ago (if anyone hasn’t seen this superb post, GO READ IT NOW) about the Vietnamese diaspora, and I think there’s some of that in every country. How do the immigrants feel about the home country? Why did they leave: because of hard times, poverty? Political instability/revolution/war? Opportunities overseas? Are they doing well in their new home, or still struggling? Does their new country treat them like foreigners or outcasts, unworthy of even arriving, or doing anything besides menial labor, or have they been welcomed (rather unlikely)? Do they hate their home country (politically), or miss them? Would they ever go back, not just to visit family or the place of their birth, but to return permanently?

I think on the whole, hetalia nations would still maintain a connection to their immigrants, especially since most are still in touch with their culture, although they’ve crossed borders or changed nationalities. (However, the angst of not being as in touch with your culture as you think you should is so real; would our home countries be disappointed? Or do they sympathize, somehow?) In the end, we’re all the same that way. Plus, the alternative thought of them just disowning immigrants feels weird; I don’t even know how that would be possible. But I think that connection gets complicated by the reason people left, and their feelings for their place of origin; I’ll be using APH China and Chinese Americans as an example to discuss this hksdgsdf (sorry I don’t want to do more research than necessary and I have Thoughts about this)

**OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER that immigration/diaspora discussions are almost always case by case and will vary greatly based on things like country of origin/race/ethnicity, country immigrated to, initial socioeconomic status, time period, etc. And even among diaspora, people can and will have vastly different experiences, and it’s not good to generalize. These are just some thoughts with one example.**

1. Waves of Immigration 

Depending on when people arrive, they’ve got different push/pull factors drawing them to a country and it also factors into how the nation feels about them and vice versa... Chinese immigration to the US has mostly two major waves (you could also say there were 3, counting the post-WWII/Communist China wave, but I won’t talk about that): one in the mid 1800s and the other after the 1970s/1980s into modern day; the gap is because the Chinese Exclusion Act (1882) that banned most immigration from China wasn’t repealed until 1943 (because of Japan’s attack on the US in WWII, the US needed China as an ally).

IMMIGRATION WAVE 1: MID 1800s

These immigrants were mostly from southern China (Canton area), and they came to the US because of hard times (Opium Wars + political instability because of things like the Taiping Rebellion) and economic opportunity in the West (eg. Gold Rush (San Francisco is literally “Old Gold Mountain” in Chinese today) + industrialization, railroads, expansion etc.). There was Much Discrimination against those immigrants, and many worked as hard laborers in a variety of occupations (on railroads, gold mine, farms (in the South esp), laundry businesses; there were merchants as well, but they were the minority); many were looking to get some money that they could send back to their families in China and planned to return, but over time, they settled down and stayed. I think for those immigrants, Yao would definitely be understanding, even if he might not be empathetic. After all, he’s not thriving at that time either, and although he thinks Alfred is inferior to him (in many ways), he understands why people would be drawn by economic promise and quick wealth, even if it might not be the best strategy for getting rich. It’s not like staying in China would be better lmao. However, I don’t think he would approve (?) how many of his immigrants stayed in the US when most viewed it as a temporary move; I think Yao is very surprised by how so many of them persisted to carve out a home there, despite the discrimination and limited opportunities. Perhaps he admires their resilience, the creation of Chinatowns and community and how they still come to a country that doesn’t even let them in (see the San Francisco Fire of 1906 and the boon for paper sons), but still wishes they would come back, however unlikely that hope is. Personally, Yao would never be able to stay in Alfred’s country, the beautiful country, if Alfred’s hypocrisy prevented his experience, his immigrant’s experience, from being anything close to beautiful. (You were founded by immigrants and foreigners, but now you spurn them: the poor sojourners who continue to flee to your shores, and refuse them respite from the disasters at home.) And anyways, Alfred is just the next scrappy young upstart, barely 70 years old but with a swagger like he rules the world; how could he have something over himself, the Middle Kingdom, who has stood the test of time? (Admittedly, he’s doing nowhere as well as Alfred—even he can see that, despite his pride, and despite the haze of opium in his brain. Leaving is the logical, objectively sound choice. Still, his pride hurts vaguely when he thinks how his immigrants keep choosing a country that keeps rejecting them, over and over again, instead of himself. But it is no matter. The injury to his ego is inconsequential and easily brushed aside; for they are still his people, and they deserve a good life, wherever they are. His distaste for Alfred flares up again: Arthur’s bastard child, who takes advantage of his trade (see the Open Door Notes, 1899-1900), but refuses his people.)

if anyone wants more context or is interested in the history I mentioned, I highly recommend this pdf (from the book A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural America by Ronald Takaki)

IMMIGRATION FROM 1949 TO 1980: according to Wikipedia, there was very little immigration from mainland China during this period due to the Cold War and China becoming Communist; most of the immigration was from Taiwan/ROC but counted in the quota for China. Since there’s a separate Hetalia personification for TWN, I’m not going to go over that. However, there were also many people from Mainland China who escaped to Hong Kong, still a British colony, during that period (I hope it’s clear why, but if anyone asks I’ll put it in a separate post); some stayed there, while others emigrated to the US; both trips were for more freedoms and a better life etc because China was really really messed up for a bit (also keep in mind the people emigrating all had the means to and were at least middle class, usually somewhat educated, etc.). I will not be talking about that group either because I don’t think it’s my place to, but please know they exist as well.

IMMIGRANT WAVE 2: 1980s ONWARD

A lot of people came from mainland China for education; there was also an. exodus of intellectuals following 1989 (which I Will Not get into). Many of these people sought job opportunities, like those that rapidly opened up in the computer industry, there are many students who come here to study abroad, who take SATs and TOEFLs to get into good US colleges or to conduct graduate research and get PhDs; some stay, others have gone back to like, advance China’s development (this sentiment of getting good students to go abroad and then go back to China to use their talents for Patriotic Purposes isn’t a new thing, stretches back to like the late 1800s). I don’t really have much to say about this group besides what’s below ↓. 

2. Immigrant Thoughts On Their Home Country

more complicated, because it varies by generation and time period and probably 203943 other things. Mainlanders that came over starting in the 1990s till now have relatively positive feelings towards China (imo, extrapolating from my life experiences); I think part of that is also because most* of these immigrants aren’t really escaping from something? They’re coming for an education/job opportunities (students studying abroad in the US (留学生 or liuxuesheng) for graduate school or university come to mind as one example), and they’re still very much connected to China politically and culturally, sometimes* more so than to the US. For these immigrants, I think Yao doesn’t worry too much about them? They’re pretty successful* overall*, and discrimination, although still A Large Problem™, isn’t the same from stuff that Yao (or his immigrants) remember from, say the mid 1800s (see above), or even during the paranoia about Communists after WWII and the subsequent Chinese Confession Program that made many people really scared of being deported. (Red China made Chinese Americans a target of the Communist panic, and the confession program was instated in order to make sure Communist spies couldn’t infiltrate the US. Those who immigrated illegally could confess that and gain citizenship; however you also had to weed out everyone you knew who also immigrated illegally.) I think Yao would see them as an extension of himself in a different land; they’re very much still part of him, and he gives them his well wishes.

However, I think that immigrants born in the US in modern day at least (1990s onwards) are definitely more ambivalent about China’s legacy + modern day Issues™, as much as we are connected via culture and heritage. Not quite sure how Yao would feel about that, because I’m not quite sure how much Yao is the state and how much he represents the people. However, I think there would be some mutual unease; does he see this as betrayal of some kind? Perhaps he doesn’t blame us for feeling as we do? Maybe he wonders what we feel about him; maybe he doesn’t want to know. Maybe he chooses the easier route: to focus on the bonds between him and his huayi instead of the grievances, and leave the rest unsaid. 

Additionally with first gen immigrants, there’s the conflicting feeling of being stuck between two worlds and value systems that oppose each other in many respects. Also there’s sometimes a feeling of not-quite-being-in-touch-with-your-culture (in other diaspora as well, ofc. here it’s often exemplified by forgetting or not knowing how to read and write Chinese proficiently, among other things 🙃); idk. does Yao see that as a bit of a disappointment? Would he wish us to try harder? Does he view it as inevitable, for those raised in the US; the environment is too different, and perhaps he won’t blame us for those differences, or shortcomings. Does Yao know, or care, about the racism? What about his immigrants who try to assimilate completely into American culture, who try to erase the Chinese part of their identity? Those that have tried it, but regretted it? Are they still his, when they have tried rejecting their connection to him, choosing to drop the “Chinese” from Chinese American? Does he consider racism when thinking about them? What about international adoptees? Does he claim them, when some have not been raised in a culturally Chinese environment, and when it’s still a sensitive subject on both sides of the ocean? I don’t have answers to many of these questions.

There are also immigrants who fled China because of war or persecution or upheaval, (one example is with regards to the Cultural Revolution), but I don’t feel qualified to discuss it here, and I don’t want to take it lightly.

But, despite everything I’ve discussed above, I’d like to think that however an immigrant feels about their home country or however long they’ve been there, all nation personifications would still wish them a better life (even Yao). I mean, it’s not always easy being an immigrant/part of a diaspora (especially when race becomes a factor). I really don’t think any of the hetalia characters would say “look at your struggles. What a mistake it was to immigrate somewhere where you still face so many challenges, although they might be different from the ones back home”. that’s just No. Also, I think that when you disregard sentimentality and their inherent connection to the people, countries would still be able to sympathize with people trying to strive for better, you know? People immigrate for a better life, whether it’s because it was getting rough when they left or because other places had more potential, and like. although nation-people can’t leave their own country, I think they understand the people who do, because it’s a chance to make a new life, and it would be unkind, counterproductive, limiting, to prevent someone from taking that opportunity if it came. And their children, and grandchildren; they are still connected to their origins even in a new country, by blood if nothing else, and nations are people too; they must have some sentimentality for their people born in a different land. I’d like to think that if Yao met a Chinese American kid running around San Francisco’s Chinatown, or bumped into an ABC high schooler in a well to do Massachusetts suburb, he’d stop and nod and maybe say hello, and wish them luck, wherever they go in the future. After all, they are the products of his immigrant’s hopes and dreams, and they are his too, as much as they live in Alfred’s land.

* (asterisks): this is a) from my experience and research; not everyone will have the same experiences! please keep this in mind and don’t generalize a very vast group of people. :)

Idk if that was too sentimental or rambly or something, but yeah, those are some of the things I consider when I think about nations and their diasporas. If you made it down here, thanks for reading! I greatly appreciate it. Also I hope I got all my facts correct, but if anyone spots anything incorrect, especially regarding the post 1980s immigration wave, please tell me! Tried doing my research but there are still a few things I’m unsure about rip. 

This might be deleted tomorrow because I’m feeling weird about it, but feel free to reblog! I’d also very much love some feedback too if any of y’all are feeling up to it

[jaskierswolf]

Dearest Wolfie, I am here to humbly request some Jaskilion vampire smut pls 🥺

Dear Buttercup

Prompt: Frottage/grinding/scissoring Relationships:  Jaskier (netflix)/Dandelion (book) Rating: E Content Warnings: vampire sex, sex magic, frottage, biting, blood drinking. Summary: Jaskier gets caught in a thunderstorm, luckily there's an appropriately spooky house near by to shelter in.

