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guiltysecretpasttime · 4 years ago

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Blended

I was (thankfully) given some time off during this holiday season; which I promptly used to spend time with the family and recharge at home. Also spent time watching various movies during this time and a little LoK story idea came from it.

In my usual writing preference – it’s still a Lin/Tenzin endgame story but – in sort of a modern setting AU, blended family/semi-highschool themed with ages differed a bit (Lin and Tenzin was aged down by around 5 years). Expect it to be tropey and may be a bit of a cliché. This is written on a whim so if it doesn’t make sense…ah well. Haha! May edit this piece later on…

I’m considering this to be a short story, just a little self-indulgent-written-for-fun type of thing. But if other people enjoy it too then that’s such an added bonus so I’m sharing it with you as well. 😊 Let me know what you think since this is somewhat different from my usual style, I guess.

Also – I have misgivings regarding creating OCs so I’m likely to lean on canon characters and take a lot of creative license in developing them for the story.

---

Title (tentative): Blended

Legend of Korra, Lin/Tenzin, Modern AU, no bending

(Not sure if one-shot or will be multi-part yet)

---

Tenzin, Republic City Primary School

“Thank you for making time to meet today,” The silver-haired lady clasped her hands together on her desk. “I know you must have a packed schedule, but I think it would be good to have the check-in session for your daughter today.”

“Yes, of course – anything for my daughter.” The bald and bearded man threw a look at the door’s window, where he could see his daughter swinging her legs while seated at the corridor.

“Ikki is a bright child and she’s been doing her best to catch up with the class requirements. She excels the most at individual tasks.” The teacher continued to talk a little bit more about the projects that the students have been working on.

Teacher Yue handed the father a folder marked “Ikki”. Tenzin carefully picked it up and looked into the contents, smiling as he saw Ikki’s artworks and class outputs.

“However, I see that she seems to have challenges in adjusting in a large class set-up.” Yue shared. “It’s nothing to worry about though. We’ve had several transferees in the past as well and this is usual; I expect that might take a little bit longer since it’s a transition from homeschooling to a big school.”

Tenzin frowned and he hurt for his daughter. His two children had both been homeschooled until recently.

They also had to experience a lot of upheaval in the past year or so – from the divorce, to being uprooted from their childhood home, moving to a new city, and then going to a new school.

He did notice that while his son was as precocious as ever (maybe owing to his young age?), his daughter had become more subdued since their move.

“What can we do for her?”

“Well, we have a big sister-little sister type of mentorship program.” The teacher pushed forward a brochure and several index cards. “It’s mostly an afterschool interaction activity, we have here several students who have been volunteering. Maybe you’d like to ask Ikki to join?” She pointed at the index cards. “Feel free to select which mentor you think would help her best. We usually ask the parent or the student to select their preferred mentor profile from the roster. We would not want Ikki to feel uncomfortable; you’d know her best than any teacher.”

He nodded. After a few moments perusing the index cards and the brochure and pulled out one from the pile. “Let’s go with this girl.”

Tenzin pointed out to a profile labelled Jinora.

---

Jinora, Home

The ten-year old girl has just finished putting hair in a bun when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

“Jinora!” It was her oldest brother. “Mom says I can use the car today – want to leave with us instead of riding the bus?”

“Sure!” She called back, quickly grabbing her backpack. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Alright!”

Smack!

“Hey! Why did you do that for?”

“Good morning bro!”

Jinora rolled her eyes good-naturedly. That was probably her other brother slapping the arm of the other one.

Even at eighteen and sixteen years old respectively, they tend to act like children occasionally to the consternation of their mother.

She hurried down, knowing that if she did not do so, there would be no pancakes left for her.

Jinora heard her mother’s gruff voice in the dining room. “Bolin! Leave some eggs for your sister!”

“But, Mom,” Bolin spoke through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “I’m a growing boy. I need this stuff.”

“And Jinora is a growing girl,” Their mother drolly responded, taking a sip of her coffee after putting down the last batch of pancakes on the platter. “There should be enough from everyone.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Jinora immediately sat down and her brother forked two pancakes to her plate. “Thanks, Mako.” She slathered butter all over the cakes then squeezed a load of maple syrup.

She ignored Bolin gagging at her left at the amount of sweetness. She also ignored her mother who was hiding a smile and shaking her head at seeing the display.

In their family, it was only Jinora had a penchant for sweets. Her mother said she likely took after her father in that regard.

Her father…her absentee father…

Jinora shook off her maudlin thoughts when she saw Pabu, Bolin’s pet guinea pig, land on her mother’s shoulder, probably hopping from her brother’s backpack which was hung behind his chair.

Pabu began chewing their mother’s greying hair without warning.

Wheek-wheek-wheek.

“BOLIN!”

“I’m so sorry, Mom! Pabu get down from there – leave mom’s hair alone!”

All in all, it was another morning in their household.

It was noisy and sometimes chaotic, but Jinora would not exchange it for the world.

---

Ikki, library

Truth be told, Ikki liked going to school. She even liked her teacher and classmates.

She liked to be busy and the activities were very interesting. Getting homeschooled and only seeing their tutor, nanny and Meelo had become very tedious anyway.

Staying at their old home also reminded her acutely that their mother was not there anymore. She did not understand what happened, but she tried to.

It has been more than a year since their parents sat her and her brother down to explain that they were separating but it did not mean they did not love her and Meelo any less.

At first, she thought it might have been her fault (or maybe Meelo’s fault for that matter, he did fart a lot and that annoyed her terribly). Her dad and mom were quick to quash those theories, however. They spoke of drifting apart, change in priorities and other grown-up things that she supposed she will understand when she gets older.

But for now, she supposed as she opened her notebook on one of the long tables in the library, they would need to get used to their new living arrangement.

It was difficult last year as they were shuttled to and from two households. It also did not help that their mother was starting out with her new venture had been spending less time at her home. On the other hand, Ikki noticed their father spending more time with them, cutting down his work hours. It all came to a head when Pema had said she will be moving to another country to establish her new business. And so, they ended up -.

“Hey, are you Ikki?”

Ikki looked up to see an older girl with dark brown hair in a bun.

She nodded her head yes.

The girl gave her a bright smile and extended her hand.

“I’m Jinora and welcome to Republic City!”

---

Lin, Future Industries Head Office

Lin tiredly wiped her glasses clean before putting them on again, rereading her email response for one last time before hitting send.

It had been a long yet productive day. Her team had managed to fulfill all the visual design requirements that were due that day. She reviewed the different files sent to the printers, making sure that the final and correct collaterals were attached.

Her last task was to ensure that the last set of proposals were on-brand and aligned with Future Industries’ visual identity. Once she had provided her comments and revisions needed on the file, she sat back as she waited for the files to be uploaded to their server.

She reached for her cellphone, wanting to check on her kids while waiting. She looked at their family group chat and read messages from the last time she sent one.

Ohana (Lin repressed the urge to cringe. That was the final time that she would ask Bolin to create their group chat)

Lin: Kids – as mentioned earlier, I’ll be home a bit late. No need to drop by to fetch me; have dinner already and don’t wait up.

Jinora: Mom, I’ll be staying behind after class – I got a mentee! ☺ Mako Bolin can you wait up?

Mako: Jinora Bo has training today; I think we can wait for you.

Bolin: Jinora 👍🏼

Jinora: Mako Bolin thanks! 🙌

Jinora: Mako what will you be doing while waiting? You sure you’ll be okay?

Mako: Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.

Lin scrolled through some more messages. Knowing her eldest, Mako would like skulk off to the library.

Jinora: I met my mentee this afternoon. She’s such a lovely girl.

Lin smiled at this. Her daughter had always been the polite one.

Jinora: Her name’s Ikki and she’s two years younger than me. She said she and her father had first checked out Patola Mountain Primary.

Lin frowned. Patola Primary was far; she went there as a child.

Mako: Kid didn’t like it there?

Jinora: They didn’t have the chance to know. They had to move besause of her father’s job.

Bolin: heeey sorry guys- just about to be done with training. Just gonna shower …unless I just shower at home?

Jinora: Ew, no Bo. Shower first please

Mako: Agree. You’ll stink up the car, bro.

Ding!

Lin drew her attention from her phone as her laptop screen indicated that the files have been uploaded. She hit the send button and packed up for the day.

She was looking forward to spending some quiet time with her kids tonight.

---

Bumi, White Lotus Headquarters

Bumi leaned back in his fully ergonomic chair, thinking about how times had changed.

Being in an office was something he balked at when he was younger. But now, after serving a long career in defense and military, he submitted his retirement and come to the aid of his younger brother.

Ah, his only brother – back in the day, he would be hard-pressed to keep contact with his brother.

His brother who took on the role of spearheading their family’s company back when their father died.

His brother who had the task of continuing to revive the company and making sure it keeps up with the times.

His brother, who, despite being the youngest, was tagged by the board of directors as the heir apparent owing to his excellent academic records.

His brother who Bumi had felt envious of at some point. He later on realized that his brother actually missed out on a lot of freedom in his life.

His brother who managed to keep their company part of the Top 100 and make malls relevant again.

His brother who probably made some life decisions for the benefit of their company rather than his own.

His brother who had been through hell and back the past year when he and his much younger wife called it quits. His brother whose ex-wife is now galivanting somewhere in the Fire Nation, expanding a business built on horticulture and floristry.

His brother who, despite making some decisions that Bumi might not agree with, is still family.

And if there was anything that their parents taught them – family is permanent.

The ex-military man took a deep breath, looking at their last family photo. For what it’s worth, he liked to think that their fragmented family had found its way back into each other in their adulthood.

Bumi had to admit that Tenzin did have remarkable business acumen that benefited their company, a conglomerate built on the mall industry. With the fourth industrial revolution at hand and the shift towards virtual and digital, the White Lotus Corporation had been challenged during the last years of their father’s life. Tenzin had worked hard to change the ways of working and the culture in the company.

To do it, he had to make sure that there is a buy-in from the board. Ironically, to bring the company to the current century, he had to abide with one of the most archaic practices – an arranged marriage, a marriage that would serve as a press release to the business world in general, that their company was stable and there to stay.

Bumi had been surprised to get a call from Tenzin back then. He had called to let him know of his impending engagement, seeking support. Bumi had cheered, given his congratulations – but named the wrong bride. He had launched into a long tirade, berating his brother for his choices. Tenzin had shouted back his defense.

He still did not understand why Tenzin acted the way he did. However, he could never regret his niece and nephew which came from this questionable business-like union.

Bloop-bloop-bloop.

Speaking of which…

“Hey Uncle Bumi!”

“Hello there, cloudchild!” Bumi greeted his niece with a nickname his sister Kya came up with, given that the kids were actually born somewhere near the mountains. “How’s the new school?”

“It’s great!” Ikki beamed at him and gushed into a long narrative of what she had been up to in the past days.

Bumi enjoyed video conferencing with his niece and nephew. Granted, Meelo had a short attention span but Ikki had always had the flair for storytelling.

It pleased him to see her spark back. He had heard from his brother and their trusted bodyguard/chauffeur Shung that Ikki had been withdrawn during the first weeks in Republic City. It saddened him to learn that the otherwise bubbly child had been affected in that way.

“…And then, I invited her over! Daddy said it was okay – and she’s sooooo nice. Didjaknow she also knows how to play the piano! We practiced a bit. She’s good even if her family didn’t have a piano, they only had this electronic keyboard but it’s so short. But she did well. She said she had a stepdad and it was totally okay. They’re a happy family. D’you think I’ll have a stepmom too? I think it would be okay if Daddy thinks so and maybe we’ll be a happy family here too and you know I joined this contest in school and I-.”

“Whoa, slow down, kiddo.” Bumi let out his booming laughter. “I didn’t quite catch it – what’s the name of your new friend?” He was heartened that Ikki seemed to have adjusted better now.

“Jinora!” His seven-year-old niece practically chirped the name. “She’s actually here!” Ikki turned to someone from beyond the view of the webcam. “Jin, it’s my Uncle Bumi – I want you to meet him!”

“Um, it’s fine, Ikki.” A calm voice of an older child can be heard. “I can wait here.”

“Nooonseeense.” Bumi could see Ikki pull something, rather someone to the camera. “Uncle Bumi, this is my friend Jinora. Jinora, my Uncle Bumi.” She said by way of introducing them.

Jinora gives a small wave and a soft hello.

Bumi gives them a short bow. “Nice to meet you, Jinora. It’s great to meet the friend of my favorite niece (Ikki please don’t tell Korra).”

Ikki gives a delighted clap and proceeds into another lengthy tale on what she and Jinora were working on that day at home.

Bumi smiles back at them, observing the children’s banter as they demonstrate the monologue that Ikki was preparing for. It was amusing.

Heh, they could be cousins.

He recalled when he was young, he, his siblings and even the sisters-who-must-not-be-named would stay over in one house after school to work on school projects. It had been one of the highlights of his childhood. He was glad that his niece would be somewhat experience it; he had been worried a few years back when Tenzin and Pema (primarily Pema) were very protective of their kids. It was to the point that they were both homeschooled and basically kept out of the public eye and the public itself.

It can’t be good for socialization. But what can he say? He didn’t have kids so he probably wouldn’t know what he was talking about, right?

He’s just fun ole Uncle Bumi.

Nonetheless, as he turned his attention back to the two girls, Bumi promised himself that he will always be there for his brother’s kids. It’s the least he could do as their godfather.

---

Mako, Republic City High

“I worry about Mom.” Mako picked at his dumplings during lunch time, a stark contrast to his brother who was eating a lot (“Coach said I needed to bulk up!”).

“Why? Has my dad been overworking her?” Asami slipped beside him at their usual lunch table. She brought out her packed lunch of pasta and a bottle of coconut water. “Just let me know and I can try to look into it.” She was, after all, interning at Future Industries in her spare time.

“Now that’s just powerplay.” The exchange student from Ba Sing Se High chortled, taking a sip of his sparkling water. “And that’s a no-no and Auntie will definitely get mad if she hears about that.”

“You would know about powerplay,” Bolin swallowed a mouthful of chicken, pointing his fork at the other boy. “Wasn’t that why you got the last slot in the elective you wanted to take this year?”

“Who? Me?” The other boy dramatically placed a hand on his chest, eyes widening. “You think, I Wu would stoop so low as to manipulate the results of the audition for the voice elective? Don’t you think I have enough talent to get into that class?”

Bolin just snorted into his food and Asami choked on her drink. Wu cracked a smile at their reactions.

“Again, Wu – don’t let Mom hear you call her Auntie.” Mako reiterated for the nth time in their friendship. “She hates it.”

“That’s why I do it.” Wu winked at them.

“Wait, Mako, what were you saying about Mom?” Bolin managed to ask in between bites of food. “Is something wrong? I mean, she’s a little bit run-down but she said it’s just because of the time of the year.” The last quarter of the year, after all, is usually the busiest.

“No, it’s just – well,” Mako sought words to explain it. “I’ll be leaving for college, you’ll be away for training, and okay, Jinora would be there but she’s in middle school now…” He trailed off. With Jinora’s aptitude and interests, Mako would not be surprised if she took on a lot of electives and extra-curricular activities. “Mom works too hard, you know?” He ended lamely.

“She has always looked out for us, but yeah,” A shadow passed over his brother’s face. “Ever since Pa passed away a few years back, she poured much of her energy to ensuring our welfare. She’s barely spent time for herself.”

Mako met Bolin’s now worried eyes.

The brothers knew that their mom had sacrificed a lot for them and Jinora.

When they first met Lin and one-year-old Jinora, she had already been under a lot of duress – taking care of a baby, leaving behind Jinora’s deadbeat dad, settling down in a new neighborhood and restarting a career. It had been two years later when she married their father San, who had been a sergeant at the city’s police station at the time.

And, Mako thought wearily, history has not been kind to Lin Beifong at all. While they did have four years (four wonderful years that Mako will treasure for the rest of his life), their fairytale-like family life came to an abrupt end.

San was involved in an armed bank robbery four years later and had not survived the gunshot wounds – leaving Lin behind with two boys at the brink of puberty and a young daughter.

Bolin and Jinora had been very confused at the time. Mako, already fifteen, had been expecting that he and Bolin would be forced into the system or sent off to their relatives in Ba Sing Se. He felt that Lin would not be in any way obligated to take him and his brother in; they were not blood relatives anyway. They were just stepchildren.

To his stunned astonishment, Lin did neither. He recalled crying in Lin’s arms that night after his father’s funeral.

She had asked him, with a confused expression, why he was packing. Lin wept alongside him as she explained that Mako and Bolin are her sons and there was no way that she was sending them away.

Since then, Mako made sure to look after his mom the way she looked after them. The brothers’ protectiveness was soon well-known in their neighborhood.

Probably also why no one had expressed any type of interest towards Lin even years after…

Mako reflected that it might have been a good move on their part but now it might have been a little bit selfish.

He and Bolin would now need to rethink their strategy…

After all, their mom Lin deserves all the happiness in the world.

---

Tenzin, Republic City Primary School – Parking Lot

“Are you sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to have a sleepover?” Tenzin looked over at his daughter, a teasing grin out of place on his face.

“Of course not, Daddy.” Ikki replied indignantly, kicking pebbles as they waited at the parking lot.

“Why can’t you do the project at our house?” He was actually leaning towards allowing Ikki on her first ever sleepover/overnight but he wanted to hear from his daughter.

“We’ll need a big big printer, Daddy.” Ikki raised her arms to show him just how big. “We’ll need to print out my project and Jinora’s mommy has a big printer and lamin-lami-lamintor (“Laminating machine, dear?” Tenzin clarified.) because she frilancets (“Freelances?”).”

“Mmhhmm.” Tenzin looked across the school building, shifting Ikki’s overnight bag on his shoulder.

Ikki timidly approached him the other night, asking if she could spend Friday night and Saturday at her friend Jinora’s house. They had an output required of them of the big sister-little sister program. Tenzin was actually unclear as to what is the specific output that the girls had decided on but it did require a large-scale printer and a laminating machine.

Jinora attempted to explain to him what they were going to do during the last week that they were in his house but he felt out of his depth so he had nodded and let them work on what they needed to.

The father had met Jinora several times already in the past months so he knew the child was in earnest that their intent for the overnight activity would be mainly to finish a project. He also realized (well, Bumi made him realize) that Ikki was old enough for a sleepover (and Pema’s overprotectiveness would be to the detriment of their kids’ development). Additionally, he thought grimly, it would also keep Meelo from wreaking havoc on the work area of the girls.

Nonetheless, he took up Jinora’s mom’s offer to meet up for snacks before she takes the kids home. This would give him a chance to meet the mom, discuss some ground rules and as well thank the mom privately for letting Jinora help Ikki come out of her shell during her first months in Republic City Primary. Jinora did say that her pa and mom used to do the same before she spends the night over at her other friends – the parents meet up, share a small meal, get to know each other. Tenzin thought this was a good parenting tactic; it would definitely assuage his fears as well.

But now, said mom was late.

Jinora had hurried to them, dragging with her a large cartolina and illustration board. She explained that her mom’s work meeting overran and if it would be okay if she rode with them? Her mom will be meeting them at the local diner instead, so they don’t get caught up in traffic.

Tenzin could feel his impatience growing.

So far, this woman was not making a good impression on him.

How on earth she produced a lovely daughter like Jinora was beyond him.

---

Lin, Narook’s

Damn Sato, Lin ground her teeth as she finally parked her car into the last parking space in front of Narook’s. Of all the days for a meeting to go over time, it has to be today when she had explicitly asked to leave early to fetch her daughter.

Jinora had provided her enough context to know that making a good impression with Ikki’s dad was important to her daughter.

Lin heard that the dad was some big shot divorced corporate guy, who, she thought, was a bit paranoid about his kids’ safety.

Lin acted as an arts club moderator so she was regularly present at the Republic City High, which gave her chances to meet Ikki whenever she drops by the primary school to fetch Jinora.

The girl was a sweet child – energetic and delightful once she felt comfortable enough with you. It had come to her attention, in the short conversations with the kid, that she was not allowed to go out and play with other kids in their old neighborhood so she was very much excited to have a new friend outside of her class and her family.

When Jinora mentioned their culminating project and their dilemma on the timeline and materials, Lin suggested that they take the project home to work on.

The crestfallen expression of Ikki as she stated that her dad would not allow her pushed Lin to share that she’s willing to talk to the dad to help convince him to give his permission.

The infectious smile that burst on Ikki’s face was enough to convince Lin that she made the right decision.

Now, however, as she entered the diner, spotting her daughter at the corner booth, she froze and started to doubt all her life decisions that led to this moment.

Wondering and questioning the universe what had she done in her past life for her to deserve this.

Across Jinora, beside the talkative Ikki, sat Tenzin – her former boyfriend and Jinora’s father.

---

Note: Soooo hmmmmmm. What do you think?

#linzin #linzin fanfic #legend of korra #lin beifong #tenzin #jinora #ikki #mako #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina wip

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youngjusticeslut · 5 years ago

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You and I, Right or Wrong Chapter 4

Fandom: Young Justice Links: AO3 // FF.net Characters: Roy/Will Harper, Jade Nguyen Ships: CheshRoy/RedCat Summary: A collection of short drabbles centered around CheshRoy. Inspired by a Discord prompt challenge to get the writing flowing again.

Prompt #4: The more the merrier

Rating: T+ Word Count: 1,049 words Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters

Jade cracked an eye open, having heard a squeak from the other room. A smirk crawled across her lips, turning to face Roy. “She’s awake.”

“There’s no way,” Roy muttered without opening his eyes. “I just put her back to bed an hour ago.”

“You deny my mother’s intuition?”

“One hundred percent. Your intuition let her play with knives yesterday.” Jade rolled her eyes; seems he still hadn’t gotten over that. Baby. She moved to sit up, only to be stopped by her husband. “Don’t get up. I’m telling you, there’s no way she’s up,” he repeated, snaking an arm around her waist.

The continued creaking in the other room proved him very much incorrect, but it would take at least five minutes for Lian to finagle her way out of the crib, so Jade obliged him. It wasn’t often they were together like this. “You’re awfully cuddly today.”

“Bite me.”

“Is that a request?” Jade inched closer, grinning before she nibbled his earlobe. Her husband groaned, his hand snaking downwards and grasping her thigh. She was careful to pull away after a few moments of teasing, not needing their toddler to barge in on them like this.

Roy frowned, his eyes still closed. “You’re mean.”

“I’m an assassin.”

“Yeah, a mean one.”

Jade had to hold back a laugh, instead pushing back some hair that fell into his face. “You still haven’t opened your eyes.”

“I read somewhere that keeping your eyes closed is almost as good as napping.” He groaned, a pitiful, unattractive sound that came out almost like a whine. “I’m exhausted, Chesh.”

She understood exhaustion all too well. Lian was a precocious toddler, always on her feet and far too curious for her own good. On top of that, she was a terrible sleeper. Artemis helped out when she was home, but with her classes having resumed the past month, they were usually on their own. For the most part they handled it well. It was mornings like these, however, when they had a few minutes of peace to themselves, that they truly missed what used to be.

Still, neither of them regretted it for a single moment; they loved their daughter an absurd amount. In their own way, of course. Her and Roy weren’t ones for being overly affectionate, but Lian knew she was loved. Or so they liked to think.

“More exhausted than when we escaped the Shadows in Port-de-France?” Jade asked, her hand still tangled in his hair.

Roy thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “Not that exhausted.” They were interrupted by the unsteady pitter-patter of toddler feet, followed by the telling creak of their bedroom door being pushed open. “No,” Roy groaned, finally opening his eyes.

“Told you.”

Jade sat up, putting on a smile as she glanced at Lian. The toddler grinned, completely innocent and unaware of her parents’ exhaustion. “Hi Mama,” she said, waddling over to the side of the bed. “Up?”

“Why not?” Jade said, mostly to herself before reaching for her daughter. “The more the merrier.”

Roy grunted, nudging Jade in the side. “Magic word.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“She needs to say please.”

This whole schtick again. She should have known better, Roy was insistent on teaching Lian ‘manners’. His success was variable, given that the kid wasn’t even two. “It’s too early for this, Red.”

“I don’t care. Our daughter will say please and thank you.”

“Big talk from someone still half asleep.” Lian whined from the side of the bed, her arms impatiently waving in the air, waiting to be scooped up. Jade sighed, as dramatically as she could, giving her daughter an apologetic look. “What’s the magic word?”

Lian frowned. “Up!”

“Just say please, kid, before your dad has an aneurysm.”

“Peas up!” The attempt was good enough for Jade. With a grin, she picked Lian up, smoothing down her unruly bedhead. In return, Lian flung her arms around her mother’s neck with a grin, nestling her head comfortably against her shoulder.

Sometimes, even Jade wondered where this kid had come from. Surely she hadn’t birthed such a kind, cuddly thing. Usually, not too long after these thoughts surfaced, Lian would throw her toy with a sharp accuracy at it’s target, or give such a scowl that Jade couldn’t deny that she was her kid if she tried.

“Aunty Mouse?” Lian asked, looking around for her aunt.

“Not today, Lian. She had classes to go to. Some bullshit about being a responsible adult. Lame, right?”

“Language, Jade. Do you want her going around saying ‘bullshit’?”

“Honestly?” It would be pretty funny. Jade would love to get a call from the daycare teacher if Lian’s language was the reason why. No, instead it was always these pointless summary reports, telling them how great their toddler was doing. Was there any parent who truly cared how many goldfish their child ate at daycare?

“Oh, forget it,” Roy scoffed, finally sitting up. The movement caught Lian’s attention; she eagerly lifted her head and reached for him with an enthusiastic ‘dadd-ee!’. Jade was more than happy to hand her over, letting Roy take the lead for a couple of moments.

While he asked how Lian slept and tried to stimulate some kind of conversation, Jade went to brush her teeth and wash her face. Admittedly, it wasn’t the worst morning she’d ever spent. While it was a tad too domestic for her taste, she couldn’t deny the sense of security she felt, just lying in bed with Roy and their daughter.

Jade lingered in the bathroom, listening to Lian’s baby voice go on about something even she couldn’t make out, unable to stop the sinking feeling in her chest. How much longer did she have to spend with them? How many more mornings did she have, just listening to their conversations, seeing the smile on her daughter’s face, or feel the touch of her husband’s hands on her body?

With a deep sigh, she knew it wouldn’t be very many.

#roy harper #jade nguyen #lian harper #young justice #tj #ariel's writing #my drabbles #fluffy fluff #domestic #this is the only one you'll get #I mean it this time

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kyndaris · 4 years ago

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Parables of Our Times

Right after finishing a very high-octane, action-heavy title, I thought it best to slow down and try my hand at a game that had tickled my curiosity for a good long while. Considering how much I enjoyed Gone Home, Tacoma and The Vanishing of Ethan Carter, it came as a surprise when I finished Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture with very mixed feelings. Instead of falling in love with a quaint English town and the mystery surrounding the disappearance of the people that had lived there, I was tempted after an hour or so of play to stop and try my hand at something else.

I can’t rightly pinpoint what exactly about the game, from developer The Chinese Room, did not sit right with me. After scouring the internet, I feel like it must have been the pace of the game and the lack of objects that could be interacted with. From the very beginning, it felt as if the playable character moved at a snail’s pace. Other titles that might be considered ‘walking simulators’ in their own right felt faster, or were perhaps more dense. Even holding down R2 did not elevate how slow I moved around the world. In fact, the speed was also detrimental to my desire to explore and see more of the town I found myself in. Why bother heading to a particular point of interest if it took forever and a day to reach it and head back to the critical path?

Additionally, the lack of objects that could be picked up and studied also served to dull my interest. In fact, other than with doors and the occasional radio, the only other thing that I could interact with were strange globules of light that required the controller be tilted either left or right. The controls for this, in particular, did not seem very intuitive and the prompt at the beginning did not anchor in my head until I found my third ball of light.

What I did like were the revelations about each named character and the other individuals that lived in the town. Whether that was Wendy trying to meddle in the love lives of her son and his previous beau (as well as her disdain for his American wife), to the interactions between Jeremy and those that attended his church.

While the conversations proved illuminating when it came to understanding the many different individuals that lived in Yaughton, Shropshire, I feel like it was a missed opportunity that other ways to tell the story were not included.

The mystery behind the disappearing populace - supposedly a sudden influx of Spanish influenza - did prove to be intriguing. After exploring the first area, it was clear that this was something more. The tissues covered in blood and the recording made by the local physician only served to heighten the possibilities of what was truly going on. As the story continues, the player learns that a strange phenomenon may be the actual cause. Fearful, Stephen Appleton calls on the government to spray nerve gas over the entire town to stop the spread of this alien contagion.

In many ways, the quarantine that surrounded the town is reminiscent of our current battle with COVID-19. Locked in our homes, unable to venture overseas or even cross state lines has proven a difficult enterprise for many. And like some of the characters in the game, there have been the occasional individuals that have tried to sneak past borders or lied to authorities their actual movements in order to be allowed sanctuary in another state or city.

Fortunately, we have yet to be turned into dust and sucked up into a glowing pattern of light. Whether it’s meant to be considered an alien or a concept of faith is unclear. What is strange in Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture is that only humans were infected. Birds and cows simply dropped dead. There was no dusting a la the Thanos Snap in Avengers: Infinity War.

Speaking of which, Stephen feared that the contagion of light had traversed the phone lines and had spread outside the valley where the town of Yaughton was located. If that was the case, who is the playable character? Are we also a ball of light? After all, I had no feet or hands. I hardly heard any indication of footsteps. Yet, somehow, I could still get trapped on random geometry in the environment. Alas, a mystery to solve another time.

On the other side of the spectrum of games that I managed to finish quite quickly was The Walking Dead: The Final Season. After the whole debacle of Telltale shutting its doors due to unsustainable business practices and the game initially being released on Epic Games Store, I wasn’t quite certain if I would ever see Clementine’s story through to completion. Yet, fast forward a year or two and I managed to purchase it on Steam.

Clementine has always had a special place in my heart. After looking after her while playing as Lee Everett, I had watched as she grew up in a world that was very different from our own. Each subsequent game only seemed to further paint a grim and bleak future for humanity after the zombie apocalypse and I feared something terrible would happen to the little girl I found nestled in her tree house, waiting for her parents to return home.

In The Final Season, several years have passed and Clementine is in her late teens. With her is AJ, the son of Rebecca and a very precocious five year old. He seems incredibly mature for his age and behaves basically like a rebellious teenager. Except, of course, that he still has a very black and white view of the world. Shoot monsters in the head. Food and bullets are good. Clementine is the best.

What felt different in this title, rather than the ones before, is that after an encounter at an old railway station, Clementine is welcomed to a small community that is largely run by kids. Or, at the very least, teenagers that have also lived through the traumatic beginnings of the apocalypse. There are no adults - for many of the teachers abandoned these troubled youth at the first sign of danger. And instead of trying to prove herself in a world full of adults, Clementine is able to interact with people her own age or younger. Coupled with looking after AJ, she is the one that needs to be responsible and make sure that AJ doesn’t grow up to become a completely jaded ten-year old.

The narrative of The Final Season is centred around the Erikson Boarding School and the students there. Leader of the small group is Marlon, voiced by none other than Prince Noctis himself, Ray Chase. Violet and Louis came next in import. Then came Willy, Aasim, Ruby, Mitch, Omar and Tennessee. Oh, and mustn’t forget Brody. Voiced by Hedy Burress (or Yuna from Final Fantasy X)!

Interacting with this gaggle of kids was refreshing. Instead of suspicion, Clementine and AJ were met with curiosity. While Ruby might not have liked the fact that AJ bit her, or his eating habits, it was very easy to like each character and not have to dwell on what each person’s agenda was and wondering if they would betray the group.

Alas, Clementine’s good deed in trying to find more food leads to Brody freaking out when Clementine mentions meeting a scavenger also looking for food: Abel. The climax of the first chapter ends with the discovery that raiders have previously taken two members of the Erikson Boarding School kids and may have returned. But before Marlon could atone for his crimes, he is shot dead by AJ. Plot contrivances somehow allowed the five year old kid to pick up the gun that Marlon dropped by his feet, sneak up behind him and shoot him right in the head. Don’t ask me how.

The next two chapters proved excellent in building up the tension of confronting the raiders, one of which was Season 1 Lilly. I knew the instant that I had to once again select my choices from the previous titles that she would be making a reappearance. After all, she was a plot thread that had yet to be neatly tied into a bow. And despite everything - like the hardening of Clementine and making her a ruthless survivor - I could not order AJ to shoot the conniving ex-military woman.

In fact, I played Clementine as I did most of my other characters when it comes to role-playing games. Emphatic and desperately trying to make the right choices.

While the story did feel a little cliched with many familiar beats, I did feel strongly invested in trying to pass on everything I could to little AJ. In that, The Final Season felt like it came full circle with Clementine getting bitten and faced with the dilemma of turning or allowing herself to be killed. Rather than repeat what happened in the first season of The Walking Dead, however, the epilogue shows Clementine surviving her leg been haphazardly chopped off with an axe covered in walker guts.

How did she not manage to bleed out? Did the other kids manage to find her in the barn and free both her and AJ? How did she not die from infection?

Like many mediums that are set after the apocalypse, the humans here are hardy and tenacious. In a world where many of us are struggling with a pandemic that does not appear to be seasonal and with long-lasting symptoms that can affect individuals months after the initial diagnosis, it does feel like we’ve entered a nebulous stage of despair. Whole countries have been shut down, re-opened and sent straight back into lockdown when numbers have climbed. With summer approaching in Australia, it feels like the worst may have passed. But for the rest of the world in the northern hemisphere, winter is coming. With it comes the additional risks of normal flu and cold.

But what The Walking Dead: The Final Season left me with, despite how glum a zombie outbreak would bring, is that there is still the chance for hope. Of creating a family and living instead of surviving.

Even when society has collapsed and most have returned to old bartering systems or looking after their own crops, there is still light at the end of the tunnel.

#video games #everybody's gone to the rapture #the walking dead: the final season #clementine and AJ #pandemic

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makeste · 6 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 183: The Rest of the Cultural Festival

Previously on BnHA: Class 1-A brought the fucking house down. The band played their hearts out and the act literally opened with a bang thanks to the resident human incendiary device on drums. The dancers did their thing, and Aoyama played the role of both fireworks and disco ball. Sero, Mineta, and Todoroki combined their quirks to create paths of ice over the audience’s heads. Momo then shot out a bunch of confetti, and Ochako dove into the crowd and floated a bunch of people to have a dance party in mid-air. Iida doing the robot was the highlight of the chapter and indeed the whole manga, but Jirou was a close second, with an adorable flashback to when she first told her parents she wanted to be a hero instead of a musician, and they were the most supportive EVER, and it was amazing. Even the surly upperclassmen were won over by class A’s general vibe of awesomeness, and everyone danced their hearts out, and Eri was THRILLED and her smile was brighter than the sun and Mirio cried and oh my gosh you guys. I just feel bad for the rest of the classes that have to follow this act now lmao.

Today on BnHA: Class 1-B puts on the most audacious fanfiction-turned-stage-play since Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. All Might informs Deku that he has 47 missed calls and next time would it kill him to PICK UP HIS GODDAMN CELL PHONE jesus christ. Hounddog rips Deku a new one and tells him to be more careful in the future and throws him 20 feet into the air and tells him to go have fun. Eri is so fucking cute that I almost burst into tears just from how cute she is. The surly upperclassmen apologize for their shit attitudes and vow to spread the word of how class 1-A is actually really fucking cool. Kendou, Kenranzaki, and Hadou battle it out for the Miss Con title and Hadou finally wins the title after three years. The kids enjoy the rest of the festival, and Deku gives Eri a homemade candy apple before bidding her farewell. Down at the station, a nice gorilla man sits with with the detailed Gentle and Aiba. Gentle explains that Aiba was never directly involved in any crimes and accepts responsibility for his misdeeds, thus taking his first steps towards rehabilitation.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 207 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

okeedoke, I’m back and ready to finish up this arc and enter the next one which has been much-hyped thus far!

but first, class 1-B’s copyright-infringing play!