For my darling @dani-dandelino and also my last prompt for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Art by @dapandapod

Lightning shot across the sky in a vicious streak of blinding light, and there was a resounding clap of thunder that made the ground shake. Jaskier’s hair was stuck to his forehead as he tried, with very little success, to shelter under his guitar case. He blamed Geralt for this entirely. The bastard had gotten into another fight with Yennefer and Jaskier was left to find his own way home from the pub. He wasn’t drunk, just mildly tipsy and sorely lacking a driving license. It had been too late to catch a bus so here he was stomping through the park in the middle of the night, during a fucking thunderstorm. The old house in the centre of the park looked like something out of those stupid horror movies that Geralt and Yennefer liked to watch. It looked haunted during the day, but at night… fuck. It was something else entirely.

So naturally, Jaskier wanted to have a look. He was soaked through to the skin and shivering. His house was still a good hour away if he didn’t get lost, which, if he was being completely honest, he probably would. Directions just weren’t his strong suit, and everything looked the same at night. The house, despite scaring the shit out of him, looked incredibly tempting. It would be warm. He could dry off. Maybe the owner would even let him stay the night, if they were kind.

And if he was really lucky, they might not kill him.

He laughed and he wiped his nose, pushing his sopping wet hair off his forehead and away from his eyes. His fringe immediately fell forward again.

“Oh fuck off,” he muttered and shook his head, wrapping his arms around his chest in a futile attempt to stay warm. “Stupid Geralt, stupid Yennefer, bloody fucking thunderstorm.”

The large wooden doors creaked open, startling Jaskier from his pity party. There was candlelight flickering in the hallway and the sound of a violin singing from somewhere in the house. Jaskier crept forward, cocking his head as he peered inside. The house was extravagantly decorated in burgundy and gold. From the porch, Jaskier could see a faded painting of a young man, dressed in old-timey clothing, regency if he had to guess. It was rather Mr Darcy. The young man was tall and slender, with a mess of golden curls that just about covered his ears. Jaskier couldn’t look away. The man was beautiful, with soft pale skin and rosy cheeks, a smile that could outshine the sun. He had a long dark blue tailcoat, and there was a small white dog bouncing at his feet.

But it was his eyes.

Beautiful cornflower blue.

Utterly stunning.

The door slammed shut behind Jaskier and he spun round, arms flailing, “Oh cock!”

The sound of the violin stopped. The house fell eerily silent. Jaskier could hear his own heartbeat hammering in his chest and he pulled at the edges of this shirt, flexing his fingers and tapping out a rhythm on his leg. Nothing helped. He was pretty certain he was about to die. The worst thing was he couldn’t even remember entering the house. One minute he was admiring the portrait from afar and the next he had his hand raised, ready to trace the sharp cheekbones of the handsome blond.

“I haven’t had a visitor for a long time,” a mesmerising tenor voice lilted from the top of the stairs.

Jaskier jumped, almost falling over as he twirled again to face the mysterious owner of the murder house. His mouth fell open as he saw the beautiful blond at the top of the stairs. His skin was deathly pale, and his hair now fell to his shoulders in a cascade of curls, but there was no denying that it was the same man from the portrait. Blood red eyes glowed in the darkness, never blinking as he peered down at Jaskier with a haughty expression. Gone were the elegant regency clothes from the portrait. Instead, the blond wore an unreasonably sexy lingerie set, black as the midnight sky, with garters strapped around his thighs. On each thigh above the garter was a holster, with an elegantly decorated hilt; daggers.

Seriously, who the fuck carried daggers in this day and age? Surely you needed a license for that?

But on the mysterious stranger it just seemed to work. He was timeless in his beauty.

The fine silvery silk robe trailed behind him, and he raised one perfect eyebrow, looking considerably unimpressed. Jaskier’s eyes widened as he realised he still hadn’t said anything, too busy gawking at the angel before him…

Or perhaps the devil.

There was no way this gorgeous creature was a man from god. He was too sinfully tempting.

“Ah, bollocks,” Jaskier stammered. “Well, you see I just- there was a teeny problem with my ride, and then the storm, and well… the wine. Oh the wine, it was absolutely delectable, you have never tasted anything as delicious, a true blessing from the gods themselves.”

He was rambling. He knew he was and yet he couldn’t shut up. Jaskier just kept talking, letting his wine fuelled brain spew poetry about everything and nothing. He talked about Geralt, the flowers he’d seen on his walk, the stars that had been glittering in the sky before the clouds had ruined the view. He talked about the way the river shone in the moonlight, and Geralt, and the cute adorable kitten he’d seen sheltering in an alley… and well… about Geralt.

“Forgive me, dear fellow,” The man finally interrupted with a wave of his hand, “but if you are quite done, I’d like to ask what you are doing in my home.”

Jaskier blushed, glancing between the very much shut door and the handsome figure before him. Gesturing wildly between himself and the door he stammered, “The door? It- it- ah, well, it just sort of opened.”

“And you walked in? I must say, you really have no sense of self preservation. Pretty little thing though, aren’t you?”

Jaskier scoffed, putting his hand on his hips. “Little?!”

“How old are you? Barely twenty by the looks of it,” he smirked, a long finger brushing Jaskier’s cheek. “So young.”

“I- I-!” Jaskier spat out, “You! I’m twenty five!”

“A child,” the man hissed.

And Jaskier’s heart jumped. He froze, an icy feeling creeping through his veins.

Fangs.

Red eyes.

Definitely immortal.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” Jaskier fell backwards, tripping over his own feet. “You’re a vampire! No. No, no, no. This is a joke. Fuck!”

“Vampire,” the vampire scoffed. “How rude! I have a name, buttercup.”

“I- how- oh cock,” Jaskier whined.

But before he could flee, the vampire’s hands were around his neck. The bastard moved faster than light. His pale skin a blur as it pressed against Jaskier’s throat, lifting him from the floor.

And Jaskier, in all his idiotic horniness, was starting to feel rather aroused by the whole thing. Sure, he was scared shitless, but if the vampire didn’t kill him…

Well…

Jaskier really hated his dick sometimes.

“So, ah- umm, will you do me the pleasure of telling me your name?” Jaskier squeaked, gasping for air.

The vampire chuckled, a beautiful melodic laugh that could charm aphrodite herself. “Finally, some manners, darling. My name is Dandelion, you would do well to remember it.”

That was… promising.

“A flower for a flower?” Jaskier suggested, praying that this would not be his last night on earth. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Oh, my dear Julian, I have no intention of killing you. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a monster, unlike the villain that turned me. Now, he was an utter cock. He didn’t even ask! Day before my wedding, unbelievable.”

Jaskier laughed. Was the vampire, Dandelion, actually telling him his backstory? What the fuck had he walked into?

“That’s… unfortunate?”

“It was a complete disaster, my darling Henrietta married the deplorable Valdo Marx instead and I had to flee to the shadows like some bloody monster. It gets lonely.”

Jaskier blinked, feet still dangling as the vampire held him by his collar. He was struggling to breathe, his cock was hard in his pants and he was almost certain that he probably would survive the night. “Can’t- breathe.”

“Oh, poppycock! I am ever so sorry, dear boy,” Dandelion cooed and dropped Jaskier to the ground. “Better?”

“Yeah, yup.”

Dandelion inhaled deeply, “Oh, you do smell good, really good.”

This felt more like what Jaskier would expect from a vampire encounter. Before he could even respond, Jaskier felt himself being thrown back against the nearest wall, Dandelion’s cold body pressed up against his. The vampire ran his nose under Jaskier’s jaw, a low moan falling from his lips. “Talk about fine wine. You, my dear buttercup, smell utterly irresistible.”

Jaskier whimpered, his hands nervously gripping Dandelion’s silk robe, fingers intertwining in the soft fabric. He wasn’t really sure what was happening but he knew he liked it. Getting fucked by a vampire, there were worse things in life, especially when the vampire was as pretty as Dandelion. Jaskier wondered whether his eyes really had been such a dazzling blue before he was turned into a creature of the night. Red eyes burned like fire instead, the pupils almost completely black.

It should have been fucking terrifying.

It should have.

And Jaskier thought he’d never seen such a beautiful creature as the man before him. There was a scrape of teeth against his throat, and Jaskier groaned, helplessly baring his neck to give the vampire better access. He’d never thought getting his blood drained would be so alluring, but he was achingly hard and feeling heady with arousal at the mere thought of it.

The vampire just laughed and pressed a skin to Jaskier’s neck. “Eager little whore, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Now, now, patience,” Dandelion purred, making Jaskier shiver. “First we need to get you out of those clothes. You must be absolutely freezing, where are my manners?”

“Fuck your manners,” Jaskier grumbled, yelping as Dandelion scooped him into his arms and flew through the house. “Oi! Watch it!”

“Such a fragile little flower.”

“I- You, oh fuck off,” Jaskier protested weakly, because to Dandelion, he was fragile. He was human, mortal, weak. Despite looking like the stronger one of the two, Jaskier was like a glass rose compared to the glimmering diamond that was the vampire.

Dandelion fussed around him in a blur of silver and blonde, peeling Jaskier’s wet clothes from his skin, bringing him a steaming mug of sweet tea. It was all… kind of nice?

The vampire had said he was lonely after all, and maybe Jaskier’s blood would taste nicer if he was not miserable and cold. How was he supposed to know?

“Dandelion?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head as he looked up at the pretty blond from the pile of soft silk sheets on the bed.

“Yes? Did I miss anything? It’s been a while since I’ve had human company.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile. He’d been in the strange house less than any hour and yet his head was spinning from the rollercoaster of emotions, fear, arousal, panic, and now whatever this was, a sort of fondness perhaps?

“Everything is perfect, Dandelion, but why- why am I here? I thought… you’re a vampire. I smell good? Didn’t you want to- to-, you know?”

Dandelion giggled and perched on the bed next to Jaskier. “Sweet buttercup, I would never drink from you unless you wanted it. It’s not expected of you. I can go without.”

“You can?”

“But of course! And I’m not about to fuck you when you’re shivering, and reeking of fear, no matter how hard your cock is. I have standards, Jaskier.”

The vampire had standards. Of course he fucking did. “I’m not afraid now,” Jaskier whispered, “And I want you to drink. Come on, trapped-”

“You’re not trapped.”

“- in a vampire’s house, in the middle of a thunderstorm. It practically writes itself.”

“And yet, I made you tea?”

Jaskier laughed, “Yes.”

“Well then?” Dandelion breathed in a soft low whisper that made Jaskier’s skin tingle, “Perhaps a kiss?”

This time it wasn’t Dandelion’s hands that forced that air from Jaskier’s lungs, but his words. Jaskier swallowed, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as Dandelion approached him. The daggers had been removed from their holsters and set aside on the table, but the rest of the vampire’s ensemble remained. Jaskier, on the other hand, was as naked as the day he was born, only the silken sheets to protect his modesty. His cheeks warmed under the heat of Dandelion’s gaze, a blush that he was sure bloomed right down to his heart. He nodded dumbly, unable, for the first time in his life, to find the right words.