I really didn’t think chapter 182 could be topped, but somehow 183 has managed to do it in a single page. I’m speechless

also, the fact that they’ve literally done the “I am your father scene” here kind of makes the Dad for One theory slightly less likely

-- OR DOES IT. maybe this is just meant to throw us off our guard! I won’t give up!!

and now everyone’s walking out afterwards and either critiquing it or talking about how awesome and funny it was

Kaminari is sad because class A didn’t get to see it because they were cleaning everything up from their program. awww

and meanwhile Deku is getting chewed out by his dad

“is he getting scolded?” YES

and he really has no excuse. he could have called, but he made a conscious decision not to. sure, it all worked out in the end, but he didn’t know that ahead of time! DEKU YOU’RE SO IRRESPONSIBLE

(ETA: apparently he forgot his phone. supposedly. I missed that line the first time around, but I have my suspicions as to whether or not that’s true though. phones these days are practically an extension of your body. I don’t care how much of a hurry you’re in, how do you just forget it?? you’d feel that it’s not in your pocket! I practically have a freaking anxiety attack if I so much as go downstairs to my building’s laundry room without my own phone. like holy shit what if I miss a text during the two and a half minutes it will take me to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer fffff.

anyway my point is that whether he forgot it or not, he’s still irresponsible. DEKU)

by the way is Shouto burning something in the background here? and Katsuki too. you guys were looking forward to this cleanup huh

so now Deku’s apologizing, and the sad thing is he probably is truly sorry. and yet you know that the very next time a situation like this comes along, he’s going to do the exact same thing

really, All Might just needs to not sign any more of those permission slips. he’s grounded. you’re grounded, Deku

and now Hounddog and Ecto are walking over

HAHAHAHA

gotta make sure all the kids are still terrified of you, huh

good lord this man has no concept of personal space

All Might is always lucking out, having other teachers nearby who are actually willing to be the bad cop. at least someone out here is laying down the law

anyway, Hounddog is of course 100% right and he’s the one Deku should really be apologizing to

hoLY SHIT

I need to do some rearranging of my favorite U.A. faculty list

truly, no one is safe

lmao Sero says he’s gonna call Deku “My First Errand” from now on omggggg. if y’all want to see some cute shit go google “hajimete no otsukai.” there’s a whole tv show about it. you can usually find a few subbed episodes on Dailymotion if nothing else (for instance here’s one). this is the show that makes you realize that four-year-old Katsuki and Izuku wandering in the woods with their friends really isn’t anything out of the ordinary. and it’s filled with adorable crybabies and also some really precocious kids who make me feel incompetent somehow despite being more than 30 years older than them

anyways HERE’S ERI

is someone videotaping this. please tell me someone’s videotaping this. these are precious childhood memories

also LOOK AT MIRIO COPYING HER HAND GESTURES I CAN’T. I’M GOING TO DIE. OF CUTENESS

my god I want to make it my icon so bad but it’s a giant spoiler so I can’t ;______; [reaches out longingly to the two of them]

waaaaaah anyways

Deku is wiping his eyes because OF COURSE he started crying but he doesn’t want her to see lol

and he says he’s glad she enjoyed it

[folds chin in hands] I’m just going to enjoy this for as long as possible. life is good. in this moment, everything is perfect

aaaaaand now Mineta is running over and screaming at Deku for not helping them clean up

I really want to be mad at him for ruining the moment and also just for being Mineta in general. but there’s nothing worse than someone who just sits around goofing off while everyone else is working hard, so I can begrudgingly relate. STOP HANGING OUT WITH THE CUTE KID AND HELP US. you can hang out with the cute kid later Deku

a bunch of kids are walking by (I guess on their way back from the play) and waving at class A and saying their program was awesome and they loved it

Kirishima is thrilled and he’s grinning and thanking them

well LOOK WHO IT IS

DO YOU TWO HAVE ANYTHING YOU WOULD LIKE TO SAY

oh shit

lmao they made Kacchan’s day

YES THERE FUCKING WAS. THEY PURPOSELY GOT WITHIN KATSUKI’S HEARING RANGE TO TRASH HIM AND HIS CLASS ALL PASSIVE AGGRESSIVELY FOR NO REASON. THEY KNOW WHAT THEY DID

it’s good that they apologized for it. although we may need to watch out now and make sure that it hasn’t gone to this one’s head lol

Kiri’s turning to Iida and asking if those were the stressed out people Aizawa was talking about

oh my god Iida why are you so cute

sometimes I forget how much I love Iida and then he makes this face and my heart belongs to him

now Iida is saying that some people didn’t get a chance to see their performance and thus might still be stressed and so they need to continue to do their best or whatever

but the random bystanders are saying that they understand class A’s feelings and what their intention was when planning all this, and now that spirit has been passed on to them

and so they’re going to pass those sentiments along to others! hooray. pay it forward

and also surely someone got the performance on video too?? I NEED THERE TO BE VIDEOS OF EVERYTHING OKAY

Mina is happily elbowing Jirou and saying she must be pleased

and now Iida is bowing at a full 90-degree angle and saying they are forever grateful. lol this guy

Bakugou says he’s not grateful, and it seems he wants to give whoever didn’t bother to come to their performance a piece of his mind. lol this kid

now Mineta is screaming at people again to help him finish up cleaning

and it turns out it’s because he doesn’t want to miss the Miss Con

and now we’re at Miss Con! I guess

YESSSS GO KENDOU

IT’S SO STUPID TO DO THAT IN A FUCKING BALLGOWN BUT GODDAMN SHE’S SO BADASS THOUGH

but now Lashes is riding in on a giant tank in the shape of her face

have to say this is one of the more surreal things that’s happened in this manga thus far

(ETA: nothing to see here guys. just normal beauty pageant stuff. martial arts and tanks)

AHHHHHHHH

IS ERI SITTING ON DEKU’S LAP I CAN’T OMG I’M DYING AGAIN. MY SOUL IS LEAVING MY BODY. I’M SO CONTENT. I FEEL AT PEACE

Monoma’s watching everything with a weird face, and meanwhile Kirishima is congratulating him and Tetsu on how their play went. and Tetsu’s congratulating him on the concert. nothin’ but good vibes here

here comes Hadou!

her classmates are rooting for her and Tamaki is folded over about to be consumed by nerves lol

deep breaths, Tamaki. deep breaths

I guess this is Tamaki thinking now? or the General Narrator? or possibly Hadou’s other friend?

well whoever it is, the thought bubbles are saying that Hadou lost last year because she tried to take on Kenranzaki in flashiness, which is where Kenranzaki shines. but Hadou has her own strengths

lol she’s floating around like Tinkerbell and everyone is mesmerized

gurllll you got this gurlll

now she’s landing and everyone’s applauding

and voting has been opened and results will be announced at the end of the day at 5 p.m.

LOOK AT CLASS A HAVING FUN

I CROPPED OUT MINETA SO WE CAN ENJOY THIS TO THE FULLEST

LOOK AT THIS MONTAGE OF GOOD TIMES!!!

I WANT TO SEE BAKUGOU COMPETE ON A FULL SCALE NINJA WARRIOR COURSE. HE’S HAVING A BLAST

WTF IS THIS RAT PRINCIPAL/TODOROKI HYBRID. I’M SO CONFUSED AND TERRIFIED

CREPESSSSSS

THEY GAVE ERI ONE! I HOPE SHE LOVED IT!! BUT REMEMBER, APPLES ARE HER FAVORITE!! CANDY APPLES, YOU PROMISED MIRIO

IS THAT SHINSOU IN THE HAUNTED MAZE?? LOL

IS THIS THE FIRST TIME WE’VE EVER SEEN MEI IN HER UNIFORM? SHE ACTUALLY DID CLEAN UP, HOW ABOUT THAT

IS THAT A CEMENTOSS JUICE BOX

I HAD TO POST THIS PANEL SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE LESBIANS!! AND JUICE BOX!!

HADOU WON THE COMPETITION YAYYYYYY

MEI GOT TO SLEEP YAYYYY

EVERYONE IS SO HAPPY!! TO THINK GENTLE ALMOST RUINED THIS. BUT ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

and now it’s the end of the day and Deku’s saying goodbye to Eri

awwww she looks glum again. it was such a fun day she probably doesn’t want it to end :(

Deku’s telling her to look up at him!

AHHHHHHHHHH

HE REMEMBEREDDDD

at least someone did. Mirio

YOU SHOULD HAVE LOOKED HARDER!

oh lol actually Deku says he realized they might not have any after he looked at the program, so he bought the ingredients when he went shopping earlier

ohhh so that’s what was up with that panel of him in the kitchen in the midst of all the festival happenings. I was wondering about that

LOOK AT DADZAWA

YOU DID ADOPT HER RIGHT. RIGHT. RIGHT???

(ETA: GOD BLESS YOU AIZAWA SHOUTA)

she’s eating the apple!

she loves it!! she says it’s sweeter than a regular apple. that’s cuz it’s LITERALLY DIPPED IN MELTED SUGAR, ERI

so she’s leaving and it’s a much happier farewell now! awwwww

and Deku’s turning back and reaching toward the gate

and then he’s stopping and shaking out his right hand

oh that’s right. it’s probably sore from earlier

and now we’re cutting back to the police station and the cops are interrogating La Brava

lollll

“NO” :|

she says she only wants to be useful to Gentle

well Gentle’s gonna be in prison for a while so you might want to think of some backup options kiddo

now a literal gorilla is interrogating Gentle and he says they’ll be able to tell if La Brava really was brainwashed

but even though the jig is up, Gentle’s still trying to protect her

well yeah. and also even if she wasn’t brainwashed by a quirk, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t actually brainwashed. she was in a vulnerable state of mind and he took advantage of that. even if there was mutual affection on both sides

now Kerchak here is looking at his records. “a high school drop-out, previously in the hero department, and now a producer of criminal videos, huh?”

Gentle says he remembered his dream and he just started running towards it

Kerchak says if that’s the case, it’s a good thing they stopped him today

awww. possible redemption on the horizon, perhaps? these cops are pretty nice huh

now Kerchak is asking if Gentle drinks tea

and Gentle’s asking for black tea, and Kerchak says they only have instant. aww. lol

and the text is all “even here, someone was saved”

and that’s the end!

what a wholesome fucking arc. oh my goodness

BONUS: here’s Hadou’s school friend, Yuuyu!

she’s Hadou’s best friend! I love her!

and she’s not wrong about her being the cutest thing in the galaxy tbh. also this line makes me think “best friend” ought to be crossed out and replaced with “girlfriend” if we’re being honest here

lol at the explanation for why dyed hair and piercings are allowed even though they wouldn’t be in a real life school as prestigious as U.A. listen. we got that. look at Midnight. look at Aizawa. clearly U.A. is not particularly hung up on dress codes. I’m just saying

#bnha #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #hounddog (bnha)#eri (bnha)#hadou nejire #gentle (bnha)#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #y'all know I have headcanons about mitsuki and inko sending katsuki and izuku on their first errand together when they were like two #katsuki is incredibly proud and boasts to everyone he sees about how they're on an errand all by themselves!#meanwhile izuku starts bawling the minute their moms are out of visual range #and he keeps on crying until katsuki gets fed up and tells him he needs to stop!#because he's not a little baby anymore!#and he needs to be tough like all might!#all might wouldn't cry!!#and izuku is all :O and spends the rest of the errand following katsuki in silent awe #this is probably when his crush first really develops tbh #wow~ kacchan is so cool~~#in the end the errand is mostly successful except that kacchan buys his favorite type of curry instead of the one his mom told him to buy #but no one died or anything so hey #I'd call that a win

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recentanimenews · 5 years ago

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Monster Mash? Non-Scary Anime for Halloween Wimps

Halloween is generally viewed as a season of supernatural thrills, but some us—even some of us who routinely watch horror movies or read scary stories—aren't always in the mood for the terrifying and the macabre. Some of us, in fact, are gigantic, rubbery babies when it comes to anything more frightening than E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial, so what are we supposed to do when October rolls around and suddenly the Internet is flush with features proclaiming which scary anime are essential Halloween viewing?

Fear not, gentle reader, for this article features nothing but the cutest, funniest, gentlest, or strangest viewer recommendations for anime involving things that go bump in the night. Below please find (in alphabetical order) a curated chronicle of some nine shows that are more sweet than spooky.

Actually, I Am

Year Aired: 2015

Contents: Vampires, demons, gender-bending werewolves, very tiny aliens

Profile: When Asahi Kuromine's would-be crush, Yoko Shiragami, turns out to be a vampire in disguise, she's allowed to continue attending the same school as her human friends so long as no one else learns her true identity, a task that is complicated by Asahi's general inability to keep quiet as well as the presence of numerous other supernatural entities among the class and faculty.

Comfort Level: A cozy evening under the kotatsu, with plenty of mandarin oranges on hand.

Where you can find it: Actually, I Am is currently streaming on Crunchyroll, and the series is also released on DVD and Bluray in North America by Eastern Star. An English language version of the original manga is available from Seven Seas Entertainment under the title My Monster Secret.

Cuticle Detective Inaba

Year Aired: 2013

Contents: Werewolves, mad scientists, goats with a penchant for organized crime

Profile: Former police dog turned private detective Hiroshi Inaba (who is also a werewolf) was ready to leave his old life behind, but his previous partner keeps dragging him into investigations involving the nefarious Valentino Family, a Mafia organization led by Don Valentino, for whom the letters “g.o.a.t.” take on a meaning other than “greatest of all time”.

Comfort Level: A play session with a friendly but precocious puppy.

Where you can find it: Cuticle Detective Inaba is currently streaming on Crunchyroll, and the series is also available on Bluray and DVD from Sentai Filmworks.

Demon Girl Next Door, The

Year Aired: 2019

Contents: Demon girls, magical girls, overly dramatic familiars

Profile: One day, Yuko Yoshida awakens to her dark destiny as “Shadow Mistress Yuko” (“Shamiko” for short) and learns that she must spill the blood of a magical girl in order to break the seal on her family's diabolical powers. Unfortunately, Shamiko's a complete wuss who can't even throw a punch and the local magical girl, Momo Chiyoda, is a physical powerhouse, so the two end up becoming close friends instead.

Comfort Level: Winning a particularly grueling thumb-wrestling match against your kid cousin.

Where you can find it: The Demon Girl Next Door is currently streaming on HIDIVE and VRV.

Don Dracula

Year Aired: 1982

Contents: Vampires, vampire hunters, enthusiastic large women who long to be bitten

Profile: A horror-themed comedy based on the manga by none-other-than Osamu Tezuka himself, Don Dracula only managed to animate 8 episodes before the commercial sponsors funding it went bankrupt. Highlights of the series include Dracula's cute daughter, Chocola, and Van Helsing having an intestinal emergency and taking a poop in Dracula's coffin.

Comfort Level: Realizing that even people regarded as artistic geniuses have a few turkeys in their body of work.

Where you can find it: Don Dracula used to be available via streaming on Viki and YouTube, but at the time of this writing, these videos are no longer available in the United States.

Flying Witch

Year Aired: 2016

Contents: Witches, seasonal spirits, vegetables with a threatening aura

Profile: A cozy little tale that follows the apprentice training of a would-be witch with no sense of direction as she lives with her cousins in the Japanese countryside, Flying Witch celebrates all of the little things that make life worth living, such as gathering wild herbs, spontaneously chasing pheasants, and making poor life decisions after imbibing a few too many adult beverages.

Comfort Level: Being swaddled in your warmest blanket with a warm cup of cocoa (complete with marshmallows) on a chilly winter day.

Where you can find it: Flying Witch is currently streaming on Crunchyroll, and the series is also released on DVD and Bluray in North America by Sentai Filmworks. An English language version of the Flying Witch manga is published by Vertical.

How to Keep a Mummy

Year Aired: 2018

Contents: Tiny mummies, tiny dragons, tiny creatures of myth and folklore

Profile: Caring for an animal companion can be a huge responsibility, but what if the pet in question is an ancient Egyptian mummy that can fit in the palm of your hand? How to Keep a Mummy is a short-form series that's sure to deliver bite-sized moments of bliss for even the sternest monster-lovers.

Comfort Level: A sixty minute YouTube compilation of pandas falling over, set to smooth jazz.

Where you can find it: How to Keep a Mummy is currently streaming on Crunchyroll.

Interviews with Monster Girls

Year Aired: 2017

Contents: Teenage vampires, teenage yuki onna, teenage dullahans, teacher succubi

Profile: Overcoming physical disabilities and pushing back against social stigmas are a daily challenge for the demihuman high school students in this heart-warming and humorous TV anime based on the manga by Petos. And you thought your adolescence was weird...

Comfort Level: The realization, muted by the distance of decades, that maybe high school wasn't that terrible after all.

Where you can find it: Interviews with Monster Girls is currently streaming on Crunchyroll. An English language version of the original manga is available from Kodansha Comics, and the series is released in North America on a Bluray/DVD combo pack by Funimation.

Is This a Zombie?

Years Aired: 2011 - 2012

Contents: Zombies, necromancers, ninja vampires, magical garment girls

Profile: Ayumu Aikawa is an ordinary high school student who has to deal with the curse of undeath as well as a harem of supernatural interlopers including a reticent necromancer and a chainsaw-wielding magical girl in this light novel-based comedy that is silly, ultra-violent, and just a bit lewd.

Comfort Level: That numb, prickly sensation you get when you sleep in a weird position and your entire left arm falls asleep.

Where you can find it: Both seasons of Is This a Zombie? are currently streaming on Funimation, and Funimation also releases the series in North America on a Bluray/DVD combo pack. An English language version of the manga adaptation is also available from Yen Press.

Ms. Vampire who lives in my neighborhood.

Year Aired: 2018

Contents: Moe vampires, moe vampire enthusiasts, a thinly-disguised Amazon.com

Profile: It's a tale as old as time: girl meets girl. Girl loses girl. Girl discovers girl is a centuries old vampire, then gets girl back again by unceremoniously moving into her mansion along with her collection of creepy dolls. Vampire girl orders otaku merchandise online. Vampire girl's friends show up. Truly, it's a close encounter of the moe kind.

Comfort Level: The supreme satisfaction of ordering pizza online and then having it delivered straight to your door and eating it off of paper plates rather than cooking a real meal and then having to clean up the kitchen and the dishes afterwards.

Where you can find it: Ms. Vampire who lives in my neighborhood. is currently streaming on Crunchyroll.

And there you have it, a (mostly) wholesome list of monster-themed anime for celebrating the Halloween season in a not-too-spooky manner. The titles here are by no means exhaustive—we didn't even mention Toei's 1980 masterpiece, Dracula: Sovereign of the Damned (pictured above)—nor did we delve into other honorable mentions such as As Miss Beelzebub Likes it. or MONSTER MUSUME EVERYDAY LIFE WITH MONSTER GIRLS.

There's a whole world of cute and cuddly Halloween-appropriate anime out there, just waiting to be discovered. What are some of your favorite non-scary series? Let us know in the comments, and be sure to have a Happy Halloweeen!

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Paul Chapman is the host of The Greatest Movie EVER! Podcast and GME! Anime Fun Time.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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littlereyofsunlight · 6 years ago

Text

When the Holiday Spirit’s True

My Steggy Secret Santa gift for @lavellenchanted for the @steggyfanevents exchange. Happy happy and merry merry—I hope you enjoy the story AND have a wonderful 2019!

And these are the gifts we keep And this is the morning that we breathe And then we see These moments are the only gifts we need — In the Morning, Jack Johnson

“A penguin costume?” Peggy frowned down at the note Lillian handed her. “Whatever for?”

“Christmas pageant, Mummy!” Lillian replied, turning back to her after school snack.

“I’m quite certain there were no penguins present for the birth of Jesus, darling.” Peggy chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, thinking. “Still, your father should be able to sort you out something suitable.”

Later that evening, as Peggy worked through her backlog of emails from the Thanksgiving break, she overheard their precocious daughter in conversation with Steve.

“I’m gonna be a penguin, Dad.”

“Is that so?” Steve’s reply seemed a little distant. There was a splash and a gurgle in the background. Bathtime for Hal, then. “Why do you want to be a penguin?”

A beat. Peggy could imagine the look on Lily’s face as she thought through her response; their daughter was a little copy of Steve. “Well actually, the roles were assigned by Ms. Beckman and Mr. Lewis.” Another pause. “And penguin is better than a reindeer’s bottom.”

Splash. “Oh, sorry, buddy.” Steve apologized as the baby gave a shocked cry at the water Steve had no doubt surprised him with. “Lily, could you start again? Why did your teachers assign you the role of penguin?”

Lily’s long-suffering sigh was a scarily accurate copy of Peggy’s. “For the Christmas pageant, Daddy,” she explained, patience wearing thin, judging by her tone of voice.

“Christmas pageant?” Steve repeated, his own voice sharpening in that way Peggy knew foretold an oncoming rant.

“Yes, Dad, the Christmas pageant. There are reindeer and penguins and elves and we sing Silent Night and Jingle Bells and Come Y’All Faith-fool—”

“Come All Ye Faithful?”

“—and at the end Mr. Lewis comes out dressed like Santa.”

“Do you sing any other songs?”

“The big kids are singing.”

“What are they singing?”

“I don’t know, big kids songs.”

“Are they all about Christmas?”

“Yep.”

“Nothing about other holidays? Maybe Hanukkah?”

“What’s that?”

Steve, it turned out, was getting pretty good at that patented sigh as well. Peggy tuned him out as he explained the holiday to Lillian while finishing Hal’s bath. These emails weren’t going to reply to themselves, and she would need to nurse Hal soon.

Much later, after Lillian’s bedtime routine and another round of quieting fussy baby Hal back to sleep, Peggy’s eyelids were closed before she’d even crawled fully under the covers.

Steve cleared his throat as he tossed his balled-up socks into the hamper.

“If you put them through the wash and dryer that way, you’ll end up with damp sock balls in the fresh laundry.” She still hadn’t opened her eyes.

Peggy heard Steve move over to the hamper and pick out his socks. “Did you know about this?”

“I’ve been dealing with your socks for seven years, yes.”

That sigh again, as he sat heavily on his side of the bed. The mattress dipped and heaved, signs that Steve was arranging a mountain of pillows to sit up against. They were going to have a chat before she could sleep, it seemed. “Did you know about the Christmas pageant at Lily’s school?”

Peggy rolled over and looked at him, his handsome face so grave despite the subject matter. “She handed me a note about needing a penguin costume this afternoon.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

She blinked. What there was to not be okay with, she wasn’t sure.

He went on. “I know for a fact that several of Lily’s classmates practice faiths that don’t celebrate Christmas. This sounds exclusionary. All the songs they’re singing are Christmas songs. Some of them are hymns!”

“I’m not following, darling. Christmas seems like the dominant holiday this time of year.” Steve had been off on a mission just before Halloween, and by the time Peggy had realized she needed to get Lily a costume, half the stores had already switched to Christmas gear. Lilian had stoutly refused to go as one of Santa’s elves, resulting in a rather madcap dash across several neighborhood Duane Reades in search of the desired princess dress. Initially she’d wanted to go as Black Widow, but Peggy drew a line at catsuits on six year-olds.

“We send our child to a public school.”

“...I’m aware.” If he kept her up much later, Peggy would need to dig up some of those luxe under-eye masks Pepper had gifted her just to feel presentable in the morning.

Steve’s voice reached new levels of incredulous. “Separation of church and state?!”

Oh. “How very American,” she replied, a bit frosty.

But Steve was like a dog with a bone. Now that he had an inkling of how Christmas had taken over the entire month of December, he kept uncovering new traditions to be upset over.

One night he bolted up from his laptop, eyes wide. “This is madness!”

Peggy was nursing Hal (Peggy was always nursing Hal.) “Hmm?” She glanced up from the tablet perched precariously on her knee so she could skim a mission report.

“Did Lily tell you about the Elf on a Shelf?” Steve was using his Captain America voice already, and whenever he put that voice on at home, Peggy almost wished for another ten repeats of Baby Shark with their daughter belting along off-key.

“No, darling,” she said, deftly juggling baby and technology so Hal was at her other breast. “Is it a new television program?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought we agreed we’d limit her screen time.”

“So we did. What’s this Elf business, then?” Peggy tried to smile but then the baby made use of the tooth that had broken through just the other day.

Steve ignored her gasp of pain, building up a head of steam. “It seems most of her classmates wake up each morning to find this doll in a different spot, getting into some kind of trouble, as a reminder from Santa to be good.”

Peggy frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.” Hal was dozing off, so she motioned for Steve to swap with her. Her heart swelled briefly as she watched him cradle their son in his big hands. His spoiling-for-a-fight face softened as he looked down into Hal’s milk-drunk eyes, a shade lighter than Peggy’s, cinnamon rather than chocolate.

She took the proffered laptop and scanned the site Steve had been reading. “These are so elaborate!” She looked back at Steve. “Who has time to do all this?”

Steve tore his gaze from Hal’s face. “Peggy, this is just priming children to accept living in a surveillance state!”

Peggy shook her head, scrolling through the list of ideas, with photos illustrating the scenarios. “Those are teeny-tiny flapjacks. I can barely feed myself and our children, now I’ll have to feed an elf?”

An angry gurgle made Hal sound as though he was agreeing with one or both of his parents. But then he spit up all down Steve’s shirt, so the conversation was shelved.

On a video conference call at headquarters one afternoon, Peggy’s assistant interrupted her with something akin to semaphore or interpretive dance from the doorway of her office.

“Pardon me, Secretary General Guterres, it seems I’m needed urgently. I trust we can continue this conversation before the next assembly?” Peggy smiled and thanked the former prime minister before signing off.

Quinn stood there, wringing their hands. “Ms. Carter, I’m sorry to intrude—”

Peggy could feel her blood pressure rising. “And yet you have, so it better be life and death.” She heard their gulp from across the room.

“Well, ma’am, it’s your husband.”

She shot out of her chair. “Steve’s not on assignment, he took the month off.” She jabbed blindly at her phone, pressing the receiver to her ear with a shaky hand.

“No, ma’am, he’s not…” Quinn’s response faded from her hearing as the call connected and Peggy heard Steve’s cell ringing.

Peggy’s annoyance overtook her relief like a lion bringing down a sick gazelle. “If he took on something at the last minute without bloody clearing it with me, I swear to Christ—” There were any number of situations the organization had been monitoring over the last few weeks that could have blown up spectacularly, or certainly would, if Captain America chose to insert himself.

“Peggy?” Steve’s greeting sounded especially guilty, which only enraged her further.

“What have you done, you great impulsive pratt, what ridiculous endeavor has your god-complex led you to now?”

There was a moment of strained silence on the other end of the line, but Peggy didn’t hear gunfire or explosions or Clint Barton’s voice in the background, so that was slightly reassuring. Still, the utter gall of Steve to go running headlong into danger, with no thought to his wife or children at home.

Eventually, Steve found his voice. “God-complex?”

“Um, Director Carter?” Quinn had crept into the room and stood at her elbow, whispering.

“Out with it,” Peggy snapped, unclear whether she was speaking to her husband or her employee.

Quinn shrank back but managed to squeak out an answer. “Your daughter’s teachers wanted to speak with you about the emails Mr. Rogers keeps sending them about the holiday pageant.”

Peggy felt her eyes roll back into her head of their own accord. The Carter-Rogers family’s trademark sigh exploded from her lungs. “Steve.”

“Yes, love of my life?” She could picture the too-innocent look on his face just from his tone of voice.

Peggy counted to three, for all the good it did. “Have you left the tri-state area?”

“I am at our home in Brooklyn, with our children.” A faint “hello, Mummy!” sounded down the line. “Lily says hello.”

“Love and kisses,” she replied automatically.

“Did someone tell you I was somewhere else?”

Peggy raised an eyebrow at Quinn, who still stood there, pale-faced and sweating. “Not exactly. Now, what’s this about you emailing Lillian’s teachers?”

Another wary pause. “How much do you know?”

“I know we’ll need to come up with an extravagant offering, if they’re calling me to get you to back off.” Peggy leaned back in her chair and adjusted the waistband cutting into her stomach. “Honestly, Steve, you can’t dictate every aspect of our child’s education.”

Steve sniffed. “But I got them to add a Hanukkah song.”

“Well then, let’s say that’s the end of it, shall we? Give those poor young people a rest. Between you and Lillian, how are they to have any energy to deal with the rest of the class?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, contrite. “I’ll drop it. For this year.”

That would have to do. “Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me, Quinn and I need to review when it’s appropriate to interrupt calls with high-ranking members of international governing bodies.”

“Well, have a good afternoon. The kids and I can’t wait to have you home. Love you.”

“Likewise, darling,” Peggy replied. Then she hung up and turned the full force of her disappointed face on her assistant.

“Did you know that Immaculate Heart around the corner celebrates midnight Mass at ten pm?” Steve asked Peggy one afternoon as they folded the laundry side by side.

“I certainly did not,” she replied, focused on pairing Hal’s tiny socks. He’d soon grow out of them, and no part of him would ever be as small as he was now. Her baby was already so much bigger than when he’d been born. Soon enough, Hal wouldn’t be her baby any more. She closed her eyes against a sudden rush of tears.

Steve shook out a fitted sheet and handed two corners to Peggy without looking at her. They both stepped back and quickly tucked their corners, paired sides and folded in half, then quarters, then eighths. Steve smoothed out the wrinkles on the top fold, shaking his head. “I knew everything was going to be different from the moment I first came back.”

He put the sheet onto the linens pile. “But the thing of it is, the differences never stop. Every time I think I’ve gotten the hang of living now, something comes up to put me right back at square one.” He took up one of Lily’s tees, running his fingers over the puffy letters on the front that proclaimed her a “future engineer/princess” whenever she wore it. “I know we don’t go to church.” He folded the shirt, turning it into a tiny square of glittery fabric in his hands. “But going to Mass with Ma was one of our few Christmas traditions.”

Peggy stopped folding to look at Steve. “Darling,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “We can go, of course we can go.”

His eyes were shining when he looked up at her, the corner of his mouth quirked up in what might have been a smile. “Nah.” He scratched his nose. “If I can’t put Lily through three hours of mind-numbingly unintelligible Latin, what’s the point? And if Hal’s there, we run the risk of a dirty diaper smell combining with the incense into some kind of chemical weapon.”

Peggy laughed with him, but noted the way the corners of his eyes stayed tight. “Well, I could go with you, anyhow. It’s been a few years, but I bet I can still follow along all right.”

That earned her a real smile, at least.

Peggy contemplated, not for the first time, whether Natasha might be giving their daughter spy lessons. The cache of presents in the crawl space above the master closet seemed untouched, but as Lily had found every other hiding spot, Peggy wasn’t so sure that the little girl had just gotten better as covering her tracks. Her back twinged as she reached in to pull them down and she groaned.

“Peg? Everything okay?” Steve asked from the doorway, just back from his run.

She stepped gingerly down the ladder. “Could you please fetch the gifts at the back up there?” Peggy pressed her hands into the small of her back and stretched, feeling some of the tension release as she did. “Perhaps I’ll need to ask Santa for a massage,” she murmured to herself.

Steve handed down the packages to her while she admired the view of his back muscles in the too-tight workout gear he favored. As he came down with Lily’s final present in his hands, he puzzled over the tag. “From Santa?”

“Jolly old fellow, spreads Christmas cheer to good little girls and boys?” Peggy sorted through the other presents, checking the tape at the seams for signs of tampering.

He turned the box over in his hands. “Santa did stockings, at most, back in my day.”

Squinting at a tiny rip in the paper, Peggy didn’t catch the note in his voice. “Perhaps he has better funding these days, dear.” No, not a tear, a cut made by the associate at the store who’d wrapped the thing.

“Hold on, Peggy, is this the big castle she’s been begging us for?”

“That’s what we agreed on for her big gift, yes.”

“But you labelled it from Santa?”

Peggy concluded her inventory, satisfied that either Lily hadn’t sussed out this hiding spot, or that she was, in fact, exceptionally good at six year-old espionage. Either way, she could be proud. “I’m not following the thread, here, Steve. What is the problem?”

Steve’s eyebrows were drawn together on his forehead, his hands on his slim hips. “Peggy, we really shouldn’t be teaching our daughter that the most expensive gifts come from some man she doesn’t know. The big gift should be from us.”

She sat on the bed, suddenly very tired. “Well then you can write a new tag for the present, I don’t care.”

“I just want us to be mindful about the messages we’re sending.”

“Yes, and while you’re being mindful, and harassing the teachers, and raging against the commercialization of the season, I’m just trying to get through a bloody holiday without an international incident sidelining our plans!” Finally, it was Peggy’s turn to let loose. “You do so much for our family, Steve, but there’s even more you don’t know needs to be done! The teachers’ gifts and the scheduling and the gift wrapping that has to happen before the presents even come home, because our daughter is a super spy, plus trying to keep the mood festive even though you’ve been shitting over every aspect of the holiday this year.”

She threw up her hands, too angry to even look at him. “Oh, not to mention the fact that I’m pregnant, Steve. Again. Hal isn’t even a year old, so well done, us. I’m tired all the time and hormonal and weepy and at this point, on Christmas Eve, I don’t even feel like celebrating. I hope you’re happy.” She marched into the ensuite bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She went to run a bath, but remembered she wasn’t supposed to soak in hot water, so she turned on the shower instead and sat down, breathing hard, as steam started to fill the room.

Steve knocked on the door. “Peggy?”

She didn’t respond, only picked up a brush and began running it through her hair.

“Peggy, I deserved that.” No Captain America voice now, just Steve, abashed and remorseful. “I’m sorry. I’m going to give you some time to cool down, but then I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”

Peggy bit her lip, her resolve softening already.

“And Peggy?” She pictured him leaning against the jamb, the way he did many nights while she went through her toilette. “That’s great news about the baby. The best damn present you could have given me.”

Crying now, Peggy opened the door. “You have been an absolute shit, Rogers.”

He took her in his arms. “I have,” he agreed. She twined her arms around his neck. “I’ve been a real Grinch.” He held her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder, tears dripping on his shirt.

“I’m not sentimental over these sorts of things,“ she sniffed. “And I’ve come through hundred of high pressure situations before, I don’t know why this one got to me.”

Steve pulled back to meet her eyes. “Maybe because I’m supposed to be supporting you, not adding to your stress?”

“You usually do support me!” Peggy protested, the tears passing as quickly as they had come on. “And I can see how hard this Christmas has been for you.”

He nodded. “That’s no excuse for my behavior, though. I should have dealt with it better.”

She sniffled again. “Well, do better now.”

Steve squeezed her tight. “You got it. How about you hop in that shower and I’ll deal with the presents, okay?”

Peggy looked up at him from under her lashes. “You can deal with the presents, but I think you need a shower, too.” She plucked at his sweaty tee. “You can scrub my back as your first act of penance.”

Steve laughed and let her lead him into the bathroom.

On Christmas morning, Peggy woke with a start. Steve’s side of the bed was cold, and it was past ten, judging by the stark winter sunlight streaming into the room. The scent of bacon wafted under her nose before she was fully awake. As she lay in bed wondering if she could realistically sneak in a few more minutes of rest, Lily galloped into the room.

“Mummy!” She zoomed around the bed. “Dad wouldn’t let me come in until breakfast was ready but it’s ready now and then we have to open presents and so it’s time to get up, get up, get up!”

Peggy laughed and sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Thank you for letting me sleep in, dearest.”

“Daddy said you two were up late watching for Santa.”

As if on cue, Steve appeared in the doorway, Hal strapped to his chest and a tray in his hands. Peggy raised an eyebrow at him. “Daddy said we were up late, did he?”

Steve blushed. “I was trying to explain why you were so tired.”

“Well, Lily, your Dad and I were just so caught up in the holiday spirit, we didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

Lillian clambered up into bed beside Peggy. “I tried to stay up, too, but I was too knackered.”

“Well, we still weren’t up late enough to help Santa with his packages.” Peggy cuddled her close. “Did he leave you anything?”

“Yes, there are presents under the tree I haven’t seen!”

Steve raised both eyebrows. “I guess I’ll have to give Nat a call later.” Peggy shrugged. “I made you an apology breakfast.” He gestured with the tray.

“I can smell it from here!” Peggy said approvingly. “A lie-in, plus bacon. You are well on your way to being back on my nice list, Steve.” He grinned at that.

“Can we eat it in bed?” Lily asked.

“I suppose it is a special occasion,” Peggy replied. “Come sit with us, darling.” She motioned for Steve to join them. He handed off the tray and unwrapped Hal from his carrier, settling him in his lap.

“Tea, bacon, sausage, eggs, tomatoes and the last of that banana bread Sharon sent over,” Steve said, indicating the plates practically overflowing from the tray. “Merry Christmas, Peggy.”

Peggy looked up into Steve’s clear blue eyes to see the love shining there. “Thank you, Steve. Merry Christmas.”

#steggysecretsanta #lavellenchanted #gift post #steggy #my fic #fic: when the holiday spirit's true #modern steggy

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jojotier · 6 years ago

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asirpa, shiraishi, koito, tsukishima? (I love your writing btw)

aaa thank you for the compliment!! ;; Though unfortunately, I’ve already done one of these for Shiraishi (here), Tsukishima (here) and Koito (here), I’ll still include some random headcanons and unpopular opinions in another post later on for them!

Which leaves us with Asirpa….. The Best Daughter In All Of Anime

Favorite Thing: I love the balance in her character where not only is she super knowledgeable and capable- she’s still a realistically written kid. Like, it would’ve been easy- nay, perhaps Expected- that Asirpa be written as Wise Beyond Her Years and Always Serious Mini Adult, but after her initial introduction, Noda dispels this myth by having her act exactly as a smart, slightly precocious know it all preteen would. Her humor is fun, it’s heartening to see how her optimism sees her as making the most out of a shitty situation, even as the tension slowly mounts, and it makes me smile whenever she interacts with others because Asirpa is just such a genuine and blunt person. It’s so delightful to see someone who’s obviously still a kid not coddled by the narrative, and seen as capable in many ways, as well as being a teacher despite her age.

Least Favorite Thing: Her tendency to take too much burden onto her shoulders alone. As an unfortunate fact of both her age and upbringing by a father trying to make her into a leader, she tries hard to be like the adults around her, feeling as if she should have to take responsibility for the wars and actions of adults. In a lot of ways, she tries to stop herself from being a kid, which is exasperating and heartbreaking to watch as she learns more and more about her father’s calculatingly insidious ways. And the worst part is, despite the friends by her side- she tries to shoulder it all alone. “You can go, Shiraishi- I’ll stay” “Sugimoto, let’s eat persimmons, and then maybe you’ll be okay”. She’s a tragic heroine- and it terrifies me, when she has so much life ahead of her.

Favorite Line: Chapter 100. The persimmon scene. Everything about the scene broke my heart, but Asirpa’s words- "When this is all over… take me with you to your hometown. I want to try dried persimmons too.” cut deep. This line is, in a lot of ways, the apex of Asirpa’s character. She wants to help- truly, she does, and she feels the burden that others have empathetically- but at the end of the day, she’s still a child, and still a little naive.

It struck a personal chord with me, too- being the first kid in a military family, I saw what war did to my father, and when I was little, I thought much the same. I wish I could tell my younger self that thinking that way is futile- that, when they never go back to the way they were before, you shouldn’t blame yourself or feel as if you’ve failed.

brOTP: Her friendship with both Sugimoto and Shiraishi warms my heart, but it’s her nearly sibling bond with Sugimoto that takes the cake. I adore how much they compliment each other- Asirpa’s willingness to teach meshing well with Sugimoto’s willingness to learn, both of their teasing each other over poop, her gentle empathy for his plight and his protective care for her wellbeing and right to be a kid- God, it’s all so sweet!!! They’re a lovely little family.

OTP: Asirpa x personal happiness. Asirpa x getting to be a kid. Asirpa x mental wellbeing. Asirpa x hunting to her heart’s content

nOTP: Every Asirpa ship like seriously she’s an entire child and almost everyone on the main cast are adults.

Random headcanon: When Asirpa was little, she used to believe in magic! After her mother died, Inkarmat actually stuck around the village for the first few years of Asirpa’s life, and occasionally popped in to spend time with Huci. Although Inkarmat was initially reluctant to spend time with Asirpa, she soon warmed up to the rambunctious toddler and told her all sorts of stories of magic, and even taught her some of the craft. When Wilk started coming back to take Asirpa on hunts with him, Inkarmat left, and Wilk flatly taught Asirpa that magic wasn’t real and that those saying so had to have something suspicious up their sleeve. Because of that, little Asirpa looked back on her interactions with Inkarmat with some suspicion, which Wilk encouraged, telling her to forget the young fortuneteller. By the time Asirpa was 7, she completely forgot about her previous belief in real life fortunetelling and had forgotten Inkarmat too.