Dandelion’s skin was like ice as he cupped Jaskier’s cheek, their lips barely a breath apart. “You really are such a pretty flower, I love beautiful things.”

Jaskier whimpered as their lips met, ice and fire, vampire and human. Their breaths mingled as Jaskier eagerly parted his lips, and Dandelion’s tongue slipped inside his mouth. Jaskier had kissed a lot of people in his life but never anyone quite like Dandelion, centuries of practice served the vampire well, and Jaskier was left breathless and panting in mere seconds. His arousal from before reared up and he moaned wantonly against Dandelion’s lips.

“Divine,” the vampire murmured as they parted, and he pushed Jaskier backwards against the bed, their legs entangling so that Dandelion’s thighs pressed against Jaskier’s cock, “simply divine.”

“Dandelion,” Jaskier moaned, his head falling back onto the pillow.

“My venom won’t harm you, darling,” Dandelion whispered, his lips pressing against Jaskier’s neck, “but it will enhance your pleasure, dull your other senses so you know only me, my lips, my hands. You’ll be more relaxed than you ever thought possible…”

“Yes,” Jaskier answered Dandelion’s unanswered question.

The vampire sank his teeth into Jaskier’s skin, sharp pain soon subsiding into what could only be described as the most intense pleasure that Jaskier had ever felt. It was heavenly, magical, a blessing from god herself. He vaguely heard himself moan, arching his back off the bed as he thrust against Dandelion’s thigh. Every movement sent wave after wave of never-ending pleasure through his body, fire burning in his soul. He whined when Dandelion pulled away from his neck, rocking into Jaskier’s body, unheard praises whispering into his ear. When their lips met once more, Jaskier could taste his blood on Dandelion’s tongue.

It was addictive. He wanted more, more, more. “‘Lion,” he slurred as their bodies rocked together.

“Shh, little buttercup,” the vampire cooed, brushing Jaskier’s fringe from his eyes, before biting once more on his shoulder.

Jaskier keened, his orgasm shattering through him as he bucked up against the vampire. It seemed to be an eternity before he came back to himself, covered in cum and his own blood on Dandelion’s bed. The vampire in question was running his fingers through the thick hair on Jaskier’s chest, blood staining his lips, smearing down his chin. He looked as fucked out as Jaskier felt, smiling serenely as he hummed under his bed.

And his eyes were cornflower blue.

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed shakily. “Did you…”

“Mhmm, not long after you. What a sight you made, truly stunning? I really would love to paint you one day.”

Jaskier groaned and rolled over, grimacing at the mess but too tired to care. “If the sex is that good, you can paint me every fucking day.”

“Oh, darling buttercup,” Dandelion cooed, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s shoulder where the bite mark was beginning to heal. “You and I are going to get along splendidly.”

[lisinfleur]

All The Small Things

The request:

Author’s Notes | It ended up evolving into a small shot. Hope you like it! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon Words | 796 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions of child and domestic abuse (past).

When you told Hvitserk you had a child of yours, it wasn't such a surprise. He knew you were married to a bastard before starting a relationship with him. Your husband was pretty known and Hvitserk knew him very well - especially because he and his brothers ensured that idiot wouldn't reach you anymore in the last raid before he started courting you. “A sad loss,” you remember the messenger told you. Not a single drop of that feeling in any of you…

What Hvitserk never thought was that your little princess was also one of that asshole's targets. You tried your best to protect her, but unfortunately, your best wasn’t enough.

It was easy to see she was traumatized by the way she hid on your skirt when you brought Hvitserk home to meet her. Her little eyes enlarged on him as if he was a ghost from her past; and she hid completely in the folds of your skirt, allowing him to see only a small part of her face as she was sneaking out to look at him from time to time.

The poor little thing...

Like you, she was still recovering from her father's abuse, gaining weight and size for a child of her age, still acting like a scared puppy.

Hvitserk didn't force her to approach. Instead, he remained looking at her whenever she tried to sneak out of your skirt, smiling as if she was playing hide and seek with him and even sneaking a cookie out of the table that he left over a chair's seat closer to you so she could grab it. His lips curved in a tender smile when her little hands pulled the cookie into your skirt and he could see she was enjoying the gift as if he had given her a treasure.

The first day, you would say, was a disaster: she didn't even speak to him. But Hvitserk was confident and kept you tranquil.

"Give her time, love," he said. "Everything is still too new for her."

You couldn't imagine he was so right.

Slowly, his insistence in being gentle, smiling and giving your child the freedom to choose when she would want to come closer started giving results. When you weren't expecting, you left your position at the table to bring him more mead, and instead of following your skirt, she remained at the table, sliding her little butt up on your chair and looking at him from under the table since her height was still too small for that place.

"Oh, hello," he said, stopping you from coming back.

You stood at the kitchen door, looking from inside, giving your daughter space so she could do what she wanted.

"Hi," she mumbled.

And you smiled. It was the first time she was speaking to anyone else but you.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, looking at her with the same smile on his face, as if it was the most common thing to have her at the table like that, interacting so openly.

She nodded exaggeratedly, causing you to cover your mouth trying to avoid your giggle to be heard as Hvitserk pointed the herbal bread over the table.

"Do you want this one?"

She shook her head, frowning.

"Oh, so you don't like the herbs, uh? What about this one?" he pointed to the little buns stuffed with some cream you had done for him.

"Mommy said these are for the prince," she mumbled.

But her little eyes were full of stars looking at the buns. Hvitserk picked up one of them and slid into the plate in front of her.

"Well, I'm the prince... So, these were for me. I think I can share them, right?"

"Really?" she asked, full of hope.

"Go ahead, have a taste. They're delicious!" Hvitserk emphasized in a childish way that just encouraged your daughter to pick the little bun up and give it a generous bite, covering her mouth in sugar and cream.

Hvitserk smiled.

"You're nice," she said, holding her little bitten bread.

"Thank you," Hvitserk thanked, showing a beautiful smile at her as if her praise was the most wonderful thing of his day.

"I hope mommy marries you," your little girl spat right before running away with her creamy bun, causing you to blush from your hair to your toes when Hvitserk's eyes turned towards you once again.

"You've heard her, love," he said. "I think we'll have to get married now," he joked, smiling.

You blushed like never before, but truth was that it wouldn't be a bad thing. After all those years with an asshole, Hvitserk was the best thing you could ask the gods for and it was really a blessing to have him into your life.

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[ohsnapcracklepopfriends]

I know the timeline is completely wrong (Jamie did his first co-commentary in 2017, Gary got sacked at Valencia in 2016) and I don’t have any evidence that Gary likes flowers but I started writing this idea for another story and thought it would fit Carraville. 

----------

Jamie walked into the gantry at Turf Moor, buzzing with nervous excitement. When he walked up to the table, Gary’s bag was already there--though he wasn’t--and a lovely bouquet sat front and center on the table. It was a beautiful arrangement of small, yellow, spherical flowers accented by wispy white flowers and some light greenery. There was a purple card in front of the bouquet. 

To Jamie. 

Jamie smiled to himself. His mum must’ve wanted to give him a boost of confidence for his first co-commentary. He opened the small card. 

Good luck. 

The neat cursive wasn’t his mother’s, but he figured she had the florist write the message and forgot to sign it. 

“Nice flowers,” Gary said as he returned to the table, taking his seat in front of his microphone. He wore that smug grin that Jamie had learned to lov--tolerate over the years. Gary grabbed a notebook and a bag of Haribo from his bag and started going through his match notes, refamiliarizing himself with the stats and injuries of each team. He was strangely chipper for 12:30 on a Saturday. He seemed more awake than Jamie had seen him in a while. 

“Thanks. They’re from my mum.” Jamie grabbed a folder from his trusty shoulder bag along with a thermos of tea. When he looked up at Gary, he wasn’t smiling anymore. He must’ve been getting into game mode. 

“These are Yellow Mimosa flowers, you know. Those white ones are Baby’s Breath. Specialty of that fancy shop in Liverpool.” Jamie hadn’t known that. He also hadn’t known that Gary was so knowledgeable about flowers or for that matter scouse flower shops. He told Gary as much. Gary huffed. “Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” 

-------

It was the night of Gary’s first show back after his disastrous stint in Valencia. Jamie decided he should get him something, you know, to welcome him back. The question was what to get. Chocolates were too relationship-y. Flowers? Gary loved flowers; he’d appreciate the gesture. Jamie decided to stop at a florist’s shop on the way to the studio, figuring he could slip the flowers into Gary’s dressing room before he showed up.

“Do you have anything that says like ‘good luck, mate. Glad you’re back’?” Jamie asked. The usual florist was out and one of his teenage employees was manning the counter, but Jamie still figured it was worth a shot. He was completely out of his depth when it came to this stuff. 

“Carnations generally symbolize affection and good luck,” the kid said, “we have white, yellow, pink, blue, and green ones at the moment.”

“No red?” He asked. The kid shook his head. It was worth a shot, Jamie thought. But Gary liked yellow well enough. It was definitely better than blue. “I’ll take the yellow ones.” The kid nodded and began to fix the bouquet. It was more of a bunch of flowers than a bouquet, but it wasn’t like Jamie was proposing marriage or anything; it was good enough. The kid handed him a card to add to the flowers. “Cheers,” Jamie said before fetching a pen from his pocket.

Gary, 

Glad you were a shit manager. 

xxx Jamie

Three x’s was a little over the top: he wasn’t a teenage girl, but he couldn’t exactly erase the pen so it would have to do. He tucked the card into the flower’s wrapping and headed towards the studio. It hadn’t even occurred to Jamie to be nervous until the walk to Sky. He and Gary hadn’t really talked much since that first night he got back. Most of their interactions happened with Gary blackout drunk, so they hadn’t exactly got the chance to catch up. What if it was awkward? What if they didn’t flow like we used to? Was Jamie supposed to talk about his stint in Spain? Jamie shook his head to try to clear out the thoughts. It would be completely, totally, one hundred percent fine. Right? 

Gary’s car was parked right up front when I turned the corner into the Sky Sports complex. So much for hiding them in his dressing room. Jamie bounded up the stairs of the building. Maggie was on the phone at the front desk, but waved as he opened the door. Jamie smiled at her and walked up the stairs to his dressing room. 

Jamie opened the door of his dressing room to the sight of a very naked Gary. He let out an embarrassed, high-pitched squeak when he realized Jamie was there. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing in here?” Jamie asked, staring resolutely at his shoes. It’s not like he hadn’t seen him naked before, they played together in the England squad, after all. You tend to see a lot in the showers after the game. But this felt different, more uncomfortable. Probably because Jamie couldn’t stop thinking about Gary’s legs. Or his arms. Or his back. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie saw a flurry of movement. Gary was frantically trying to cover himself up with whatever he could find. He ended up wrapping himself in Jamie’s fuzzy blanket. 

“What are you doing here, James?” He asked, “you’re not supposed to be here for another hour!” His face was as red as a United kit. Jamie guessed that he wasn’t much better, though he hoped it was more of a Liverpool red. 