Unpopular Opinion: Or I mean, I guess it’s somewhat popular? Idk what’s going on with it, but basically, the gist is this: I believe that Noda is going to use Asirpa to deconstruct the child savior narrative trope a la Mob Psycho 100. After all, to deconstruct a trope, one must first pretend to build it up. Much like the show in question, Asirpa is built up as being very knowledgeable, powerful in some way, and desirable to antagonistic forces. A lot of the instances of Asirpa “saving” Sugimoto and Shiraishi in canon where she provides food and shelter (while they shouldn’t be discounted as incredibly skilled and make things much more convenient) shouldn’t be counted as her “saving” them, as the group would still be able to find some food source or shelter even without Asirpa’s knowledge. Less food, certainly, and maybe not the best shelter, but they could survive nonetheless.

Likewise, the instances where she saves Sugimoto in the heat of battle and just so happens to lead to the death/maiming of the villain shouldn’t count as her having “blood on her hands” because not only is she a child, but she has no control over how other characters take the opportunities for survival presented to them. As for the actual deconstruction, I feel that as the pressure on Asirpa mounts, things will shift so that she finds that she can rely more and more on Sugimoto, the “responsible” adult in the scenario who wants her to just be a goddamn kid and that, in the climax, she’ll relent and let Sugimoto handle things

Song I Associate with her: Everything Stays, by Olivia Olson for Adventure Time.

Favorite Picture:

Behold…. the first of many faces we all know and love

#asirpa #ashirpa #golden kamuy #i just... love her gvjhkvbhgj #and god im worried :c

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betsynagler · 6 years ago

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Critical Thinking is Hard

I’m lucky: I grew up in a family where thinking was encouraged. My parents treated me and my brother like we were brilliant, which makes you want to be brilliant, and come up with your own ideas. They liked to talk about stuff, and, while they definitely treated us like kids, they also didn’t really shelter us too much. My mother was always ruining TV shows for me by pointing out the sexist moments in television, from reruns of The Brady Bunch and Star Trek, to Charlie’s Angels, Three’s Company and, well, it was the 70s and 80s, so pretty much all TV shows. But they still let us watch them, as well as R-rated movies which may not have been age-appropriate, and while they told us not to smoke pot, when we found out that they smoked pot, they gave us reasons for why it was okay for them and not us (since they “weren’t going to have any more children,” which seemed to make sense at the time). Another thing they did was encourage us to take responsibility for our own decisions from a fairly young age, which meant that you could stay up until 10 or 11 pm on a school night if you really wanted to, but it’d be your fault when you felt like shit all the next day. One can debate the pros and cons of this method of child-rearing (pro: de-mystifying drug use and other taboo behaviors to the degree that they actually start to seem uncool; encouraging kids to develop strong ethical compass and think through their actions; con: kids are even more weird compared to their peers, and precociously develop anxiety and guilt about their own actions). Nevertheless, it did start me on the road to learning the value of thinking for myself.

I didn’t really come into my own as a critical thinker until junior high, however, when I spent two years in a program for gifted students. First, isolation from my peers at a time when I was supposed to be learning the social skills of adulthood and the bullying that naturally flowed from that taught me to look for other people’s faults as a means of self-defense. That made me critical, if not necessarily thoughtful. But then I also had two years of Mr. Snyder teaching me social studies. Many of us in the gifted program had all of the same teachers for all of our academic subjects two years running. This meant that we got to know those teachers really well, and, in the case of Mr. Snyder, came to greatly admire and be shaped by his worldview. Mr. Snyder wasn’t an obvious candidate for intellectual guru to early adolescents. He wasn’t particularly handsome, and he’d had polio as a child and walked with a prominent limp. But he was funny and charismatic, gave terrific lectures that were like brilliant comedy monologues or TED talks, and knew how to make his students feel smart and special — in part because we had made it into his class, but still. We liked him so much that several of us would get to class early every day so that we could draw cartoons of him on the blackboard with clever word bubble-jokes, and he loved that. Too see him come into the room and look at our clever depictions of him and smile and make jokes right back at us, to feel appreciated for our intelligence and creativity, a sensation could be hard to come by as a suburban New Jersey youngster, was wonderful. The class was a mutual admiration society and a bit of a cult of personality that I think hugely affected all of us who took it.

I learned a lot there, as we studied political systems, geography and the history of the ancient world, among other things. We were assigned projects that were unlike anything you’d typically get in junior high or even high school, a combination of fun, self-driven exploration, and out-of-control amounts of work. We had to make a map of the world that included every single country, city, major mountain range and body of water, using color-coded overlays — something that I would have enjoyed, and sort of did, except that, since I was in 7th grade, I was terrible at judging how long it would take and left it until the last minute, and had to repeatedly re-letter the smudged plastic to make it readable in my 12-year-old handwriting. The following year, when we did separate units on Greece and Rome, we had to either fill in an entire outline that he provided with a paragraph or more on every subject, or do a handful of more creative projects designed to help us probe the topics in more interesting detail. After choosing to do the outline for Greece, thinking it would be easier, and ending up with several pounds of handwritten paper (I could not type) on everything from Sparta to Socrates to Doric columns that was probably 75+ pages long, Mr. Snyder had stared at the pile and admitted to me that he hadn’t really expected anyone to choose that option, that he’d made the outline so absurdly long to encourage people to do the creative projects. I probably got an A more because he didn’t want to read the whole damn thing than anything else, and on Rome, I did the projects, like going to a Roman-Catholic service and writing about it — which I did by interviewing my Catholic friend, Tara, instead of actually going to the service myself — or going to the Met to observe and then expound upon the differences one observed between the Greek and Roman statues — which I did after 15 minutes of taking furious notes on a Sunday when we arrived just as they were getting ready to close. Just because I loved Mr. Snyder didn’t mean that I, like any other kid, wasn’t always trying to get out of doing homework in any way I could.

The thing I learned and remember best, however, was not the facts, but the method. We had a class about political and economic systems — communism, socialism, capitalism, authoritarianism — and the first thing Mr. Snyder did was define these terms for us, explaining that they weren’t what we’d been told they were. Specifically, “communism,” the way it was looked at in the budding Reagan Era of the early 1980s, wasn’t actually communism at all. Real communism was an economic system that someone named Karl Marx had come up with, in which everyone owned everything, nobody was rich or poor or more powerful than anyone else, and that was, in fact, kind of the opposite of what the Soviet Union had become. This somewhat blew my mind. Here was the boogeyman that everyone talked about as the great evil threatening us with destruction — and remember, in the world of an American kid who had trouble sleeping at night because she obsessed with how we were one button push away from nuclear war, that meant genuine annihilation — and it wasn’t even what it really was. How was this possible? How was everything that we saw on TV and in the newspapers and at the movies just plain wrong? It turned out that, once you delved into it, the evolution of the term “communism” in the popular vernacular was an education in how concepts entered the public consciousness and then were propagated endlessly in the echo chamber of the media and society until they became something else entirely, usually in the service of some political or social end. Sound familiar? It wasn’t the same then as it is now that we have the Wild West known as the Internet, in some ways it was easier to get an entire culture to basically think one incorrect thing rather than many insane things, but the ability to miseducate a huge swath a people without their questioning it? Yes, that existed, and understanding that was a very big deal to me. It meant that you always had to look deeper than the surface of things to be sure you understood the reality, even when it came to what those things were called.

Why doesn’t everyone get taught to think this way? Well, like most things in life, it gets increasingly harder to learn as you get older. The more set in our ways we get, the tougher it becomes to look at ourselves critically (which is essential to critical thinking, because to truly get that you must dissect and assess the viability of ideas, you have to start with your own assumptions), much less change the way our brains function in terms of adopting new ways of doing anything that’s really embedded in there, much less ways of doing everything, which is kind what it means to change the way you think. Plus, it’s in the best interest of those in power to keep the bulk of the human race from doing it. It’s tough to build an army of people who don’t automatically follow orders, or have a religion made up of people who are always questioning the word of God, or build a movement if the followers are continually asking the leaders, “Is that really true?” And so we’ve arrived at this situation where we have so much information out there now to make sense out of, and the bulk of us without the tools to figure out how to do that — and many who reject those tools because they’re told education is just liberal elite brainwashing. Instead, you see a lot of people turn to a kind of twisted, easy version of “critical” “thinking” espoused on the fringes of the left and right, which disposes with the thinking part and instead just espouses wholesale rejection of anything dubbed “establishment” or “mainstream,” no matter how awful the alternative may be (and at this point we know: it’s pretty awful). Add to that the folks who skillfully exploit the overwhelm of information and lack of analytical skills to support their own greed, lust for power and desire to win at all cost, and you end up with an awesome new and different kind of embedded orthodoxy, that encourages us to silo ourselves within “our” (really their) belief systems, walled in with “alternative facts” and media that support them, and defending it all tooth and nail with false equivalencies that encourage us not to critique thoughtfully based on evidence, but to to pick apart every idea that doesn’t fit or even makes us uncomfortable (“Well, every politician lies” was one of the most egregious ones I heard used recently to defend the president).

And, when it comes right down to it, can you blame people? Thinking is exhausting, especially in this environment, and even human beings with the best intentions manage to ruin everything good anyway. Like, even though my parents didn’t make us believe their ideas, of course they still managed to inculcate in us their most mundane opinions. My father was particularly good at doing this, particularly when it came to eating (yup, Jews), like how fast food and chain restaurants should be avoided not based on nutrition but on lack of flavor (which I guess is why we still ate at White Castle), or how chocolate was really the only kind of acceptable dessert. It’s amazing that, no matter how far I’ve come as an adult, I still find it really hard to shake these ideas — like I saw a conversation on Facebook about how pie was superior to cake, and I just thought, Huh? But there aren’t any good chocolate pies. Another case in point: by the time I was a senior, Mr. Snyder had moved up to the high school, and was teaching an AP history class that I had the option to take. I decided to take economics instead, because I had never studied it, because one of my best friends was taking it, and, on some level I’m sure, to show that I didn’t need the wisdom of this idol of my 7th and 8th grade self, now that I was all of 16. I heard from people who took Snyder’s class that in his first opening monologue of the year he mocked those of his former students who had decided not to take his class — which I think might have just been me. That wasn’t really an appropriate thing for a teacher to do, especially since I was kind of doing what he’d taught us: to move on, do my own thinking and evaluate him critically. But as a human being, it’s hard to be a charismatic leader and just let that go — which is why the world has so many despots, and celebrities, and despotic celebrities. On other hand, my economics class was a terrible waste of time because it turned out that I didn’t like economics and the teacher was boring, so perhaps my premature rejection of Mr. Snyder and my 8th grade way of thinking, just to prove that I could do it, hadn’t been the best decision either. It’s hard not to wonder if I’d be just a slightly better, smarter person today if I’d accepted one more opportunity to take his class.

I’ll never know, but I guess the fact that I’m telling you this story means I haven’t given up on critical thinking. Maybe it’s because self-flagellating comes naturally to me, but these days, more than ever, I try to employ those skills as much as I can, even as it grows increasingly fucking hard. On top of all that media landscape stuff I mentioned a few paragraphs back, I also have this stupid menopause business I mentioned in my last blog post, which just amplifies all of the emotion that drives me as a human to err on the side of insanity, as if there weren’t already enough bad news, and bad “news,” out there driving a person in that direction. There are so many bad actors with so many tools that can be used to manipulate our fear and greed and lust into steamrolling our thinking these days, and all we have to fight back are these little broken piles of poop in our heads. And yet, we all do have them, aka brains, and so we have the ability to use them. And as one of those cynical-on-top-but-at-bottom-idealistic folks who believes we all also have the capacity to change, no matter how hard it might seem, until the day we die, I think we all have the ability to learn how to use them better. And yes, that means you, and your friends, and your kids, and even your cousins in Florida maybe, if we all just try a little harder.

I’m not sure what Mr. Snyder would say about me now, as I try to get people to think about stuff with this blog that almost nobody reads, but considering how many years he spent trying to teach adolescents about Platonic ideals, I’d imagine he’d approve. So in honor of him, and any teacher you’ve had who inspired you to think more, and more better, let’s advocate in 2019 not just for “our values,” but for the value of intelligent thought, even if we have to do it one mind at a time.

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adelmortescryche · 7 years ago

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R u ready cuz i got me a LIST. I'll send prompts in separate asks and if u don't like any feel free to disregard! First off is Victuuri, with "I'm not very good with commitment, or soulmates, or love." Preferably said by Yuuri bc i l o v e angst. A lot.

hah, can i just say that i was fcking delighted to get this one with Yuuri being the one to say the line. i mean, as i mentioned before, i’d have had yuuri say it either way, but then i registered that that was exactly what you wanted anyway. such a lovely coincidence. this turned out fluffier than expected, but hey, it’s still mildly angsty.

an explanation in advance, if it isn’t obvious: soulmates live their lives in this ‘verse with sensory deprivation of some sort. so they’re all actually impaired to a certain extent until they meet their soulmates. soulmates don’t necessarily have to be romantic or stay together. guess what side of the argument these two dorks are on.

In response to this post. salty soulmate prompts ftw.

Victor supposed that he should have seen this coming. He’d spent his entire adult life wondering what taste was, read books about flavor and food, and stared at cooking shows, wondering if food was really more than just aesthetic appreciation and matter being shoveled in for energy and nutrition. Whether there was actually someone out there, a destined someone who would who would bring flavor and taste into his life like a tidal wave. He’d heard Chris think about smell in the same way until he’d met his dashing mystery man, too - if it was real, if something as mundane as the way things smelt was worth the hype.

The first thing he’d done in the aftermath was drag Chris into a flower shop. And had weathered the teasing about being a pathetic romantic while Chris all but buried his face in a vase full of lilies.

So, yes. He should have seen this coming. He’d spent enough years as a precocious teen scoffing at the thought of something as ridiculous as fate and a soulmate deciding anything about his life. He’d spent many more as a lonely adult thinking that it might not be that bad, having someone promised to you so soundly. He should have seen this coming.

Yuuri, for his part, just looked uncomfortable. And maybe a little tired, eyes just a bit puffy and red. His fingers were tight around the edge of his door, holding it in place like a shield to hold Victor at bay. Ridiculous. As if Victor needed anything of the sort to keep him back when Yuuri-

“Sorry. I’m just… not very good with commitment. Or soulmates. Or love. We had this discussion already, Victor, I’m-”

Not good with people, Yuuri had said. Not good with relationships, casual or otherwise. Just not comfortable with social interaction outside the bare minimum at all. Funny how Victor had assumed that meant people who weren’t soulmates. Relationships that didn’t involve him. Because he was- because Yuuri was-

“Sorry.” Yuuri repeated, and slammed the door shut in his face.

“You look like you need a drink.”

He blinked muzzily down at the table, then forced himself to lift his head enough to peer up at the red clad form kneeling on the other side of the table from him.

Ah. It had gotten rather quiet, hadn’t it.

“Sorry, I’ll go back up,” he mumbled, a few more blinks making it easier to recognize the form as Mari. Yuuri’s older sister.

She just shook her head, though, gesturing for Victor to stay where he was, then proceeded to settle into a more loose-limbed crosslegged posture. It took a little longer for the situation to compute, but when it did, Victor’s head drooped a little lower.

“You heard us.” It wasn’t a question.

“Aa. You were very quiet, but…” she shrugged, unapologetic, and Victor had to give a tired laugh. Fantastic. Obviously he shouldn’t have brought the topic up at the inn. But it was either the inn or the rink, or the walk between the two. Or assorted restaurants that Yuuri had been willing to introduce him to. If nothing else, the inn had been more private than the other options.

They were silent for a moment of companionable silence, long enough that Victor suddenly found himself wondering if Mari had met her soulmate yet. What her take on the topic was. Yuuri had made his stance very clear, but that didn’t mean all the Katsukis felt the same way.

“My brother… he isn’t shy.”

Mari’s words were blunt. Abruptly so. They made Victor blink again, confused, but she barged on before he could actually understand what she meant.

“He isn’t shy, but people make him uneasy. People who want his time make him break. Ah, I mean-” she paused, looking irritable, but Victor nodded slowly in response, willing to take her at face value. Even if the thought of Yuuri breaking made something sick settle at the bottom of his gut.

“He gets very uneasy, when he does not know what someone wants. It is always better to tell him what you want.”

Victor frowns at that, and wants to argue that that was exactly what he’d done. He’d come clean. He’d said that flavors had bloomed in his mouth only after he’d met Yuuri. He’d even left himself open to hurt, and said that he was happy that Yuuri was the one to return his missing sense to him. How much clearer could a man get?

Mari just looked vaguely exasperated, though. Maybe a little long-suffering. She was older than him, Victor remembered distantly. It had been so long since he’d had peers who were older than him that actually mattered.

“You want that drink?” she asked.

Victor shook his head.

“Then you sleep. Go. And talk to my idiot brother in the morning. Oyasumi.”

“Oyasumi,” Victor parroted dumbly, watching as she pushed herself to her feet and walked away. Not sure if he should take issue with the appellation, then deciding that if anyone had the right to call Yuuri an idiot, it was his older sister.

By the time he got himself to his room, Makka was already curled up and half asleep on top of the covers. The sight makes him pause by the door, an odd smile pulling taut across his face. Even when Makka lifting her head to stare at him questioningly, wondering why he hadn’t already gotten into bed already, didn’t erase the smile from his lips.

Well. He still had Makka, didn’t he. This didn’t change anything. Yuuri didn’t change anything. Soulmates didn’t change anything. He could still try coaching for an year, be thankful for the break and actually enjoy eating food.

So what if he’d been right all along, as a teen. His seventeen year old self would probably laugh to see how far he’d fallen.

Makka whined, and Victor stepped into the room, the action a reflex more than anything else. Her stare was enough to get him switch off the one lamp that was still lit, and get under the covers without much more thought.

“You’re more disapproving than a mother with a teenager under her roof,” Victor muttered into the curls topping her head, once she’d flopped down on top of him, all but burying him beneath herself.

No response, but then, he’d never needed one, from Makkachin. He could always tell when she wanted him around. Now if only Yuuri were that easy to re-

A cool, dry nose nudged at the hollow of his throat, sudden enough that he almost yelped in surprise. When he pulled back, he found Makka staring up at him accusingly. It had him bursting into snickers that he promptly buried into her fur, much to her sleepy irritation. Not that she protested. She never did.

Okay, then. Sleep. Actual sleep, without working himself into the ground thinking about Yuuri, or fate or anything else that was liable to leave him awake through the night. He was a coach now, after all. And if his student was avoiding him… Well, then he’d just meet his student halfway. Soulmate or not.

A few days down the line proved early on that Yuuri was not an easy man to meet halfway. Not when he seemed stubborn and embarrassed enough that he was doing his literal best to skedaddle whenever Victor got anywhere near close enough to ask to talk.

It was enough to drive a man crazy. Especially when Mari slowly went from looking exasperating to commiserating to amused. Hiroko and Toshiya weren’t of any help either, clearly just as amused as their daughter, and while Minako was kind enough to split bottles of sake and plum wine with him, but she wasn’t kind enough to not laugh at his plight.

“You seem to be doing something right, at least. Yuuri sure as hell wouldn’t act like this with a coach.” Minako crowed, while Victor knocked back the last dregs of whatever had been left in the flask before them.

“It’s not like it helps. He won’t even talk to me!” he snapped back, and immediately regretted it. A friendly listening ear aside, Minako was still Yuuri’s old ballet teacher. Lilia would probably smile with perfect poise in a similar situation, all the while plotting to murder anyone badmouthing her students.