“I was going to surprise you with these,” Jamie gestured to the bouquet in his arms, “I know how much you love flowers, I figured you’d appreciate the meaning.” Gary looked up from the flowers. The crease between his eyebrows was more prominent than usual.

“I’d appreciate the meaning? Is this a joke?” What? Jamie thought. “Look, I’m sorry that I kissed you that night, but seriously?” Jamie was wondering when that was going to come up. He had been trying to avoid thinking about it like the plague. He didn’t want Gary to know how much it meant to him even though Gary tasted overwhelmingly like vodka and puked on his shoes about three seconds are he broke away. He didn’t need to be reminded that to Gary it was a drunken mistake. 

“What are you on about, mate?” Jamie asked.

“Oh, so we’re mates now? You’re a right prick, James.” Jamie didn’t even have time to process what was happening before Gary threw the bouquet at his face. Thankfully, he still had some of his reflexes from his playing days and was able to catch it. The card fell out of its place in the wrapping and floated down to the floor.

“We are mates! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Jamie took a breath and put the flowers down on the table. “Just wanted to get you some nice good luck flowers,” he grumbled under his breath. The room was silent for a moment save for the sound of their breathing.

“You are so bloody thick, James.” Gary’s voice was deceivingly soft. “White carnations mean good luck. Yellow carnations mean rejection and disdain. I thought you were rejecting me, you bastard.” Oh. Well, that made a hell of a lot more sense. That bloody kid at the flower shop set him up to fail. Gary bent down and grabbed the card. He took his time reading it, more time than was appropriate for eight words. He took a few steps forward until we were sharing Jamie’s space. 

“Oh, James. You know me so well,” he said. Jamie rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the fact that he wasn’t wrong. “I would kiss you if I weren’t so bloody naked,” he said. Jamie burst out laughing at that and Gary joined him a moment later. Jamie was always shocked that a forty-one-year-old man could giggle like a small, giddy child. Jamie cupped Gary’s cheek and kissed him. 

----------

“You remember your first match doing commentary? Chelsea at Burnley?” Gary asked. They were still collapsed on Gary’s couch after a long night of banter and analysis on Monday Night Football. 

“Yeah. Course I do.” It was always a stupid question when you asked if Jamie remembered something. Jamie’s face was smushed in a pillow. He felt completely and utterly exhausted but nowhere close to sleep. 

“I got you those flowers. Didn’t sign the card ‘cause I was a coward. Probably should’ve though. Could’ve saved us a few years.” Jamie pried himself up enough to look at Gary. 

“What do they mean, Gaz?” Jamie asked, “and don’t pretend you don’t know, you pretentious bastard.” Gary laughed at that but Jamie could see the worry in the crease between his eyebrows. 

“The mimosa flowers, those puffy yellow ones, mean secret love. Baby’s breath means an everlasting one.” Gary seemed almost embarrassed by the admission, letting Jamie know he was a hopeless romantic just like he was. Jamie looked at his disaster of a man with all of the fondness in the world. He reached over and grabbed Gary’s hand in his own. He rubbed circles onto the back of Gary’s hand and hoped he knew what it meant.

Gary was back and Jamie’s and everything was right in the world.

[cheeriecherry]

Birds Of A Feather [1/7]

Hawks x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Part 1/7

Your name is Y/N, and you’ve got the most beautiful pair of brown dappled wings you’ve ever seen. Not that you’ve seen many, at least not on a person. At the meager age of twenty, you’re a fully licensed pro hero, with worldwide experience.

You trained and attended school in your home country, the same place in which you began your career, but your work has taken you across the globe. Specializing in aerial search and rescue, you’ve seen many a crisis and natural disaster, and though you truly enjoy helping people, you’ve begun to get...what’s the word?

Tired.

All-encompassing and wholeheartedly tired.

Every day there seems to be a new accident, a new life to save, a new vacation to put off until later when you’re not needed, a new ‘I’ll take it easy today’ only to get home well after the sun sets and wake before there’s a light in the sky. You understand that aerial-quirk heroes are in high demand, but the amount of work you’re expected to accomplish is downright unreasonable. Fifteen hour work days, seven days a week?

And the commission has the audacity to wonder why you’ve gotten slow.

Such circumstances are why you made the bold decision to quit your job at your current agency, pick up everything you knew, and move overseas to Japan. With other popular winged heroes established there, you might begin to feel your workload lessen and the joy in your life return. Plus, you’ve never been to Japan, and you’ve heard it’s pretty this time of year.

Which leads you to where you are currently, standing in a small ice cream shop, trying to decide what flavour to order.

You eventually pick one, opting for something sweet instead of savoury (you didn’t even know savoury ice cream existed), and, with your treat in hand, you wander outside. The little shop almost looks out of place nestled amongst the high-rises, but then, that’s probably what drew you to it.

That, and they seem to have really good ice cream.

You begin walking down the street, your original purpose for being out and about coming back to the forefront of your mind. You don’t start work at your new agency for a couple of days, but you figured it would be wise to get familiar with the area. You never knew if you had to give a lost patron some directions.

Then, just as you’re beginning to enjoy the sun on your face and the breeze in your feathers, an explosion goes off down the street. People scream and run in every direction to escape the blast, and you watch, and hope, and pray, that another pro arrives on the scene. You’re so tired.

A man cries out, drawing your attention, and you watch as his young daughter is snatched from his arms and carried off into the sky by a villain.

So, so tired.

The villain flaps his wings hard, dark flesh menacing against the bright blue of the sky.

Tired.

You wonder if the soft flesh of his wings was damaged in the explosion. He seems to be struggling, even though the little girl is already screaming and wriggling uncontrollably in his arms.

He shouts something at her, but you don’t hear what it is. Probably some kind of threat.

…

And then he drops her, from three hundred feet up.

You drop your ice cream and take off into the sky, wondering why it was so impossible for you to have just one calm day.

You catch the girl easily, though she writhes a little bit until she realizes you’re there to help, and return her to the ground. The villain is a short ways away now, and you would bet your left arm that you could catch him if you tried, but the fact is that you don’t have to.

With the excuse of keeping the little girl safe, you let the bastard get away, secretly hoping karma catches up to him and he runs into a building.

At the very least, the child’s father seems grateful, taking her into his arms and holding her close. He doesn’t say much to you beyond some blubbered thank yous, but you don’t mind. You’re long desensitized to the traumas of hero work, but the average citizen isn’t. You know he’s relieved, and that’s all you need.

You walk away from the scene then, now that other pros have arrived to help with the damage, pausing for a moment to stare at your ice cream that’s melting on the sidewalk.

So. Fucking. Tired.

----

You decide to spend the rest of the day in your shitty apartment, where the space was barely wide enough to stretch your wings out but the need for a hero was slim. The place had been a bit of an impulse ‘buy’ (you rented the space, in actuality), much like your entire move to Japan had been. A desperate attempt at change, for the sake of your own wellbeing.

But if you were a magnet, disaster would be a sheet of steel.

Your phone rings on the table beside you, cheery tune mocking your sour mood. You briefly entertain the idea of letting it go to voicemail, not having the wherewithal to deal with anything social at the moment, but the call display dissuades you.

“Hello, Y/N speaking,” you answer, putting on a light tone for your new agency. You don’t want to give them any kind of reason to regret hiring you, even if it meant putting on a farce for a few minutes.

“Good evening, Miss Y/N,” the person on the other end says, “I’m calling to inform you that your contract with us has been terminated-”

Fuck.

“-at the request of the Heroes’ Commission.”

Seriously. Fuck.

“Earlier this afternoon, we received a call regarding a transfer to the agency run by Hawks, and the request of the man himself. Seeing your history, we decided it would be best if we didn’t hinder you in achieving your full potential.”

Right, and the sum of money they probably received had nothing to do with it. You knew how these things worked.

You bite your tongue.

“We appreciate you considering us when you applied for jobs in Japan, and we wish you the best of luck in your new position.”

You hang up.

Of course the damn Commission would still have a say in what you do with your life. They’d work you to death if you ever gave them the chance, but it seemed trying to take that chance from them was near impossible.

“Why did I decide on this career,” you ask, of no one in particular, letting your misery seep back into every crevice of your mind.

You’re so irritated that you nearly throw your phone across the room when it lights up with a text.

‘I look forward to meeting you. Gonna be cool to work with another bird.

-Hawks’

The only thing you can wonder, as you stare down at the patronizing words, is how the fuck your new boss even got your number.

[talesofsonicasura]

Spooky Gratitude

A little girl gives a gift to an odd creature on Halloween night. Years later, the creature returns to show it's gratitude on a day that was promised disaster.

Halloween, a day where people celebrate the times of magic, mischief and monsters. To dress as monsters, play innocent pranks, carve pumpkins to light up the night as magical jack o' lanterns and grant delicious goodies to those who say the magic words of the Halloween Spirit: Trick or Treat.

One particular town had a very special cryptid that only appeared on the night of this spooky holiday. An odd doll with a carved pumpkin for a head that wandered the streets. Trick or Treaters who passed the odd being often found extra candy in their bags. If they were good hearted, these spontaneous treats were tasty and delicious.

Those who were naughty however, ended up candy that tastes like their most hated food from broccoli to even liver. They called this oddity the Halloween Jack, after the Pumpkin King himself. Strangely, no one had ever tried to offer a treat to the cryptid. No one knew what would happen if the Halloween Jack was given a treat. Well until now.

A little girl was skipping down the sidewalks with joy in her step. It was a star filled Halloween Night alit with the sound of doorbells ringing and the cheer of childish 'Trick or Treat'! This little girl had locks of blond and eyes of bright sky blue. Her costume was a black witch's hat paired with a purple dress lined with black, frills, little white stockings to little black shoes, and a little wand topped by a pumpkin.

She carried two separate buckets in her hands: a pumpkin and cauldron. Her small plastic cauldron contained a good chunk of chocolate and mixed candies. The plastic pumpkin one strangely had the same but the inclusion of freshly wrapped Halloween cookies. Blue eyes looked around at the various houses and the treaters at their door.

The little girl was about to go to her next house when something made her stop. It was a small child who strangely didn't have a bucket of goodies like her and other children. His costume consisted of a light beige bodysuit with a small green cape around the neck and a jack o' lantern on his head that had axe through part of the top as yellow looked through the eyeholes.

She never saw a costume like it before. It looked so real and well made that it had the child baffled. How come someone with a nice outfit doesn't have any candy or treats on a Halloween night this lively? Blue eyes looked over at the orange bucket in her hands before looking back at the oddity.

Yellow eyes soon turned to the sound of skipping getting closer until they met a kind blue. "Hello. I love your costume. It's pretty cool but I noticed you didn't have a bucket. You can't go trick or treating without one." The little girl then held up the orange bucket in her hand. Yellow eyes widening upon the gesture made.

"Take this one. Everyone should be able to enjoy Halloween. My name is Eva. And I hope you like the treats." The little girl smiled brightly at the pumpkin headed being. Yellow lights curled into akin to a smile as the cloth covered hand took the bag. "I'm Pumpkinmon. Thank you."

Years later, the little girl known as Eva grew up. She never saw the child called Pumpkinmon after that fateful Hallow's Eve as the memory slowly faded with age. The child soon blossomed into a beautiful young woman of two rambunctious twins. Children whose father was an actual demon known as Sparda.

Sparda was hated by his kind for protecting humans and even mating with one. On one fateful night, his enemies decided that he should pay for his treachery. A night that was promised sorrowful spill of blood but…

"Vergil! Vergil!" The voice of a crying mother echoed through the forest night. Feet running in important haste belonged to an older Eva. Her short blonde hair now long and lovely, chubby face smoothed in a beautiful and caring one, and little body now a lean, elegant and curvaceous wonder. Red coat fluttering with the wind of urgent steps as she made way through the wooded path.

Her oldest son was in danger. They had a fight and he ran away to his quiet place, a playground at the edge of the forest. None of them were aware of the monsters that would attack them tonight. Her youngest son Dante was hiding in the closet but Vergil was in the open. She had to find him.

Eva immediately stopped when something large had blocked her path. It was a monster, a demon. The vile beast resembled a pale lethargic phantom cloaked by a long tore black cloak, a blood red scythe in hand. She instinctively took a step back when four more of them appeared around her in every direction.

Eva wasn't blind to the killing intent well aimed on her being. They wanted vengeance in blood and flesh. These demons wanted her dead. Her and her children. "Let me through you bastards! I won't let you lay a figure on my babies!" She hissed with fury, uncaring of the claws or blades that could rip her to pieces.

Picking a stone, she chucked it at one of the Hell Cains before her. The item whacking its head earning a baleful roar in utter rage. All of them moved their scythes to the side, every bladed staff in position to bring down a fatal slash once they were close. They were ready to lunge, ready to reap this woman's soul until…

"Trick or Treat Wallace!" A suave distorted male voice ripped through the air. A wall of pumpkins manifesting around the defenseless woman as the reaper demons charged forth. These pumpkins immediately exploded upon contact with the abominations turning all attackers into pumpkin scented ash.

Eva, who was unharmed, could only blink in grateful surprise. Someone or something had just protected her but who? "Mom!" The cry of a young boy rattled her thoughts with hopeful tears. Running from the woods towards her was a little boy with eyes of blue and slicked back hair of white. "Vergil!" She cried as she embraced the child who ran in her arms.

The young mother and son whispering soft apologies to each other while they sobbed in an emotional hug. "I believe this young man is yours." The male voice from before had both Eva and Vergil turn their heads at the source. Older blue widened in surprise at a very familiar sight.

Standing or floating before them was an odd being. A 12 ft daintly lean man in a luxurious long coated purple trim white tuxedo decorated by golden pumpkin shoulder pauldrons, a green cravat by his neck, purple downward angel wings hung from the back like a scarf, a black top hat with goggles sat delicately on a horned jack o' lantern head and in his hand was a cane topped with a bat winged pumpkin.

An old memory dug itself out from the deep reaches of her mind. Of the little child with a pumpkin head on that Halloween night. The one who she gave a bucket full of treats as a child. "Pumpkinmon?" Eva questioned, her words riddled with surprise, joyful remembrance and hope.

The figure let out a soft kind chuckle as the little boy Vergil sat confused in his mother's arms. "I'm NoblePumpkinmon now. I have grown since that fateful Halloween, just as you blossomed into a beautiful mother. Your kindness that night had blessed me with what I needed to bloom myself." He held up his hand as a well aged but familiar plastic pumpkin bucket appeared.

She could only look at the bucket with a smile from that special memory. The day she realized that there were mysterious wonders in this world they lived in. "I couldn't let the one who granted me kindness lose their life without us meeting once more. Your other son is waiting for you, dear Eva. I hope your family prospers with every Halloween." The bucket then floated over to two.

Eyes widened from the various candies, toys and baked goods held inside as Vergil's hands took the black handle with wonder. "Goodbye Eva. May we meet again someday." And with those words said, NoblePumpkinmon flew up into the sky before disappearing into the darkness.

One year later, upon their return the Sparda Manor had been magically repaired overnight. That night, Eva told the tale of Pumpkinmon to her children but also her husband who miraculously returned that very same day. He also had some assistance from a 'pumpkin headed angel', which made the woman smile warmly.

She never knew that her gift to the strange being that night when she was a child had spared her family from a nasty fate. As time went by, the woman didn't see any signs of NoblePumpkinmon. Maybe he returned back to his home, wherever it was.

Tonight was Halloween once more, the house was strung up with decorations but also charms to ward off any unwanted guests. Eva's sons were getting the last touches of their costumes done with help from her husband. Dante was going as a vampire but Vergil's costume was a bit special. His outfit was based on the very creature that saved them last year, NoblePumpkinmon.

The only difference was instead of wearing a pumpkin head, the pumpkin bucket that was returned had been painted to look like the head instead. A sight that only warmed the young mother's heart. Eva was checking on the pumpkin pie that was in the oven when the doorbell rang throughout the house.

Being curious as it wasn't time for Trick or Treaters yet, she walked over to the door. Eva didn't expect what she would see upon opening the door but she would be lying to say if it wasn't welcomed. For standing on her porch was someone she hoped to see again.

NoblePumpkinmon had returned but he had two friends with him. They looked like what he was on the day they first met, Pumpkinmon but one had an orange scarf and the other had a purple ribbon instead of little green capes. "Trick or treat!" Eva couldn't help the small chuckle that came from her lips.

"I thought it would be nice to visit you once more but with my family this time. Halloween is a time for friends and family to share in delightful tricks but also delicious treats after all." The smaller Pumpkinmon cheering in agreement upon their father's words.

"Well come on in. I got a pie baking in the oven. Plus, my family has been wanting to see you again." Who said good friends can't be made on Halloween much less a miracle? For it was this holiday that a family survived the most disastrous night of their lives.

And it all started with a little girl giving a bucket of sweets to a mysterious being with a pumpkin for a head on Halloween night.

And that's it! Eva and Sparda are alive. Today is Halloween and I wanted to write a little ficlet for it. Pumpkinmon and NoblePumpkinmon sounded like the perfect thing to use in this particular situation. These Puppet Digimon are created from data that embraces this spooky day of the year so they are also the kind to repay kind gestures on that special day too. Hope you guys have a great Halloween!

Tagging: @astral-space-dragon , @synchronmurmurs , @buns-with-a-book , @sakkajagga , and @queenmuzz

This is Pumpkinmon and NoblePumpkinmon. Not my art btw.

[tropical-gothic]

To the world

Angel/Demon AU headcanons for Yasha and Sasori

@multisasori Well, it’s technically a Good Omens AU. Take a guess on who’s the demon (who is just a little bit of a good person), and who’s the angel (who is just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing).

Special thanks to @thatshipcat for fueling these headcanons and for sharing quite a few that I’ve incorporated here.

1. Angel and Angel turned Demon

Sasori started out, like all demons, as an angel. That was, until he made one fateful trip down to earth to Babylon.

“I’ve received a notice about a tower outside building regulations—-“

Said tower may or may not have been the base of a handful of demons. The angel who came to inspect may or may not have liked the aesthetic—- Sasori thinks he would look more beautiful in black, even if his beauty was already beyond mortal comprehension.

“Where is Sasori?” Yasha had long since finished his own job, and ended up stumbling on a bunch of confused people who couldn’t seem to understand each other. “He’s never been late.”

“Yasha,” rang a voice in his head, with some static— likely calling from an underground source. “Can’t make it back today. I’m being indoctrinated into demon hood. I’m going to have such awesome black wings.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” Yasha said, brushing his own white wings. They looked awesome enough to him. “Okay, you stay safe.” The static stopped and Sasori’s voice disappeared. Yashamaru sighed. “Michael’s going to be pissed.”

2. The Aesthetic

So, there are good and bad things that come with the whole demon aesthetic, Sasori realized.

Yes, black looked absolutely wonderful in him. He was drop dead gorgeous and people have even more languages now to tell him how beautiful he was. Except that he wasn’t a fan of the whole… snake skin issue. That was Orochimaru’s thing and somehow that becomes everyone’s thing as well (at least in “Akatsuki”— which Sasori also found a cool name for demons).

But it definitely wasn’t Sasori’s thing. He complained to Yasha about it often enough— even carved himself his own set of wooden clogs. Better the clogs than snake skin— /oh, okay, all shoes become snake skin when I wear it. Perfect./

Another thing Sasori liked about being a demon was the black wings that came with the indoctrination. It was his color, after all, and it made him feel larger than life— even if the wing size didn’t actually change.

Except that demons didn’t quite groom their wings the way angels did and Sasori did not take to change very well. So he still kicks down the door of whatever mortal space Yasha is occupying on earth and insist that he help Sasori comb the spots he can’t reach.

Which Yasha does, with a certain gentleness that Sasori will never admit to liking.

3. The Black Plague and the Renaissance

Somewhere during the Middle Ages, Sasori was convinced that Yashamaru was an angel of death (the last heavenly meeting he was in, they were discussing this— though no one was assigned the part… as far as Sasori could recall). Either that or he was just a strangely morbid angel.

See, the guy always hovered very close to death. Be it a war or this century’s plague that’s ravaging Europe. Not that Yasha would admit to it—- he insisted that it was because this was where people needed the “comfort of God’s love” the most. (That may be why Sasori has worked a few miracles here and there too— keep them alive long enough for them to become selfish bastards again.)

“You need to get out more,” Sasori said, poking at the bird beak of the angel’s protective suit. “Air this out so you don’t smell like death. We won’t be able to have dinner if you smell like that.” Yasha would pout— but he would miracle out of the fashion disaster and into better clothes.

Yashamaru, on the other hand, was convinced that Sasori has made it a project to influence every art movement on earth. He’s always there when the big ones happen— so Yasha knows that something will happen after the plague (that would be called the Renaissance, later on).

“Back when these black wings were still new, I used to create my own gods— and have humans create them as well. Give their offerings of gold and blood to these beautifully carved idols.”

Yasha doesn’t believe him, of course. Sasori likes to create things and finds things beautiful— in and of themselves, without the work of temptation weaved into them. Sasori wouldn’t listen, of course, so Yasha just gives a few words of encouragement every so often.

4. The Antichrist

Sasori’s biggest assignment to date was a delivery. A package of sorts, straight from hell. He was to deliver the Antichrist— the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness.

Straight forward job— get the parcel, dive around town in his new car (which matches his aesthetic and even has a name), switch it with someAn other pre-selected baby, perhaps get a tip for the fast delivery service. Well, it should have been a straightforward job. Except that Sasori took a peek a the baby.

And was, perhaps, a bit more taken by the tuft of red hair, the large green eyes, and the little arms that reached out to him, than he would like to admit.

In another part of the city, Yashamaru was predictably hovering near death once more. This time, it was the death of a mother— still young, with blonde hair, and two children waiting for her at home. There should have been a third child, but the baby has already been wheeled into the ICU, and then wheeled out looking even smaller and a lot more limp. The little one had been born too early.