Minako, thankfully, just laughed some more, and patted him roughly on the back. Hiroko, in the process of bringing out yet another bottle of wine, most likely for Minako because Victor was stopping while he was ahead, reached out to pat him on the shoulder, murmuring something in Japanese that just made Minako laugh even harder. Victor wasn’t sure if he wanted to know or not.

The mean glint in Minako’s eyes told him that he was really better off not knowing.

A clatter near the entryway had Victor glancing that way reflexively, only to find Yuuri in the process of leaving, most likely for an evening run. Yuuri barely met his eyes for a split second before he dashed away, though. It was barely a surprise at this point.

“See? That’s not how he’d treat a coach. I should know, I’ve been his teacher since he was a tiny kid. Hell, I stood in for a coach a whole lot when he’d been a kid, too.”

Victor’s not sure how it matters, when the equation there was so different from whatever was getting built between him and Yuuri. Maybe that was where he was supposed to start in that talk. Mari though he should tell Yuuri what he wanted, but… that didn’t seem to be helping at all. Maybe he should just ask what Yuuri wanted instead.

Something of the frustration brewing in his head must have shown on his face, because Minako nearly cackled. And proceeded to fill his ochoko with another shot of sake.

“Drink up, boy, clearly you’re going to need it. And then maybe you can consider going on a run to catch up with Yuuri-kun.”

“Maybe,” Victor agreed, the smile on his face a lot more plastic than it had been in a while. No way in hell was he going to go chasing after Yuuri. Not only could he set a terrifying pace when he was focused, Victor suspected that trying to catch up with him after that momentary traded glance earlier would backfire a lot more than any other attempts he’d made so far.

So no. Maybe he could try to catch him at the rink in the morning. He felt safer near the ice, right. That’s what Nishigori and Yuuko had implied, at any rate.

Well, Victor could say the same. Neutral ground! Maybe that would help, if nothing else did. Honestly, he didn’t even care as much about soulmates any longer, not after the last few days he’d been through. No, fate and destiny could go fuck themselves, all he wanted was Yuuri, acting normal again. His fledgling student, the fellow competitor who’d managed to sweep his heart away well before Victor even registered that he’d returned his missing sense as well, the man whom Victor had slowly begun to realize would be a worthy friend to have, too, aside from everything else.

Morning. The ice rink. It was on.

“…Victor, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Victor, in the process of getting his skates off, eyes hard in his head, started in surprise. When he regained enough control to look back at Yuuko, who’d managed to sneak up on him when he’d been busy knocking the ice off of his blades, she just looked more alarmed than her voice had suggested.

The expression did little to soothe his ire, but he did take the time to offer her a smile. It’s not her fault that her friend is starting to feel roughly as stubborn and bratty as Yura. Victor was tempted to shove that in Yuuri’s face, just to see how he’d react to it.

“It’s nothing, we’ll be taking a break today, i think.” he replied, smile firmly pasted in place, and Yuuko stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment before finally coughing out a laugh.

“Don’t be too hard on him. Yuuri isn’t shy, he’s just-”

“Really not good with people. Yes, thank you, I’ve figured that out now.” Victor completed cheerfully, something in him very tempted to drop the smiles to the wayside just this once, because he was tired, damnit, but Yuuko didn’t deserve the vitriol buried beneath them, just waiting to be unleashed.

She looked uncomfortably knowing when she waved him out of the rink, all the same.

Cycling back to the inn in the cold air managed to cool him down somewhat, enough so that he’s relatively calm by the time he’s kicking his shoes off in the genkan and trading them in for his own pair of indoor slippers.

He runs into Mari when he’s heading up the stair, and she only needs a single glance at his face before she lips tugged apart in a delighted smirk.

“Finally,” she declared, sounding aggrieved. “Do you have any idea how irritating the two of you have been these past few days. Please go tell him what you want from him so he can stop hiding in his covers.”

“Thanks, Mari,” Victor replied pleasantly, not bothering to correct her, and somehow that just made her smirk broaden. She didn’t say any more, though, instead continuing down the stairs without giving him any grief.

By the time he gets Yuuri’s door open to drag him out to the beach, he’d almost completely managed to convince himself that he’ll be okay with however this is going to end. Even if everyone else seemed to have their own opinions about what’s going to happen.

“-and even if I couldn’t actually feel her arms around me back then, something about that situation left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I just- shoved her away. Because she was making assumptions about what I was feeling, and was forcing her emotions on me… It’s never been something I’ve been comfortable with. I need space, Victor. To just exist, maybe to figure out what I want. And no one I’ve been with in even the flimsiest of a relationship till now seems to understand that, outside of my family and friends, here. I’m not weak.”

And so the unease about commitment. And love. And soulmates. Victor tightened his grip around Makkachin involuntarily, only relaxing it when she whined, confused.

Yuuri sounded exhausted, and vehement, almost like the words he’s said had been clawing at his throat ever since they’d stopped talking to each other.

“No one thinks you’re weak, Yuuri. I certainly don’t. This entire time, all I’ve wanted was to ask you what you wanted out of this. I said that I’m certain we’re soulmates, but that doesn’t have to mean anything more that you want it to. Did you want me to be a father figure to you? A sibling, a friend, a lover-” Victor paused when Yuuri’s hand abruptly reached out to cover his mouth.

When he looked over to the side, Yuuri’s face was flushed enough that it bordered on unhealthy. He seemed determined, though. So Victor waited, curious.

The next thing he knew, Yuuri was standing up and bowing, at a perfectly formal 90 degrees, arms steady at his sides. It’s enough to make Victor fumble in place, eyes going wide, but before he could say anything, Yuuri was speaking, Japanese spilling smoothly past his lips, in a stream fast enough that Victor had no chance of understanding any of it. It wasn’t much, only a sentence, but at the end of it, Yuuri eased off on the bow enough that Victor could see his face again. And the small, impish smile playing on his lips, too.

“Pleased to meet you, thank you for returning my tactile sense.” He said, this time around in English, and Victor choked on a surprised laugh, delight budding bright in his chest.

“Yuuri-”

Yuuri just cleared his throat rather pointedly, though, and Victor sighed, smiling a little helplessly as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Pleased to meet you, thank you for returning my sense of taste.”

“There. That was better.” Yuuri said, actually laughing out loud when Victor rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

They stayed on the beach for longer, simply walking by the water, throwing a ball for Makka whenever she got bored, segueing into more casual topics of conversation, even discussing what it felt like to have a sense returned to them. Apparently Yuuri had been stuck in bed for weeks because of how bad the pain had been for him, years of ballet and figure skating without any tactile sensation finally catching up with him. Victor had cringed at the thought, in turn offering up photos of all the different food combinations and cuisines he’d taken to trying out once he had a fully functioning sense of taste.

It wasn’t until they were ready to leave that Yuuri slowed down to say that he didn’t want Victor to be anything but himself. Because Victor the Person, his coach and possibly his friend, was at least a little more important than whatever had destined for them to be soulmates.

It’s enough to make Victor think, if only for a split second, that he’s very relieved that Yuuri was the person that had been destined for him after all.

A few months down the line and Victor’s tackling Yuuri to the ice, heedless of the screams and the lights and sound of thousands of camera shutters flashing, hellbent on smothering him in kisses. He’s still not sure if that’s more because Yuuri was his soulmate or because Yuuri was Yuuri, and Yuuri was never going to stop surprising him, but by that point, Victor really couldn’t care less.

#boycottromance #fanfiction #yoi #soulmate au #katsuki yuuri #victor nikiforov #mild angst #fluff #relationship negotiation #prompt fill #thank you for the ask!#my writing #gah it's been a while since i've posted anything hasn't it #i hope this is a fun read #sensory deprivation soulmate au 'verse #katsuki mari #okukawa minako #nishigori yuuko #adel writes

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shortskirtsandsarcasm · 4 years ago

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Gilmore Girls: Rory is Giving Us All a Bad Name

My childhood TV consumption came entirely from the channel TV Land, which almost exclusively broadcast reruns of American sitcoms from the 1950s-70s (think I Love Lucy, I Dream of Jeannie, Leave it to Beaver, The Andy Griffith Show, Three’s Company, and Happy Days), so Gilmore Girls was not on my radar; in fact, I was barely aware of it. I am sure that if I made any effort to watch it in real-time, my mother would have told me to “turn off that trash,” as she had when I wanted to watch anything on the Disney Channel or Downton Abbey. GG has been revisited in the past years as more people have become aware of all of its problems, and as the Year in the Life reboot has come out recently. Even though many of the re-visitations of GG have been to criticize it, it’s clear that this was an important and beloved show that people see as a seminal aspect of their childhood and adolescence. Reading around GG made me feel like I’d missed a defining experience, so I decided to watch all seven seasons and the reboot, even though I knew that I would hate it. And I really did. I started watching season 1 on Thanksgiving in 2016 and I finally finished the original series and the reboot not long ago, in June 2020. I had to take breaks from Rory and all her bullshit.

Superficially, I share so much with Rory: I am an only child; I love to read; I take books with me everywhere; and I have brown “straight, shiny Harvard hair,” as Carol from season 3, episode 3, “Application Anxiety,” describes it. Adults told me I was “mature” and “precocious” and would “go on to do great things,” without much more evidence than that I was a smart kid. I would like to think that I did not become an insufferable young adult as Rory did, but I write judgmental nonsense on the internet, so maybe I did.

I remember my mom making me read the article “The ‘Trophy Kids’ Go To Work” when I was in junior high that clearly framed millennials wanting financial security and job stability as a bad thing and invoked a moral panic about participation certificates and teachers not using red pens anymore. I thought the article was unfair to young people trying to find financial stability directly after the 2008 financial crisis then and I still do, but Rory is giving us all a bad name. She acts entitled to absolutely everything: Ivy League education, high-profile jobs, men, etc. She assumes that going to private school and getting good grades will be all that is required of her to get into Harvard, and she has no backup plan if Harvard rejects her. She just assumes Harvard can’t reject her. The only reason she even applies to Yale is to make her Yale alumni grandparents happy. But first, she has a meltdown because her grandfather was kind enough to organize an interview at Yale for her. The bastard.

As she enters her final semester of university, she seemingly only applies for three jobs. The one she really wants is a six-week New York Times unpaid internship that is in incredibly high demand. Again, Rory just assumes she will get the internship because she’s special and turns down a real job with a salary in Providence. After she finds she has been rejected by the NYT, she calls back about the Providence job, only to find the position has gone to someone else. She does not learn from this and continues to feel entitled to jobs just because in the revival. Rory has a few job possibilities in the revival, but one by one they fall apart, so she decides to go in for an interview with the website SandeeSays for a job she considers beneath her (but why? Because it’s online?). She is absolutely unprepared for an actual interview because she assumes Sandee will automatically hire her. When Sandee is disappointed that she is unprepared and does not hire her, Rory yells and insults her and her publication.

Whenever her narrow trajectory directly to success is challenged, she goes into a complete meltdown. When Paris says she has been doing community service since fourth grade to look good on college applications, Rory has a meltdown. When Mitchum Huntzberger, who everyone agrees is a giant asshole, tells her she’ll never become a real journalist, Rory has a meltdown. When she doesn’t get the job with SandeeSays because she is unprepared and unprofessional, Rory has a meltdown. When she finds out Logan slept with other women while they were separated but not broken up, Rory has a meltdown. I’m not defending Logan here — it was definitely a shady thing to do — but Rory is upset about her access to Logan being infringed upon and her solution is to bang Jess, to whom she is also entitled.

If you date Rory Gilmore, you belong to her forever.

It’s easy to see how Rory became so entitled in the first place. Stars Hollow is a quaint but bustling town, home to what might be described as a “colorful cast of characters,” who literally all dote on Rory and constantly tell her she is special. Stars Hollow is also home to its very own high school, but clearly none of them are special. Rory’s entire community bolsters this idea in her that she’s struggled against some sort of monumental obstacles, which is just not true. Lorelai is the only one in this family who has achieved anything through hard work alone, and that is because she absconded from the family home as a teenager with a baby Rory.

Rory’s “specialness” is something we are often told but seldom shown. For example, when Rory’s first boyfriend, working-class Dean, comes to dinner at Rory’s affluent grandparents’ house (s2e1), Richard and Emily grill him on why he thinks he’s good enough for their special granddaughter. Richard points out that Rory will be going to an Ivy League university, and that Dean has dimmer prospects, and will, therefore, hold her back. Richard implies that Rory will “go on to do great things,” simply because she is smart and not because she is incredibly privileged. It is obvious that Dean has “dimmer” prospects because he has to work alongside going to high school and has other responsibilities in Stars Hollow which preclude him from spending $$$ on an Ivy education and extensive travel. Rory does stand up for him and point out that being working-class does not make Dean less than, but she hangs on to the idea that she is more than because she is smart and does not acknowledge that her private school tuition, Ivy tuition, and travel is only within her reach because of her family’s money and connections. In her mind, she maintains that she is a lower-middle-class or working-class person who has achieved her “special” status through hard work, but she has never been the one to undertake this hard work. Through the entire rest of the series, she will never come around to seeing this, and interestingly the only time she gets close is when Logan calls her out on her snobbery. Logan, of all people.

This brings me to my hottest hot take on Gilmore Girls: Logan is Rory’s best boyfriend. Both Dean and Jess were possessive and emotionally abusive, so the bar is very low. Rory clearly has terrible taste in men, but of the three dickwads in Rory’s life, he is somehow the best. Logan is not possessive like the other two and seems to be the only man in the entire series that’s not unreasonably jealous. For example, when Rory develops that crush on the TA (even though he’s ugly let’s be real) he recognizes it for the silly passing crush that it is. Dean and Jess would have both lost their minds.

The possessive and jealous descriptors can also be attributed to Lorelai’s boyfriends, specifically Luke. Luke is so sensitive over Lorelai’s friendship with Christopher (pre the whole impulsive decision to get back together and get married in Paris mess), even though Christopher will always be a part of Lorelai’s life because he is Rory’s dad. At this point, Luke has found out about his secret daughter, April, and is fighting so hard to be a permanent part of her life and does not seem to appreciate the parallel. April and Rory are the subjects of Luke’s possessiveness. He feels entitled to be a parent to Rory, even before his relationship with Lorelai, but then refuses to let Lorelai get to know April even though they are engaged and kept her existence a secret for months. Again, he cannot see the double standard there. After they break up and Lorelai gets back with Christopher, Luke then has the audacity to ask Lorelai to write him a character reference so he can win custody of April. Luke also asks for parenting advice from Lorelai on how to deal with both Jess and April, but when he doesn’t like her response, he either says outright or insinuates that Lorelai is not qualified to weigh in, even though Lorelai is a parent Luke clearly loves and admires Rory, the product of her parenting.

On the subject of Lorelai’s parenting, I have some questions. When she ran away from home at seventeen, was she legally emancipated? I don’t think any court would rule in her favor if she had complained that her parents were rich east coast snobs. Richard and Emily are certainly overbearing and snobby, but is that enough reason to literally run away? As a result, Lorelai has become stuck in the mentality of her 17-year-old self and believes people are “against” her personally when they just have different opinions on mundane things. In season seven when her parents want to throw a party celebrating her marriage to Christopher, shoots down literally all of the party planner’s ideas because she feels threatened that her parents want to celebrate her marriage. She’s really out here at thirty-eight being moody and rude to the party planner like she’s a PMS-ing teenager. Richard and Emily did not get to see their only child actually get married — is it so much to ask that Lorelei goes along with their party plan?

This kind of thinking cultivates an “us against the world” feeling between her and Rory which also contributes to Rory’s feelings of entitlement — Rory’s high school valedictorian speech at her graduation was almost entirely about her relationship with her mom. It is absolutely no surprise that Rory has no empathy for anyone else and only thinks of herself and what she wants in the moment. This sometimes even backfires on Lorelai, such as when she graduated from her business degree. Rory chose that exact day to skip school to visit Jess in New York, miss her graduation ceremony, and leave her graduation present on the bus. Lorelai never got her Belinda Carlisle record, and I’m still mad about it.

I have many more thoughts about Gilmore Girls, like how they did Lane so dirty, and how unnecessarily rude Rory was to the Thirty-something Gang, but that would turn into a body of work rivaling my actual PhD thesis I am procrastinating on, so I will stop for now. Now that I can put GG behind me for good, I can finally “go on to do great things,” whatever that means.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls revival #tv #essay #millennials #long read

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richonnejustdesserts · 7 years ago

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Teacher’s Pet : A Richonne Round Robin Fanfic

A small town sheriff and preschool teacher find love thanks to the cutest little matchmaker around. [RATED: T]

Chapter 4 (written by @dirtiebirdie17)

Glenn scanned the crowded dining area from behind the service counter of his pizzeria and caught sight of Rick, who motioned for him to come over. When he noticed that Judith had fallen asleep on the bench next to her father, he grabbed a tablecloth from the shelf and brought it over.

Rick got up and took it, placing the folded fabric gently under his daughter’s head.

“Someone’s pooped,” Glenn commented, his head tilted sideways as he grinned at the typically precocious preschooler.

“She’s usually wiped by Friday, so no surprise there,” Rick grufffed, his voice slow and raspy.

“I was talking about you,” Glenn tossed back half-jokingly, making his way to the front alongside Rick, who brushed off the dig completely. After a few moments of silence, he asked “Are you still mulling over that dilemma of yours?”

Rick grimaced, silently cursing himself yet again for having broached the subject of dating with his best friends on Monday. Shane had been incessantly hounding him for more details all week, trying to break him until he caved, and although it had almost worked, Rick had stood his ground so he wasn’t about to yield to Glenn now. Ignoring the question, he just glared at him instead, mentally implicating his two buddies as the probable reason why he was so goddamn tired today.

Glenn noticed. “So a single and an RBI triple, huh?” he inquired in an effort to change the subject, being as enthusiastically supportive as always.

“Yeah, it was great. Carl’s been in such a groove,” beamed Rick, grateful for Glenn’s redirection. “The whole team has actually. Four for their last five games.”

“Everybody knows it’s all about having the right sponsor,” kidded Glenn, glancing over Rick’s shoulder at the group of victorious Little Leaguers in the back who, unsurprisingly, all seemed preoccupied with something on Carl’s phone. “Do they need a refill? More pizza?”

Rick, resisting the urge to call it a night, rested his forearm on the counter and nodded. “I have no idea where they’d put it, but I’m pretty sure if you served them the whole kitchen, they’d eat it all.”

“Well,” joked Glenn, stretching out the word for emphasis. “How about just a couple more pies for now? I’ve already got some started.”

“Sounds good,” sighed Rick as he nonchalantly glanced at his watch. As much as he loved celebrating a win with his son, he wanted nothing more than to pull off his boots, collapse onto his bed and just sleep. The week had been a decidedly grueling one, what with an unusually busy workload and Shane’s relentless interrogation, but only now could he admit that it was his burgeoning infatuation with Michonne that had really done a number on him.

“Yeah, sure it does,” Glenn chided sarcastically, attuned not only to the weariness in his friend’s voice, but his obvious preoccupation with other matters. He knew exactly what was bothering Rick, but opted to let it go, considering that he had just been on the receiving end of one of those infamous Grimes death stares. “How about you? Another coke? Water? Some warm milk?”

Rick glared back once more after the last question then held his face in his hands, conceding defeat in his struggle to mask his exhaustion. “Is it that obvious?” he queried, his voice muffled yet playful.

“Yeah, well between wedding planning with Maggie and business really picking up of late, I shouldn’t talk. It’s exhausting,” Glenn replied, patting him on the arm in solidarity. “Just take it easy and relax. I’ve got everything covered.”

The happy-go-lucky restaurateur scooted back towards his fiancé Maggie, who, despite having worked a full day at her own job, was as sprightly and enterprising as ever. She knew Friday nights here were particularly busy, especially when the KC Crushers paid a celebratory visit, so helping Glenn out on weekends was a no-brainer. He snuck in a quick appreciative kiss on her lips so she gave him a playful pat on his rear in response, giggling at his satisfied expression before they both resumed their work.

Rick caught himself smiling at the sight of his friends’ unabashed ebullience, and felt a mild rush of nostalgia for a time when it seemed that every day was full of firsts and every glance was full of the promise of intriguing things to come. It occurred to him that he didn’t have to think too far back to recall when he’d last felt like this. The more he thought of Michonne, which had basically been non-stop since their first meeting, the more he realized that she had reignited a small spark from that aspect of his past life.

As he wondered when he’d have the opportunity to run into her again, his phone vibrated, rousing him from his brief reverie. He read the text message pleading for more food then turned toward his son and gave him an incredulous stare.

“Are you seriously too lazy to get up and ask me?” he wrote, shaking his head in feigned annoyance.

“Not any lazier than you are to get up and ask me that.”

Rick couldn’t help himself but snicker, knowing that his son had a point. He gazed back up to see Carl shrugging as if to ask ‘What?’ and returned the gesture with one of his own, playfully mimicking a slap to his face. He proceeded to thumb out a response.

“You’re lucky that Glenn likes you.”

“Evening,” said Glenn, as an unfamiliar face entered his place. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. Yes, I’m picking up an order.”

Rick continued his reply. “More pizza is on its way.” He winked at Carl, who gave him a thumbs up before rejoining his friends in conversation.

“For Michonne.”

Rick instantly shifted from a slouched posture to his usual, confidently upright stance upon hearing her name. He turned, immediately taking notice of how amazing Michonne looked in a simple tee, white short-sleeved blazer, and jeans, all which seemed perfectly tailored to her slim, toned body.

“Yep, it’s right here,” Glenn replied, placing a warm box on the counter. “Perfect timing. Just pulled it out of the oven.”

“Perfect,” she responded, having just caught sight of the familiarly attractive face in her periphery. Despite having entertained the possibility that he’d be here, Michonne trembled with surprise, then chided herself for her ineptitude at maintaining her composure.

Rick, happy to have been discovered, practically pounced toward her, much to the amusement of Glenn, who noted how quickly he seemed to have gotten his energy back.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” greeted Rick, oblivious to the inquisitive eyes fixated on both himself and the lovely woman beaming back at him. “Getting some dinner?”

Michonne, unable to contain the slight giggle that made its way past her coquettish smile, placed her hand on the pizza box, glanced down at it, then zeroed back in on his inviting eyes.

“That was a stupid question, wasn’t it?” he added, sheepishly running his hand through his unruly curls.

“As a teacher, I’m supposed to say that there are no stupid questions…but-,” she quipped, letting the last word linger in the air.

“Ah, I see how it is,” Rick chuckled audibly, his dimples practically perforating his cheeks. “So I’ll take that as a yes.” Michonne chose to plead the fifth, laughing at his adorable self-deprecation instead. She was getting a kick out of Rick’s expression of faux indignation and wanted it to last for as long as possible, but when it finally morphed back into his warm smile, she simply responded a few beats later with a coy, “Hello, Rick.”

“Hi,” he greeted back, charmingly unaware of just how attractive he was in a black t-shirt and jeans. “I thought I’d might see you here.”

Michonne smiled and nervously ran her fingers through the hair behind her ear, giving them something to do to other than tap nervously on the counter. It was as if Rick had read her mind, since she had been thinking the same thing, but was grateful that he couldn’t. If he only knew how emphatically she had insisted to her friends that they get pizza tonight and that she’d be the one to pick it up, she’d never hear the end of it.

A brief silence filled the suddenly warm air between them, prompting Glenn to retreat towards the kitchen while trying not to forfeit his view of the events unfolding before him.

“This place came highly recommended by an up-and-coming young pizza-chef so I thought I’d check it out,” offered Michonne, who stopped short of admitting that she’d secretly hoped he’d be here too. She could feel the blood rush to her face, and while she silently prayed that Rick would be unable to see through the pretense, a part of her wished he would.

“You won’t regret it,” he intoned softly, picking up on the ambiguity of his statement a few seconds too late. He coughed uneasily, leaning back slightly to relieve the tension, and added, “I mean, Judith knows her stuff. Glenn’s is the best. Speaking of, let me introduce you to him -”

They both turned, expecting to find the owner where they had last seen him, but instead spotted Glenn’s head on the other side of the swinging kitchen door. Rick, assuming that Glenn had probably been staring at them a second earlier, tried in vain to get his attention, then decided to let it go, determined not to waste this opportunity with Michonne.

“I guess it’s a busy night…” Rick offered, brushing off Glenn’s sudden disappearance.

As the two resumed their banter, Glenn, who couldn’t help himself, texted Shane.

G: I think our boy is making his move.

Twenty seconds later he received a response.

S: Rick?

G: Who else, dumbass?

S: Where?

G: Carl’s team won so they’re having pizza. Someone just walked in…never seen him jump up so fast

S: Are u shitting me? I’m missing this??? Who?

G: don’t know her but she’s cute

S: Just cute?

G: dude, Maggie’s here

S: u for real right now? what does she look like?

Suddenly Glenn flinched as Maggie, who had noticed her fiancé’s odd behavior, seemed to appear out of nowhere.

G: give me a sec

“Ok, spill it. What are you doing?” she queried in that playfully stern tone that occasionally made an appearance, especially when Glenn and his friends were involved.

“Nothing,” he lied, despite knowing that he wouldn’t get out of this. “Just texting Shane about something.”

S: what’s happening?

“It wouldn’t be about Rick and that woman over there, would it?” she inquired, nudging her nose towards the couple.

“And if it were?” he smiled in that puppy dog ‘don’t hurt me’ sort of way.

“Oh my god, is she the one you told me about?”

“That would be my guess.”

“Then don’t be so obvious!,” she reprimanded him good-naturedly, simultaneously enjoying this little stake-out they were participating in. “Don’t ruin it for him!”

“I won’t,” he avered, continuing his conversation with Shane.

S: so what the hell is happening?

G: there’s definitely something going on

S: That’s it. I’m coming over

G: don’t be an idiot

“If anybody will, it’s Shane,” he said, after responding to the latest text. “See?”

Glenn held the phone up to show Maggie the evidence, who yelped when she read Shane’s last message. “Hell no!”, she added to drive the point home.

Realizing that her protest may have resonated a little too loudly, she looked up to see if anyone noticed. Thankfully Rick and his friend seemed blissfully unaware of everything around them, so she resumed her admonition, successfully swiping the phone from Glenn’s hand. “I will kick him out if he comes here,” she warned light heartedly and began to feverishly type a response to his last text:

S: Dude- you’re the one who texted ME, so this is on you…you’re the idiot

M: this is Maggie - love ya but you’re BOTH idiots. Leave Rick alone.

S: sorry Mags, but I need some details. This is my bro were talking about.

M: I’m sure Glenn will fill you in as soon as I give him this phone back

S: oh, he better

M: I will say this….they both seem VERY happy to see each other

M: And for the record, she’s gorgeous

Michonne shifted her eyes towards the dining area, finding the intensity of Rick’s gaze momentarily overwhelming. She was impressed by how modern yet charming this place was, with its funky artwork and subtle retro-vibe, and decided that it was assuredly a few steps up from the typical pizza joint. It seemed Rick had some cool friends.

“So is it always this packed?” she questioned, as she caught sight of Carl laughing with his friends.

“It gets a decent crowd most nights, but Carl’s team is celebrating a win so it’s really full tonight,” he bragged, nodding towards the energetic bunch. “Glenn sponsors them.”

“Yes, I see. Well, congratulations are in order then,” she acknowledged, getting a kick out of seeing Rick in proud-Daddy mode. “And where’s Miss Judith this evening?”

Rick gently took hold of her arm and pulled her slightly closer to him, pointing out his daughter who was now contorted in slumber in that adorable way four-year-olds often are.

“How sweet is she?” beamed the doting father, inwardly marveling at how his daughter could fall asleep at any time and place.

“The sweetest,” echoed Michonne as she leaned in a shade closer to him, much to Rick’s delight. Immediately, Michonne took notice of her own body’s physiological responses to the sensation of Rick’s touch and hoped they’d be subtle enough to go unnoticed.

“…most of the time,” she added in jest, laughing in tandem with Rick after his knowing nod of agreement.

“Yeah,” he smiled, his lips curling up in that same sexy way they did the first time she saw him. “She definitely has her moments.”

Michonne admired the devotion she saw in his eyes whenever he spoke of his children, adding it to her ever-growing list of his appealing attributes she had mentally catalogued since meeting him. Although she was enjoying this repartee with Rick immensely, and found him to be as charming as always, she did find it increasingly difficult to conceal her burgeoning fondness for him, especially since all she could focus on was how close they were now standing to each other and how incredibly hot he looked.

Rick, likewise, was taken in by her, enamored by the fact that she managed to look sophisticated and sexy yet casually laid back at the same time. There was an ease about her that he found incredibly appealing, and all he wanted to do was discover more about her. It also didn’t hurt that she smelled incredible, or that her clothes cradled her curves just enough to resuscitate some latent urges.

“So, uh…you still settling into King County?” He queried, genuine in his curiosity, yet desperate to distract her from the fact that he’d just been eyeing those curves.

“I haven’t had the chance to really explore all that much, but I like what I’ve seen so far,” she answered mischievously.

“Is that so?” Rick grinned playfully, positive that he detected an invitation of sorts in her flirtatious delivery.

“It certainly has potential,” she countered, refusing to take her eyes off his.

With that, Rick had little doubt that his feelings toward her were reciprocated. He was sure she was baiting him to ask her out, but should he? His indecision was driving him crazy, but so was the thought of passing on another opportunity. Ever since his last encounter with her at the grocery store, he had wavered pathetically between rationalizing his inaction and mentally kicking himself for it; the latter often dominating in the end. The truth was, he wasn’t certain if the unwritten rule of not dating your child’s preschool teacher even existed. What he was certain of, was that he wanted to get to know Michonne better, and in this moment he couldn’t think of a logical reason why seeing her would hurt anyone, least of all Judith, who emphatically adored her.

Imagining Shane’s voice whispering Tennyson into his ear ad nauseum, Rick told himself, “Screw it,” shutting down his own naysaying voice once and for all. He leaned in an inch closer and inhaled fully, hoping the extra oxygen would quell the slight nervousness he could feel propagating through his body. Fumbling with his fingers, he lowered his handsome face and subtlely licked his lips, preparing himself for whatever answer he’d hear.

“Well,” he began as he brought his gaze back onto her beautifully wide, expectant eyes, “I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds here, but how about I show you around some time? Get you acquainted with things? We could grab dinner afterwards, or we could-”

“Rick,” she hushed, utterly wrecked by the nervous yet sexy timbre of his voice, “I’d really like that.”

“Good,” he smiled back, breathing a subtle sigh of relief. “Me, too. I’ve got the kids this weekend, so how about next week sometime?”

“That’s perfect,” Michonne replied eagerly, hoping that he hadn’t taken notice of her shaking hands. She had always been pegged, mocked even, for her cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor, but here she was, struggling mightily to stifle her excitement. The fact was, in her downtime, she had thought of very little aside from Rick Grimes, and now that she’d be spending more time with him - alone time - she started to imagine all the things they could do with and to each other.

Rick took out his phone and began to type, causing Maggie, who had remained frozen in her lookout position alongside Glenn, to squeal with delight.

“He’s getting her number,” she reported, stating the obvious. “I’m so excited for him!”

Glenn smiled and mumbled, “Yeah, me too,” more as an acknowledgment to himself than a response. Glenn could tell that his friend’s whole demeanor had changed. Gone was the exasperated, hesitant guy from a few minutes ago and in his place stood the self-assured, affable guy he’d always known him to be.

“You think it’s safe to go out there now?” he asked facetiously. “I mean, I do have a business to run and all. Plus it’s starting to look suspicious, no?”

Maggie chuckled and admitted that they both got a little carried away. “Yeah, we probably should.”

Just as Rick finished entering her info, the nosy couple emerged, failing miserably in their attempt at casual indifference.

Rick pretended not to notice their antics, hoping that Michonne hadn’t already discovered how insane his friends could be.

“Sorry about that,” explained Glenn, who tried to convince Michonne that he’d been extremely busy with work back in the kitchen.

“Michonne, this is Glenn,” offered Rick, doing his best to downplay the situation. “Glenn -Michonne. She recently took over as Judith’s pre-school teacher.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Glenn,” she said, holding her hand out to greet him.

“Likewise,” he grinned, finally understanding the nature of Rick’s unusual situation.

“I love the decor here. It’s fabulous.”

“Thanks. I hope you feel the same way about the food,” kidded Glenn, deciding then and there that she was a keeper.

“And I’m Maggie,” blurted out the bubbly brunette, side-eying Glenn for his apparent lack of manners.

“They’re engaged,” added Rick, pleased to see that his friends seemed genuinely happy to meet her.

“Congratulations,” Michonne exclaimed. “How exciting for you both.”

There was a tiny pause, as all four of them considered what to say next.

Michonne asked, “So what do I owe?”

Before Glenn could respond, Rick interjected, telling him, “Just add it to the tab for tonight.”

Michonne protested. “That’s so sweet, but -”

“Please, let me,” Rick insisted.

“Rick, I-”

“This one’s on the house, anyway,” Maggie piped in. “It’s part of a promotion for first time customers. We want to make sure you come back here the next time you’re up for pizza.”

Michonne acquiesced, knowing she wasn’t going to win this battle.

“Thank you. Truly,” she nodded, as she placed her hand over her heart in gratitude. “And I have a feeling I’ll definitely be back.”

She peered back at Rick as she spoke, and he did the same, both of their faces etched with knowing smiles. Maggie and Glenn took that as a cue to excuse themselves and scampered off to belatedly tend to their customers.

“I should get back,” Michonne sighed, unenthused by the prospect of leaving. “It could get ugly if I don’t feed my friends soon.”

“If they get half as bad as Carl does when he’s hungry, believe me, I understand.” Rick picked up the box of pizza in one hand and grazed Michonne’s arm with the other. “Let me walk you out to your car,” he whispered before glancing back at Judith.

He caught sight of Maggie out of the corner of his eye, gesturing and nudging him to go. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” she mouthed, thrilled to see her friend so unequivocally happy.

Rick nodded then turned toward the exit, opening the door and respectfully motioning for Michonne to go ahead. She obliged, giggling at herself for how utterly smitten she was with this insanely adorable, attentive man.

Once they reached her car, which was parked only a few steps from the entrance, she spun around to face him. She was surprised by how giddy he made her feel, but took comfort in the fact that she seemed to be having the same effect on him.

“Your friends seem great,” she mused earnestly before arching her lips in a wry smirk. “But they’re horrible liars. There’s clearly no promotion.”

“Oh, there is,” he avered, unconvincingly deadpan. “But I think it just started…and ended, with you.”

She stared at his inscrutable face before they both lost it, letting their breezy laughter diffuse through the air until all that remained were the possibilities in the silence.

“I really should get going,” she lamented, “My friends are going to kill me.”

“Well I don’t want that to happen, so yes, you should go,” he joked, tilting his head as if shooing her away.

“Goodnight, Rick,” she smirked, shaking her head at his cheekiness.

“Goodnight, Michonne” he whispered, piercing her luminous eyes with his.

As Michonne got into her car, Rick took a few steps back to give her room, taking advantage of the view the increased distance and her movements afforded him. As his gaze lingeringly shifted focus from her perfect backside to her flawless face, she waited, cognizant of yet amenable to his wandering eyes. She had stolen a few glances of his physical attributes randomly during their conversation, so she certainly couldn’t fault him for doing the same.

He handed her the pizza, which was cold at this point, and shut the door while she turned the ignition. Michonne lowered her window, and waved halfheartedly, reluctant to say goodbye.

“Get home safely,” Rick directed.

“You, too,” she replied.

“I’ll call you soon.”

“I’m looking forward to next week.”

“Me too,” he grinned then paused before a wry smile crept up. “It certainly has potential.”

She shook her head, as if to say “you’re too much” then drove off, worried that if she didn’t leave now she never would.

Rick stood in the parking lot, smiling to himself as Michonne’s car pulled away. He sighed, preparing himself for the military-style grilling he was about to receive, but quickly shrugged it off knowing it’d be worth it. The decision to ask her out had taken a lot of deliberation, but the instant he saw her walk in, he knew that the night couldn’t have ended any other way.

Michonne held it together until she was positive that she was long out of view, then gripped the steering wheel with both hands and squeezed, finally letting out the squeal that had wanted to escape since the moment she saw him tonight. She’d have a tough few days ahead of her trying to accomplish anything in anticipation of their date, she knew, but realized she had to get through the gauntlet that was a Sasha-Paul interrogation first.

Michonne took her time on the road, opting not to play music or sing aloud as she normally did. Taking advantage of the perfect weather instead, she kept the window down as the cool evening breeze flickered by, providing the perfect backbeat for the low, raspy sound of Rick’s voice to echo in her mind the rest of the way home.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3|

#author: dirtiebirdie17 #richonne #richonne fanfiction #richonne round robin #teacher's pet #rjd writing network #rick grimes #michonne #judith grimes #carl grimes #grimes family 2.0

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kuriquinn · 8 years ago

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Prompt/Request: Cute Sarada&Sasuke Bonding

Anonymous said:

for your Friday fic request would you consider doing something baby/toddler sarada and sasuke related (or the whole family). Maybe something funny or cute. Im always a sucker for a story with sasuke and baby sarada

General Disclaimer

Russian Version

“Papa! Story!”

Sasuke pauses in the act of extinguishing the light in his daughter’s room, and glances back over his shoulder. His four-year-old daughter glowers expectantly at him from her bed, all three feet of her ramrod straight. One arm clutches an old and well-loved stuffed dinosaur, while the other is bent on her hip in a pose eerily reminiscent of her mother. The expression on her face is even more so, and although he finds the whole effect amusing, the toddler isn’t the know that.

“Is that a reminder or a demand?” he asks her quietly. “Either way, there’s a better way to say it.”

Her nose wrinkles for a moment, but then she adopts a penitent look and amends, “Papa, you forgot the story. May you please tell me one?”

She speaks slowly and with careful diction, just as he has taught her.

Her vocabulary’s getting better, even if her grasp of grammar is a little lacking.

Sakura is more lenient when it comes to their daughter’s burgeoning conversational skills (“Sasuke, every child has a lisp at some point, she’s not gearing up to address the Five Shinobi Nations or anything!”), but he is adamant any child of his is going to know how to speak properly.

He maintains that this has nothing to do with Naruto’s son starting to talk a full month before Sarada.