Yashamaru hovered near death, and stood beside her husband— a tall and stern man who bore the heavy weight of grief. It was too early to think about the future--- if he thinks of a life without his wife, it might come true. They were both leaning against the wall by the glass window, waiting for the hemorrhaging to stop— for better or for worse, when—

“So, Yashamaru,” Sasori suddenly appeared, sticking his head through the window. “What sort of diapers do you think the Lord of Darkness would prefer?”

“I— what? Wait— Sasori, now is not the time. I’m in the middle of—— /oh, he’s so cute./“

“Right!”

For a moment, Sasori told Yashamaru about Hell’s plans to bring the Antichrist over and then eventually the end of the world. With some added gloating as Sasori was won’t to do. For a moment, Yashamaru considered what to do with the child— now that the babe was in front of him. Ethically speaking? Morally speaking? As an angel? He should have the answer to this, innately, but he doesn’t. If the Antichrist were to kill everyone—-

“Excuse me?”

For a moment, Yashamaru and Sasori forgot that there was another person standing close by.

“You’re not humans?” the human asked.

“Oh no! We’re absolutely—“

“Of course, we’re not,” Sasori shrugged. “He’s an angel, I’m a demon, and this is the antichrist.”

“Right…” Yashamaru refused to let go of his smile. Positive thoughts.

“You can do miracles,” Rasa said, pointing to labor and delivery room. “My wife. She needs to live. We’ve already lost the baby.”

Sasori leaned close to Yasha— “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m thinking that we’re imposing on a family undergoing the worst tragedy of their lives.”

“Worst tragedy so far—- but that’s a stupid thought. What I’m thinking is that— I take the dude’s soul back to home with me and the world gets to keep the lady.”

“Sasori! That’s deplorable!”

“He’s handsome!”

Yashamaru smacked Sasori on the side. “Focus! I don’t even know what we’re thinking about— I understand this is a great deal for this family. But the greater deal is the future of the whole world. And that’s dependent on him—“ he pointed at the little red haired baby, who was making little spit bubbles while they deliberated his fate.

“You’re right,” Sasori nodded his head. “We should adopt him.”

“What! No— “ Yasha said, more than a little taken aback. “I don’t think we’re ready for this responsibility. The finances alone— did we ever settle that diaper question? Wait! No, we can’t— we’re not allowed to intervene in human lives. Raising someone would count.”

Sasori paused. “How about indirectly?”

They both turned to the human who looked too confused to follow the conversation.

“What’s your name?” Sasori asked.

“Rasa.”

“Okay, Rasa. He can get your lady love back from the clutches of death—“

“Sasori—“

“Make it happen, Yasha. But in return, you have to take this little one.”

Rasa looked at the child. “The Antichrist?”

“Yep. And he also comes with two godfathers. If we are to prevent him from realizing his full powers which could annihilate all of us and cause the end times, then we need to be present in his life as well.”

“That’s a lot to take in,” Rasa said. Nevertheless, he took the child and cradled him. Rasa told himself that this was the child they had been waiting for— even if the circumstances weren’t as expected.

“So—“ Yasha turned to Sasori, “we’d be like godfathers, then!”

“Yasha, go save the girl.”

“Right!”

Bonus:

“You’re telling me,” Sasori said, rocking the antichrist to sleep (for his parents who were fast asleep and too tired to tend to the child). “That she thinks you’re her brother? I thought she was an only child.”

“I panicked!” Yasha said, placing the milk into a tiny cup. “She asked who I was and I couldn’t say I’m an angel… I gave her good childhood memories if that’s any consolation.”

Sasori sighed.

[kenbunshokus]

this is a (super late) update to this fic rec post! i was planning to just keep editing and updating that post, but it’s been so old it no longer appears on tumblr search system and all, so here we are. be ready for some old school zosans in the mix

all complete

absolute favorites will be noted with a ♡

list will be updated as i find more

story count: 30 fics

last update: jan 5th 2020

CANON-VERSE

Goings On by clarify  ♡

Zoro and Sanji understand each other, and sometimes have a very similar sense of humor. Even though they're worlds ahead of most, sometimes they can't help but to act their age.

easily one of my favorites. zoro and sanji are completely in character, being themselves and comfortable in each other’s spaces. for anyone who thinks zoro and sanji can’t get along in canon, this fic can easily prove them wrong.

Part Timer by 8ball ♡♡

Sanji really, really doesn't want to give Zoro a job at his restaurant. Zoro doesn't really even want to work there in the first place, but, well, there’s this thing with Sanji, and this thing with feelings and the whole thing is pretty damn stupid all together.

Zeff just wants grandkids. He’s too old for this bullshit anyways.

a wonderful, heart-wrenching, roller coaster ride of a post-series fic. this fic is not just a mere fic — it’s a zosan magnum opus with guest appearances by so many other characters, lots of crew hijinks and a must-read for everyone who craves for a happy ending for these good boys.

Say It Again by 8ball

Zoro tells Sanji how he feels. And then again. And again. 

since we’re talking about 8ball i just want you to know i’d rec everything they’ve ever written, but special mention to say it again — a classic miscommunication trope fic done well where the miscommunication stems from fundamental misunderstanding of each other’s principles and views instead of just some plot-convenient coincidences. and soft zoro. god, he is soft.

The Wedding Night by cuethe-pulse (lj)

Zoro had never expected any of this.

major character death warning. don’t let the first few scenes fool you. note the warning; the last few lines were like a punch in the gut for me, except, you know, the good kind of punch. also, a quick rec of a drabble by the same author to soothe the pain after this one.

Roronoa Zoro: World’s Greatest Bug Killer by insaneidiot ♡

Sometimes, Zoro's life really sucks. He should've known better than to make fun of Sanji's bug phobia, though...

zoro’s internal monologue is hilarious  — until today, this author is still my go-to expert on zoro’s voice, especially his more sarcastic side.

Quitting’s Easy by insaneidiot

Sanji decides to quit smoking. This is not quite so easy as he thinks it will be. Also, his crewmates (excluding Robin and Nami, of course!) are assholes.

fun, fun strawhat hijinks and oblivious sanji. the crew dynamics and especially sanji’s voice are pitch perfect. there’s a hint of luffy/nami that you can easily scroll past if it’s not your thing.

I can’t stop thinking that i can’t stop thinking by hieiandshino ♡

In which Brook changes tactics and Zoro is not amused. Everyone else is, though.

holy shit is this fic hilarious. i love comedy fics that manage to slip in thoughtful observations and character study in between the hijinks, and this fic pulls that off with flying colors. 

The Walls See All by threesipsmore

Reiju hides a snail cam in her brother's room.

fun short fic from reiju’s pov. there’s never enough zosan set in whole cake island arc and this fic delivers.

Stormbird by Judin ♡

The Straw Hats' first landing in the New World is on Arashi Island, where it looks like they'll be spending a fun week attending the local festival and making new friends. Until they spot a strange pirate ship in the harbour, and Sanji starts behaving oddly. The Straw Hats become entangled with the mysterious Gently Pirates, a crew that harbour many secrets, and whose captain is a man out of Sanji's past who has the power to tear the Straw Hat crew apart. 

it cannot be overstated how wonderful this fic is, and how it could’ve fit into the canon just nicely, like a better-written one piece movie, except with zosan. not only are sanji and zoro in character, every strawhat gets a spotlight and has pitch-perfect voices. brook is especially lovely in this fic.

Unintended Consequence by itsmylifekay

A group of marines charge, Zoro slices through them, and in that instant Sanji feels his own eyes grow wide. Because there, on the arm now outstretched towards him, steel glinting in hand, is the stupid bracelet he’d given Zoro. The bastard is actually wearing it.

there’s a reason this is the most kudo-ed zosan fic on ao3 right now — it’s so soft without being ooc, and there’s a quiet undercurrent of affection laid throughout the fic that will warm you up from the insides.

Somewhere Between Sorrow and Bliss by srididdledeedee

Sanji has never cared for winter.

He can see himself, is the thing. There are bits and pieces that poke through, but it’s not all him. It’s like staring in a fractured mirror. He knows, intellectually, that the person staring back at him is himself, but his face is splintered and his shape is distorted and his body is wrong.

a fantastic character study on trans!sanji and how he comes to terms with his identity with the help of his crewmates. supportive strawhats are always a lovely addition to a zosan fic

Give In To Love by libbylune

Zoro knows better than to think about it too much, but between the rowdy festivals and ancient unexplained temples on this island, it's hard to forget about wanting Sanji.

i love how this fic puts as much focus on the boys after the confession as it does before the confession. a good case fic with its own unique island adventure and i’m always a sucker for soft!zoro

Laundry by libbylune

Dealing with Sanji makes Zoro develop a lot of opinions about clothes.

there’s absolutely nothing hotter than bi!sanji who’s completely comfortable with his gender identity and sexuality. also gay disaster zoro fumbling his words whenever sanji is around is 1) accurate 2) hilarious.

Language of Swords by HaveMyWeedCookies ♡

It took them for a while but finally, Zoro asked if Sanji wanted to hold his sword.

i love fics that explore zoro’s relationship with his craft and his swords, and adding zosan into the mix is something i didn’t know i needed. an interesting outsiders pov zosan in the pov of zoro’s swords.

Ghost of a Chance by sabershadowkat

“I know, for sure, that I didn’t expect to miss everyone so much, including you.” Sanji cut a glance at Zoro and rephrased correctly, “Especially you.”

this fic handles tropes that are usually associated with character death fics, but manages to end it with a happy ending. zoro’s devotion here is heart-wrenching.

Idiot Romance by sabershadowkat

"This has to be a joke," Sanji muttered, poking at the colored petals. Zoro couldn't have just given him flowers.

a classic  — this is literally the first zosan fic i’ve ever read — and a lovely one at that. sanji is oblivious and zoro attempts romance, not that zoro ever needed to.

festival night by thisislegit

“ANOTHER FEAT BY THE WORLD’S STRONGEST MAN, JORIRI.” The woman turned to Mr. Mohawk and with faux sympathy said, “Oh! Sorry, sir. Maybe next time. We can’t always beat the best, but we can do our best and that’s what matters. Do we have any other takers? ANY OTHER TAKERS READY FOR THE STRONG MAN CHALLENGE? HOW ABOUT YOU SIR? MADAM? YOU OVER THERE? ARE YOU INTERESTED?”

“What kind of shit name is Joriri,” said Zoro and Sanji in unison.

i’m an absolute sucker for fics that have zoro and sanji simply hanging out and enjoying each other’s company, comfortable in a way they couldn’t with their other crewmates, and this fic exemplifies that. just them being little shits and having fun with one another.

No Victory in Hesitation & the Past Has Its Lessons by EudaimonErisornae & vageege

Zoro has a lot of things he wants to say to Sanji, but he just needs one more day. || Zoro tries to fix a mistake he made in the past.

major character death warning. i died a little bit inside after reading this tbh. there are some devil fruits-explained time travel hijinks, but mostly it’s this looming, grim inevitability of death that’s written so pervasively throughout the fic that really got me.

Imperatives by dollcewrites

Zoro is confident in saying that Sanji is a man who doesn’t do what he’s told. Which is why, when a command accidentally slips from Zoro’s lips during foreplay, he is expecting to hear the cook’s scoff as he continues to do what he pleases.

i don’t tend to do pwp, but this isn’t just one — it’s a completely in-character piece about their relationship and dynamics.

when you say by bluewalk ♡

It's a long time in coming. Usopp can promise, but.

this fic is as much sanuso as it is zosan, and usopp here is — still very much usopp, but also a very beautiful take on his character as someone who spent a lot of time behind sanji’s back, and realizes that when he watches sanji’s back, he gets to see zoro’s, too.

a complete guide to falling in love by ThousandSunny

Sanji was trained in the Bridal Arts; this does not go unnoticed by the rest of his crew.

while the main ship is still zosan, the fic also focuses a lot on zoro and sanji’s relationship with the rest of the crew, and it’s one of those fics that really makes you realize how much of a family the strawhats is. a lovely read all around.

destructivity is a poison that run through our veins by wasteofmind

Zoro thinks that, someday, they are going to kill each other.

a dysfunctional take of their relationship. it’s fascinating in the same way a car crash is fascinating  — there’s an undercurrent of something violent, something visceral. this is one of the fics that inspired me to write migratory animals.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Ocean’s Child by 8ball  ♡

Here's the truth: Zoro couldn't swim. He fell in the water and sank like a stone because there had never been anyone to teach him how to move his arms. He forgot that if he screamed for help the water would get in his mouth, and he even opening his eyes hurt.

Here’s the other truth, the one that stays a secret: a mermaid saved him.

a fascinating retelling of the one piece canon with mermaid!sanji. it feels a lot like a love letter to the seas, and it’s mesmerizing how sanji’s mermaid backstory is seamlessly weaved into the one piece canon.

with you by Cirro

How to find your life partner in three easy steps: 1. Punch them in the face 2. Insult their cognitive abilities 3. Embarrass them so much they agree to marry you

a wholesome two-part modern au series. my personal favorite is the second part, where sanji brings zoro home to meet zeff — complete with the two of them teasing sanji in their own ways.

The Proper Reaction (or What To Do When Your Son Brings His Boyfriend Home by three_days_late

Holidays at the Baratie were always hectic, but it's nothing Zeff can't handle. Sanji's new boyfriend, on the other hand...

on the topic of meet-the-family: the only thing more fun than zoro meeting zeff is zoro meeting zeff and the entirety of baratie staff. also includes one of my favorite line about bi!sanji: “sanji loves nice girls and bad boys”.

Exclusive by cuethe-pulse

Zoro loves Sanji, Sanji loves Zoro. Zoro wants to be exclusive, so Sanji should, too. Right?

this is a circus/bakery au. yes, you read that right, and yes, it works. i went into this fic with a lot of doubts and came out very satisfied with how fleshed out everyone in this au is, and i’m forever in awe with how the author can set up an entirely separate, vivid universe with so few words.

Delivery by styx_in_the_mud

Sanji is stuck delivering pizzas when Patty is out of commission for a while. Zoro likes to order pizza after training. Both of them are sort of idiots, but Zoro can be smooth as fuck if he puts his mind to it.

a fun, in-character au with good ol’ banter and cute get-together.

The End of It All by xpiester333xx

Humans have been forced underground due to the effects of a chemical weapon that has made surface life impossible. Sanji lives in one of these underground colonies and though he dreams of bigger things his life has been mundane; spent following strict rules and obeying higher commands. Or it was, until a stranger shows up and changes everything.

the author labelled it as sci-fi au, but I personally think it’s more dystopian-like? either way, while this fic is on the long side, it manages to keep everyone in character until the very end, which is something that can’t be said for a lot of fics.

well, there we go! feel free to drop me an ask if you want to rec me fics or ask for a more specific/themed rec list; i’ll also update this post regularly !!

i also have an ao3 donutsandcoffee if you want to see my take on these dorks o/

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

My Favs... and possibly why

(Haikyuu, My Hero Academia, Jujutsu Kaisen)

Haikyuu!!

1. Iwaizumi- tbh if you think it’s because I find him hot you are partially correct. but like he is a multitalented athlete who cares about his friends(strangers too) and despite having all the traits of a strong leader he spends his time supporting and helping others and is passionate about it marry me now. He strong also. My haikyuu husband

2. Kenma- Anxious gamer boy supports nerdy friend, in his passion finds joy in it, is incredibly smart/perceptive, hot , awkward, puts his all in the things he likes doing. everyone says he’s not baby he’s aggressive, chaotic and would not hesitate to fight but that is what makes him MY baby.

3. Noya- Hello what show are you watching if you don’t like nishinoya?? although he is very energetic and it would exhaust me at time he’s talented, pretty, passionate, shorter than me, loving and motivating. I want to be the kiyoko or asahi in his eyes. that look in his eyes. I want it to be for me.also i want to go on a gay trip around the world with him no fair asahi

4. Asahi- Trope subversion yes please. Give me my big softie who is a ball of anxiety but a normal teenager even though he looks so tough and mature i love him so much and he’s strong and reliable and would support you in whatever you’re doing come on what is there not to like (besides his new design) i want him to smile for me and design some clothes for me.

5. Tie for Hinata and Bokuto- Idk i don’t have that shounen mc aversion so i love loud passionate babies. Hinata is not my favorite but I haven’t seen the whole series and I think i can fall in love with him a little more because he’s adorable and passionate and hardworking look at him why would I hate him. Bokuto is like hinata if hinata had his personality put in a bigger body. It’s a little more unstable in the bigger body but still fun and so amazing. beefy.

honorable mentions: Aone & Ushijima: Asahi in different fonts. Suga: I would marry him if he asked but in terms of fav characters he narrowly missed top 5. Tendou & Kyotani: They are seen as scary but i don’t find them scary and want to tame them and have them for myself. Matsukawa: Hot. you need anything else?

 Jujutsu Kaisen:

1. Yuji Itadori- He is SO CUTEEE. Hellooooo are you watching jujutsu kaisen? like I know you’re all unnecessarily horny for Gojo and Sukuna but no one is better than Yuji. He is sweet and cute and considerate and loving and trusting and a beautiful himbo. He is adaptable, welcoming, passionate, and he’s like one of the only characters i know who says “i don’t want to kill because I value human life but one day I will have to. Until then I am going to look for other ways” He accepts the darkness of the world and that he is going to be put in a difficult position. He is not on the “killing people is always bad no matter what situation you’re in” train. I dislike those people. 

2)Teenage Gojo and Geto- to avoid spoilers I’m just gonna say icons. mwah

3) Nobara- I am not a gay disaster I am a bi/pan disaster. All other men (except the ones above) pale in comparison to this wonderful woman. She is chaotic, badass, smart, amazing wonderful talented gorgeous where was I going with this. Anyway when she was fighting that one guy and she was whooping his ass it was amazing (this happens i would say often so it’s not a spoiler)

4) Nanami: I feel better about him than Reigen Arataka but they are similar. Nanami wants Yuji to be a child, though he respects Yuji and recognizes his power and passion. He wants kids to be able to be kids and let the adults handle the big problems. Unlike reigen he actually realizes when he can’t handle everything by himself and the kids will be put into hard and horrible positions so he teaches/advises. Also he hates working as he should

5) Megumi: He is cute and i love his non gendered preference for good people. plus i think his animals are cool. He is respectful and cares a lot, i like how his bad backstory affects him but doesn’t control/motivate him. pretty dry otherwise

honorable mention: Adult gojo: cutie! Junpei: no words. Sukuna: bastard but likeable

BNHA/ My Hero

1. Aizawa- Did you think I would put anyone else in the number one spot? please. Aizawa Shouta is my one and true husband above all fandoms. This man is hot, all other words for attractive, gorgeous, funny, sleep deprived passionate (“really cool”-shigaraki) he cares about his students, regular people and i think a little bit for people who become villains out of necessity. I have read the manga and vigilantes and oh my god he is such a great hero and so strong ugh. Him and the kitty in vigilates 10/10. He is a true hero and I think he’s better than all might

2) Bakugou- It took me a long road to get here but I am 100% a bakugou fan. When he was in middle school I wanted to beat the crap out of him and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one. He took things too far. But then I started to think about his life and i’m 100% sure I would’ve become a villain in like season 4. He matured, and became a strong willed passionate person who cares about saving people over proving his worth and I know that was hard for him. I dare say he had even more character growth than anyone else in the series that stuff speaks to me. It definitely doesn’t hurt that he’s attractive

3) Shinso- I think I saw a tiktok where people were confused how we like shinso so much after seeing so little of him and I was so confused as to how his little screen time wasn’t enough for y’all??? Traumatic backstory? pretty hair? sleep deprivation? strong motives and an amazing quirk? sarcasm and cutthroat attitude to get where he wants but he refrains from violating people too much? he is like aizawa and bakugou mixed together and then given some insecurities what’s there not to like

4) Midoriya- He’s a really cool MC i’m gonna be honest. He just isn’t my favorite person in the series. He’s a hard worker, brave, strong, admirable, adorable, and sweet. he can also get violent and lets loose and cares about people. I for one am really glad to see him living out his dream and thinks he’ll be fantastic

5) Amajiki & Kirishima- These two are the opposites of each other but make up for it and make great work partners. Amajiki is cute and shy with a lot of anxieties but he’s powerful and smart and can take control of a situation very quickly once he makes his mind up. He is wonderful i love him. Kirishima is handsome and bold showing off his strength and charisma but he has a lot of insecurities about inaction yet he can be great support especially when he’s got a good partner/leader fighting with him (bakugou, fatgum, amajiki). An he’s sweet and amazing

honorable mention: Twice: He is caring and so sweet and i love him, also he’s hot. Iida: loosen up a little class rep, you’re smart and semi adaptable, you are passionate and pretty handsome too. Present Mic: amazing talented brilliant showstopping. the only other person who can have aizawa. 

[dwestfieldblog]

A VERY REMOTE ENGLISH TEACHER

Where meditations, rants, reverie and absent seizures cross over... closer to one gun with one bullet, the rose of ruby and the cross of gold...uff, and MENTACIDE IN THE TIME OF MASQUES. Although I have never suffered from the guilty masochistic torture of ‘pleasure anxiety’, Bacchus hath indeed drowned more men than Neptune.  So I stopped drinking for 18 days to fool myself I was doing something positive and threw away enough things to be minimalist again. Arf. Beauty and/or function uber alles.  

Been treading water for three years and trying not to drown...big round of one hand clapping for the former poet. Meanwhile, in this temporary world and perception I have created of it, I am looking at a very possible exile one way or the other...my ‘plan’...a long phased withdrawal or hasty retreat. My wish is to stay, but once I leave, it might well be very hard to return.  Read as many metaphors as you want into that but in spite of my dislike of the conservatively minded Aristotle’s ‘either/or’ nonsense, there do indeed appear to be only two this time. And appear is the operative word. Appearances can be deceptive and emotions (unless raised and focused) cloud over what should be clear. Pain has a tendency to breed worry and fear too but let’s draw a veil over that for now eh? Suppress, suppress, release comes later...breathe deep and try not to cough, onward we go where the game gets rough...Just like Tom Thumbs Blues 65.  

Remember Roman Protasevich...As Lukasenko himself said...‘Belarus stood at the edge of an abyss and I helped it take a step forward’. Look good on your tombstone that will Al. Fecking outrageous the Indian PM only admitted in May that covid was transmitted in the air. He needs removing... as do two thirds of all the other world leaders East and West. Hello Bollsanaro. People are very easy to manipulate when they’re are scared or angry...and right now the world majority are both. But, ‘there is a crack in everything... that’s how the light gets in’... and ‘things could change’, doesn’t have to be for the worse. It can take decades to realise this as actual truth, but still nice to read and try internalise the following last week.’The odds actually favour the optimists, since dissipate structures are more likely to evolve into more information rich (intelligent?) forms than into primitive or chaotic forms.’ All my friends bar my best one are optimists..Hello you:-)

Ever onward deeper downward with Orban in Hungary and his mission of ‘Christian values’, which involves a familiar routine of arresting, beating and disappearing dissenters in the name of Christ and taking over the universities to replace professors with those who understand on which side their bread is buttered. Decent judges long gone. Nice fascist communism...and ex soldiers in France and the Czech republic warning of civil war...

And now spiraling we go into the black hole vortex of Disaster capitalism, ‘Let the bodies pile high’. There’s gold in them thar ills....ISLAND PARANOIA and PERFIDIOUS ALBION! A country which demands a contract, agrees, signs to it and then refuses to honour it. We look worse than ridiculous, we look deceitful. Gentlemen, your places please. Boris Johnson is a clumsy, inept, disgraceful charlatan, con merchant and LIAR. A blustering master bullshit artist, the only decent thing about his recent secret wedding is that now he legally has one less bastard child.  

Recently I read that British people are displaying signs of Stockholm syndrome...in that they dislike those who hold power over them and make the rules but during the time of pandemic, they are the ones who will release the saviour vaccine and get everything moving again. So rather than rocking the boat and daring to express dissent at the DIABOLICAL handling of the last 18 months, they have mostly kept quiet and voted for the same endlessly failing, corrupt and venal politicians who made a bad situation far worse. (That said, it bears repeating that there are a few million in the UK who didn’t quite understand that that the spread of a highly contagious airborne virus can be slowed by the wearing of masks/applying basic hygiene and even took offence at being told what should have made sense to any adult homo SAPIENS half capable of cogitating for themselves. Morons and scum. Same where you are?

By the way BBC...the colossal dearth of stories about the endless government failures in relation to Covid, death, corruption and the NHS...ever since they blackmailed you with threats of revoking the TV licence fee and got you to change Directors has been noted. Long may Have I Got News For You continue the satire and balance needed in a DEMOCRACY. Obey your public servants? Why, when they do not serve few but themselves? Power OF the people? Which ones...the mob? The same bleating pricks who follow populists?

Four eyed beanpole fop Rees Mogg, with his wonderful line that the benefits of Brexit will be seen ‘over the next fifty years’...well yes, that is why most people vote in democratic elections eh?...So they will be dead or ancient before the change they hoped for comes...and the politicians who lead them now, will have all long moved on to revolving door chairman of the board offshore limited liability company paradise. Bread today jam tomorrow fairytales. What I tell you three times is true.  

O, but the English do so love to be told what to do by dumb posh boys who treat them like dirt. Some are forelock tugging and some are self flagellating middle class upper class wannabes who will never get there but still feel proud they are not street level proles. Doby the house elf alien hamster Michael Gove found guilty of breaking the law. Nothing. Internal inquiries run by those connected to the money changing hands find nothing illegal. Corruption for all to see...and ignore. ‘Well, what can we do?’ The uselessly inept serial failure Dido Harding to be in charge of the National Health Service? (she of the collapsed Woolworths, Talk Talk and the 22 BILLION pound loss of the Covid Track and Trace program where non working consultants/insultants, were paid 1000 pounds a day). American style privatisation is coming where only the wealthy or criminal can afford to be repaired and well. Sick.  

Meanwhile, All our imported nurses out, and all the lobster red fat Spanish costa de la sol criminals back in. Great exchange, fair trade and forward thinking. The Kremlin are manipulating/supporting Scottish independence... I read years ago about their base in Edinburgh for Russia Today (the foul insert in The Daily Telegraph) and they were already encouraging it. Rees Smug has accelerated and supported their freedom with his snobbish utterances on countries in the UK other than England and their ‘foreign languages’. With every patronising, arrogant pronouncement, the Eton trifles fuel the fire in Scotland which has a long bitter history of being tortured, murdered and subjugated by their southern masters. Perhaps the chumocracy in Downing Street believe the Celts to be as easily cowed as the middle and working classes down south. Here’s hoping not. ‘Rebellious Scots to crush’? Not this time pal.

As for the future of Britain? A dystopian open prison where the lower social classes toil only at the pleasure of their masters. The higher caste getting richer and all others cast into a living Hell of debt, crime, and sickness. Serve until you die and be thankful we allow you to exist. Increasing in utter irrelevance to the world, other than as an example of how wrong a former democracy can go. This future started decades ago...its baobab roots truly deep now. Better education and critical thinking for the masses in the UK (or anywhere else) is highly unlikely now. Optimism huh? As long as I am not in England, I will still be able to tap into it, but once enclosed long term in the group mind there...trapped in a grey quagmire. Keep smiling...

Several weeks ago, I watched a video on YT of apparently English protestors running after the police in London, some attacking and throwing things, one pulling off the pandemic mask of an officer and all shouting abuse at the outnumbered cops who had to keep pulling back. As always, to get my caffeine rush of fury going, I read the comments and was surprised to see two or three from Chinese names. Almost all comments were against the government (fair enough) and dumb against the lock down, masks, vaccinations etc. Checking again, I saw the video had been posted by CGTN...a media company owned and run by the communist party in Beijing...and not one author of diatribes had mentioned this, nor speculated with a critical thought as to why such an organisation might enjoy turning people against their own democratically elected government (however mind rippingly foul and corrupt they are).

I copy pasted the Wikipedia paragraph about the company onto the page and hoped someone else would make the connection. I wouldn’t mind so much IF there were a credible and decent alternative other than the diseased populist poison for which the demonstrating goons chant. China really cares about the standard of democracy in Britain eh? Persuade your enemies to weaken themselves. Destroying countries by encouraging their ‘patriots’.

(That was written on the anniversary of Tienanmen Square...a few days later Xi Jinping gave a speech saying ‘...a lovable and respectable’ China must be presented to the world and must ‘expand its circle of friends’. Tell that to your teenage ‘dissidents’, Muslims, Falun Gong and Tibetans being tortured and brainwashed in prisons or being used for organ harvesting. Tell it to Hong Kong and Taiwan.) 

Unholy America...against abortion and the pill, sex education’s not Gods will and in the Name of Christ they kill...if truth be known, we’ve failed the test...but Jesus was a Socialist and Republican conservatives hate them. The founding fathers of America were Very clear about separation of church and state with damn good Reason. Another part time Christian, Mike Pompeo wants to be president. Q Onan deepstorm morons/Kremlin stool pigeons aka POLEZNYYE IDIOTY continue to push for Trump and his Big Lie...He with the brain where ‘In the left, nothing is right and in the right, nothing’s left.’ Arf.

Over the last two decades, the dumb have been finding their voice and are now louder and prouder of their dumbass ignorance. 74 million in the US alone, their egos unable to retreat in the face of endless evidence to the contrary, they all double down. Like children sticking their fingers in their grimy ears sing songing ‘la la la can’t hear you’. 74 million versions of Eric Cartman, loud, proud and wrong. And uuff, Megan Markle,  Majorie Taylor Greene, walking Picasso collage (bad car driver) Caitlin Jenner and Ivana Trump in politics...not exactly holding a proud lantern for women eh? I’d like to buy them for what they are worth and sell them for what they think they are worth. Not very PC?  

That was the point. Could easily been written about all of the men written about here too. Next examples follow...

Tucker Carlson and Alex Jones compete for who can be as mentally ill as trump. The Miami school where the husband and wife directors told teachers not to return if they had HAD their vaccine shots because their proximity to students was interfering with menstrual cycles and uuuufff...The sickness of utter mind buggering stupidity. I had my first shot, now waiting to turn reptilian when the 5G masts triangulate my position. Fnord. Covid appears to be killing more overweight meat eating males than females...perhaps testosterone is not useful for the coming Race of non binary mutant hermaphrodites...and look out for the end of the Y chromosome, coming to a temporary universe near you...in 4.6 million years. Yes, really.  

Glad Netanyahu is out at last, smug corruption is never a good look unless one is a rich criminal. Ha.  The Promised land of Israel...If I was in court for serial murder, breaking, entering and stealing and then defended my actions by saying that God had told me to do it, would the Judge; A. Call for a psychiatric report, B. Disregard the statement as unprovable and pass the appropriate sentence, C, say Ok mate, you’re free to go, good luck to you. ? Moses had a good schtick.

The law is only to punish the poor, do you feel as if you suffer from empathy? Once you know, you no longer need to believe. What does ‘reality’ seem to be? The more certain you are, the stupider you get and belief is the death of intelligence. The machine is running the engineers. What is the definition of rationality...the quality of being based on or in accordance with reason or logic. 

Nothing is, but thinking makes it so. Epicurus.  

EVERYTHING NOT COMPULSORY IS FORBIDDEN.

The glamour illusion of the mass of pointless hot influencers needs a constant renewing of the Banishing Ritual as much as all the pigslop bile coming from Fox News and Sky. Bloody long haired commie liberal faggot they cry against any not identical to them. Some days I have only flamethrowers of hatred for these idiots. Other days...not exactly self doubt, just questions...most of us seem to believe our opinions are more valid when there are emotions connected to them. Including me. Again, this seems like a very weak version of ‘truth’, unless disciplined, channeled and focused to a certain end.

Life appears to exist in order to become via chaos.

Most of us are working only not to be homeless, some because of the joy in our chosen work regardless of finances. Until ‘reality’ kicks in the door...the bondage gets tighter when you struggle. How much hardship is the individual willing to endure these days by choice? Surrounded by a universe of distraction and destruction, Maya mewling for our attention. Five years of Trump, rampant populism and Brexit doing a Hexagram 23 on democracy, compounded by the pandemic...all on top of ‘normal’ daily life. The ego feeds and the immune system breaks down. Hard to ignore without being on a mountain or in a parallel dimension and emotion free other than compassion. But BY GODDESS IT CAN AND WILL BE DONE. Ladies of Life Nin Khursag, Isis, Kali, Aradia...Love one, Love ALL. At very least have respect for thyself but be not thou proud of thine arrogance nor thy suffering.  

Or just Remember where you came from, what you were, seem to be and will become.

Heal, heal, more work to do, more love to give, more love to feel, Heal. Stay in drugs, eat your school and don’t do vegetables. Impose your own reality upon and through yourself, breathe, exhale, repeat, and continue, LOVE UNDER WILL. Experience and absorb but ‘It’s a house of tricks, ignore the world’’.

Stay well, be seeing you:-)