Not that he really has to worry. It’s already evident that his daughter is a precocious child, more so than her agemates excepting, perhaps, of Shikamaru’s kid. Luckily, given her parentage, laziness will not be something Sarada is plagued by. Sasuke is restless and ambitious by nature, and Sakura a force to be reckoned with.

The latter is one of the reasons why his wife is still at the hospital right now, managing some emergency or other that he knows he would never have the patience to contend with. As such, Sasuke has been left to fend for himself and Sarada until she returns.

Not that this is a hardship.

Fatherhood suits Sasuke, more than he ever expected. Every day that he spends with Sarada is a day where he gets watch her discover something new, to see the world through eyes that are untarnished by pain or suffering. It’s an innocence he can’t remember ever having, and one he will drive himself to the ends of sanity to protect

He has never loved anyone in his life as much as he loves his daughter. It’s a different emotion than what he feels for his wife, something primal and evolutionary, and which he can’t even begin to articulate. It fills him every time he looks at Sarada, and almost manages to overwhelm the memories of hollowness and hatred.

“Papa?” His daughter has clearly exercised her patience waiting for his response, drawing him out of his musing and back to the present. “Mama always does stories.”

As if he hasn’t sat with the two of them every night and listened to those stories.

“Which one do you want?” he asks, moving back across the room. “‘The Fisherman and the Maiden’? Or ‘The Red Swordmaster’?”

She’s been obsessed with that one for weeks.

“No.”

“Then what?”

“A new story,” she tells him matter-of-factly, jumping from standing to sitting and settling her dinosaur on her lap, as if he too intends to listen. “A Papa story, okay?”

“I don’t know any stories,” he states simply.

Sarada is not impressed with this answer and screws up her face, arms crossed. This particular look of hers is not reminiscent of Sakura, and he can only surmise it comes from his genes. If that’s the case, he might understand now why so many girls were drawn to him as a child, because even annoyed, Sarada looks adorable.

Not a word I ever thought I would use.

Nor is it something he ever expected would make him weaken his resolve.

“Let’s see,” he sighs.

He doesn’t like to fail, especially in front of his own daughter, but he is no raconteur. Most stories he’s heard are either utterly dull or not for children. The fables his mother told him when he was young have already been told from Sarada’s infancy, and as for the ones he’s lived himself…

Well, only one of those ended well, and it’s far too long and too complicated a tale for a four-year-old girl.

Although…

He supposes when it comes to the long and the complicated, it’s never too early to lay foundations.

He sits down cross-legged on the bed. Sarada wastes no time worming her way into his lap and settling against him, pressing close to his chest, her ear against his heart. Sasuke automatically brings his arm around to secure her, even though she’s in no danger.

“Long ago, long ago,” he starts, the way Sakura always begins her stories, “there was a very wise man. He was cleverer than any other in the land. People came to him from far and wide to learn, for he was a respected teacher.”

Sarada jerks upright, nearly dashing her head against Sasuke’s chin to demand, “Like Uncle ‘Kashi?”

Sasuke rolls his eyes.

Sarada’s hero-worship of his former sensei irritates him somewhat. She has declared several times that she intends to marry him when she grows up, something the Sixth Hokage is wise enough to chuckle off while quickly making himself scarce.

“No. Much more dignified than Kakashi.”

“Well…Well, like Grandfather?”

“Perhaps if he didn’t crack so many poor jokes.”

“No, not Grandpa,” she insists. “Grandfather. Your papa.”

Sasuke stills at this. He doesn’t mention his family very often, but Sarada is at the age where she’s beginning to recognise patterns and ask questions. Her maternal grandparents are a big part of her life, and she has come to understand their relation to her through Sakura. She also knows that Sasuke’s parents are dead, but has yet to truly ask questions about them.

He supposes he should have expected this, but in truth, he isn’t ready for it.

“What do you know about him?” Sasuke deflects, trying to determine just what he is in for tonight.

“Well, Uncle ‘Kashi said he meeted him when he was small and he said he looked mad a lot and he said he didn’t smile a lot and…and he said that’s why you don’t smile a lot, but I don’t think it’s true, Papa, ‘cos you smile lots.”

It would have to be Kakashi, of course. Neither Naruto or Sakura ever met his parents, so they wouldn’t be a wealth of information when it comes to them.

“And what else did Kakashi tell you about your grandfather.”

“I don’t know. Uncle ‘Kashi said he only talked to him sometimes. But if it was just sometimes, how come he said that?” she wonders, puzzling out the inconsistency like she didn’t think about it until now. “Papa, was Grandfather mad a lot?”

“No,” Sasuke responds quietly. “But he was responsible for many people, and sometimes that made it hard to approach him.”

“Oh. Okay.” She pauses to consider this, and then questions, “Why?”

“Sarada, do you want a story tonight or not?”

Because he is not in the frame of mind just yet to speak about his family, least of all his father, even in the safe, familiar space of his daughter’s room.

“Yes, the story!”

“Very well,” Sasuke continues. “Because the wise man was –”

“What’s his name?”

“Sarada…”

“Papa! Mama always says the names.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to do it differently from your mother,” he accedes solemnly, mouth twitching slightly at the absolute scandal that might cause. He pauses for a moment, trying to decide exactly what direction he wants to take this in, and eventually continues. “His name was Hagoromo.”

“Hah! That’s a funny name.”

“So is Sarada.”

“Papa!” she protests with a giggle. “Then why’d you call me it?”

“Because Boruto was taken.”

“Nuh-uh! Mama said you named me after her and you and Uncle Itachi and that’s why you called me it.”

“So we did.”

“But how come?”

“So that no matter where you go in the world, you will always be connected to your family,” he answers, which is both the simplest explanation and one she is old enough to understand.

“Oh. Okay. So did the Hugomomo man have a family too?”

“Ha-go-ro-mo.”

“Ha-go-ro-mo. Did he have a family too?”

“No. His parents had died a long time before, and his brother had gone far away.”

“Why?”

“Because he had a very important job to do.”

“But then the Hagoromo was lonely.”

“Perhaps at first. Not forever, though. As I said, he was a wise teacher, and after –”

“What’d he teach?”

Sasuke shoots his daughter a mildly irritated look at the constant interruptions peppering his tale, but when she gazes up at him in genuine curiosity he relents.

“He taught ninshu, which is what people had before ninjutsu existed. He was known all throughout the land, his students travelling from far and wide. They came from beyond the Land of the Ancestors to speak with him, and learn from his wisdom. It did not take long before he was surrounded by the most faithful of disciples.”

“This story is kinda boring, Papa.”

“I could always stop.”

“No!”

Sasuke smirks and continues.

“Eventually Hagoromo married, and had two sons, before his wife died in childbirth.”

“What’s childbirth?”

“When a woman has a baby.”

“Oh. But why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did she die?”

“Because sometimes it’s dangerous.”

“When Mama childbirthed me, was it dangerous?”

“When your mother ‘gave birth’ to you, not ‘childbirthed’.”

“When she gave birth. Was Mama okay?”

Sasuke thinks back to that nerve-wracking experience, his eyes hardening, and says, “Yes. Your mother is strong.”

“But the Hagoromo’s wife wasn’t?”

“She was. But sometimes that isn’t enough.”

“Well why didn’t a medic-nin like Mama saved her?”

“There weren’t any at the time. Even the healers they did have back then didn’t know everything your mother knows.”

“So her body stopped working,” Sarada determines.

She has a vague understanding of death, slightly more comprehensive than the average toddler. Given the history of her family, Sasuke and Sakura chose very early on to answer her as honestly as possible. Which naturally led to a discussion about why she only had one set of grandparents or why she could never meet her uncle. Thankfully Sakura fielded those difficult questions, offering both a comforting and practical explanation that Sasuke doesn’t think he would have been able to handle.

In many ways, his wife is much stronger than he is.

“Yes,” Sasuke confirms. “Hagoromo’s two sons –” Sarada shoots him an expectant look and he sighs, adding, “Indra and Asura,”, which causes her to beam in approval before he continues, “were both healthy and strong. They watched out for one another as brothers should –”

“Like Uncle Itachi and you?”

“… Yes.”

It’s the shortest answer to a long and complicated story he may never tell her in its entirety.

“Papa, why don’t I have a brother?”

“Ask your mother.”

“Mama said ask you.”

“Of course she did.”

“So why don’t I?”

“That’s a question for another day.”

“Well I think I should have a brother. Or a sister. Boruto just got Himawari. It’s not fair.”

“Life is often unfair.”

Sarada pouts at this, crossing her arms across her chest. Sasuke chooses to continue the story in order to detract from a possible on-coming tantrum. Sarada isn’t a particularly spoiled child, but she has her moments, and often over ridiculous matters. Sakura nearly burst a rib trying not to laugh that morning when Sarada had a complete meltdown over a ladybug landing on her nose.

“The two brothers grew up together, the best of friends even though they were very different. Indra was a prodigy who learned his father’s teachings with ease, while Asura had more difficulty. He had a kind heart, however, and made up for his weaknesses with endless determination.”

“Like Uncle Naruto!”

“…Yes. It was because of this determination to succeed, and because his heart was open to others, that Hagoromo decided that Asura should inherit his teachings one day,” Sasuke tells her, carefully editing out the specifics of the story. “This made Indra angry, because he thought he should inherit the teachings.”

“Why?”

“Because he was more powerful.”

“No, why did the Hagoromo want only one of them to teach? Mama and Auntie Ino always say you have to share. He should have made them share.”

Sasuke’s mouth tugs upward here, amused that this tiny girl can see a logic that most adults can’t. “Perhaps the old sage was not as wise as you.”

Sarada beams at the compliment.

“In any case, Indra and Asura fought about it.”

“Did Indra beat Asura?”

“No. He was defeated by his brother.”

“But he was strong! Why’d he lose?”

“Because power is not the only quality a true warrior needs,” Sasuke lectures her. “Through his determination to succeed in the face of failure, and to protect his loved ones, Asura became the strongest. Indra had never truly understood what it meant to care for someone, and want to protect them.”

“So…he lost?”

“Yes.”

“And…and then what happened? Did Asura kill him?” Sarada’s voice trembles as she asks the question, the very idea seeming to perturb her.

“No. Indra was wounded in the battle, and used the last of his strength to bring himself far away from Asura and his father. He found himself lying on a shore in a distant land, weakened and unable to heal himself. It seemed, for a time, that he was meant to die.”

Sarada’s cat-like eyes become round. “Did he die, Papa?”

“No. He was found one day by a very young girl with a kind heart, who took pity on him.”

“What was her name?” Sarada demands, barely waiting for him to finish the sentence.

Sasuke is simultaneously annoyed and amused by his daughter’s detail-oriented nature. “Shachi.”

“Was she pretty?”

Sasuke sighs again.

Of course, a four-year-old girl needs to know what the heroine of the story looks like. Both he and Sakura have tried since Sarada’s birth to praise intelligence over physical beauty, but there’s just something about aesthetics that appeals to young girls.

“I suppose so.”

“What did she look like?”

“I don’t know.”

“Like Mama?”

“Sure,” he allows, not concerned with whether that’s true or not. He knows it’s the only way she’ll let him continue. Anyone else in the world and he would have gotten up and left already, but he wouldn’t give up spending time with his daughter for anything. And it heartens him that she is so intent on establishing facts; the skill will serve her well when she gets older.

“Okay,” she declares decisively, and makes a magnanimous gesture that he continue. He thinks she’s been watching Kakashi too often. Honestly, the man didn’t even want to be Hokage, but he plays the role well. Then, she suddenly, Sarada sits up straighter again. “Oh! Papa, were they going to fall in love? You said Indra never loved anyone, and then he was saveded by Shachi and maybe he liked her because she helped him and so he could learn to care and then he’d be able to go back home and be friends with Asura again!”

Her eyes shine with the triumph of someone who has just figured out the answer to a difficult question. Sasuke knows in the world of fairy tales, that’s how the story would end. However, it’s important that Sarada learn that the expected outcome is not always guaranteed.

“It is true that over time she grew to care deeply for Indra,” Sasuke allows slowly, “and although he didn’t admit it, he had feelings for her in return.”

“Why didn’t he say so?” Sarada demands, indignant.

“Although Indra was learning to care…he also continued to desire power. He worried that if anyone knew who he cared for, they might use it against him. He couldn’t allow for that kind of weakness.”

“That’s silly.”

“It is,” Sasuke agrees, knowing that his hard-won lesson is something that Sarada has always inherently understood.

“Did they get married?”

“Yes, they did.”

“Then they must have had babies and lived happily ever after,” Sarada concludes. “Like you and Mama.”

Life is so very simple at her age.

“…They were content for many years,” Sasuke says after a pause, deciding that tonight is not the night to tell her how the story really ends. “They had children, and Indra’s followers grew in number to spread his teachings. One day, those teachings would become ninjutsu.”

“Like what you and Mama can do!”

“Yes.”

“Can I learn ninjutsu too?”

“One day, when you’re older.”

“I’ll be older tomorrow, Papa,” Sarada tells him earnestly. “Can I learn ninjutsu tomorrow?”

“It takes many years to learn ninjutsu,” Sasuke says. “And only by people who are very well-rested – which means you have to go to sleep now.”

“Okay!” she chirps. “And then you’ll teach me?”

“If you want me to,” he says, pulling back the sheets on her bed and allowing her to settle back in.

“I want you to!” she insists. “I need to be strong too so I can protect you and Mama and Uncle Kashi and Grandma and Grandpa and Auntie Ino and Inojin and Uncle Naruto and…and everyone!”

“Hm.” He leans over to brush his lips against her forehead. “Sleep well.”

He straightens up and prepares to leave, but then she cries, “Papa! You forgot!”

When he turns around, she is holding out the stuffed dinosaur, a plaintiff look on her face. He sighs – he still feels slightly ridiculous doing this, and thank the gods Naruto doesn’t know about it – bends over and pretends to kiss the stuffed animal as well.

Satisfied, Sarada burrows back under her covers with the toy. “Good night, Papa, I love you.”

“… I love you, too,” he responds.

He adjusts her blankets one last time to ensure they’re not covering her head – she has Sakura’s tendency to turn herself into a giant cocoon – and shuts off the light.

On his way out of the bedroom, Sasuke passes the silent listener that has been lurking out in the hallway since about halfway through his tale.

“That’s not the story I remember being told in school,” Sakura says, a wry smile on her face.

“Well, they don’t know the actual version, do they?” he counters matter-of-factly.

“Maybe we should have them change it.”

“That might be a problem. Changing history usually requires sources. I doubt they’ll accept “because I lived it” as justification.”

Sakura chuckles again, and he follows her to the kitchen. “What happened to just telling her ‘The Red Swordmaster’ again?”

“She wanted a ‘Papa Story’.”

“You know that she meant you-you. Not past-self-you.”

“It still fits the parameters. If she wanted something different, she’ll have to learn to be more specific,” he replies lightly. “As it is, she didn’t seem disappointed.”

“You shouldn’t be lawyering your own daughter.”

“How else will she learn?”

Sakura rolls her eyes, reaching into the cupboard for the small flask of sake they keep there; some evenings she enjoys a nightcap, and rather than make her drink alone, Sasuke partakes as well. Only a sip or two, however; of his many strengths, tolerance to alcohol is not one of them.

They sit together in companionable silence for a few moments.

“… Why tell her that story?” Sakura asks quietly after a time. “She has so many books…”

“She was tired of them,” he answers. “It’s the shortest, least complicated story that I know.”

“But…that one is so…” she hesitates, and then concludes, “sad.”

“I suppose it depends on where you end it,” Sasuke remarks, gazing down at her meaningfully. It takes her a beat to follow his logic, and then colour spreads delicately across her cheeks.

“You’re getting better at that,” she grumbles.

“At what?”

“Saying the right thing…”

“And that’s bad?”

“No. It’s dangerous,” she tells him, still tellingly red in the face.

“How?”

But she waves him away, lifting her cup to her lips again.

“Sarada asked me something interesting earlier,” Sasuke says casually, and then waits an extra beat, just long enough for Sakura to get a descent mouthful of her sake. “She was wondering why she doesn’t have a brother or a sister. That’s something we should work on, isn’t it?”

The sake ends up on the floor, and judging by the gasping-splutter, completely down the wrong tube in Sakura’s throat.

Sasuke smirks.

終わり

This kind of fulfils both a prompt and my contribution to Sarada’s birthday ^_^ I tried to keep Sarada’s speaking ability age-appropriate, but keep in mind she’s pretty precocious. I remember (and have been told) that I had a very advanced vocabulary and understanding of the world at around four years old, which I can see her having too. Full sentences and ten-dollar-words and all! Also, I abhor using baby talk for kids in a story if I don’t have to. It’s just a pet-peeve of mine!

Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated!

クリ

#friday fic requests #sasusakusara fanfiction #uchiha family #kuriquinn #sasuke uchiha #sarada uchiha #fluff #family #feels #sasusaku #legacy of fire

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startyourfuturerp · 5 years ago

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congrats, admin julie! you’ve been accepted as rachel berry. please remember to follow everyone here, and send in your account within 24 hours!

note: I’m posting this as an example application! Please do not feel like your bio has to be as long as the one here; I’m just...extra.

ooc

Name: Admin Julie

Age: 25

Timezone: EST

Triggers: rfp

Past Blogs: rfp

Name: Rachel Barbra Berry

Age & Date of Birth: 17; 12/18

Schoolyear: Freshman

Hometown: Red Cloud, Nebraska.

Major(s)/Minor(s): Musical Theater/Dance

Backstory:

Rachel has gotten used to being alone.

Born in Abilene, Texas, to an emancipated high school senior of a mother and a father with a full-ride football scholarship to UT-Austin who had no intention of giving p his future, there was no way they could support a baby.

Enter: Hiram and Leroy Berry. They’d been looking to adopt for years, and finally they stars aligned - that’s what they say, when they tell the story, which Rachel loves because stars are sort of her symbol - it’s a metaphor, for her being a star.

So the stars aligned, and Rachel was taken from Abilene, Texas, to Red Cloud, Nebraska - an 11-hour drive with an infant. Hiram and Leroy say, was their first and most grueling test of fatherhood.

Rachel was precocious from birth, though, being highly intelligent and verbose, even before she could speak in full (or any) sentences. Her propensity for music developed early, and Hiram and Leroy have the crackly old home videos to show it, with Rachel pulling herself up in her playpen to dance along with ABBA or baby-gurgle in response to Barbra in Funny Girl. Rachel says that she’s always been destined for the stage.

Unfortunately, being destined for the stage - or, really, being destined for anything at all - is that others...are not. And when people who are not destined for anything (or worse, destined for nothing) come across someone so clearly meant for more, they get...mean.

In Rachel’s case, they get very very mean.

School was difficult for Rachel. Not academically, of course - Red Cloud’s public school system was a joke - but socially, emotionally. That was harder. That was not a joke. It went beyond the garden variety kind of cruelty children dole out to each other - Rachel assumes that was worse for her because she didn’t give up. She didn’t ever let their opinions change who she was, fundamentally, on the inside. Sure, she spent more lunchtimes than she cares to remember eating by herself in the girl’s bathroom, but that didn’t stop her from auditioning for and winning the leads in nearly every school performance; it didn’t stop her from joining and running nearly every club Red Cloud High offered. It didn’t stop her, period. Nothing could, she thought.

She was wrong.

Everything got worse when junior year began. Kids were finding more creative and insidious ways to pick on her; she maintains she could’ve handed it, but her objections were overruled when she accidentally left her phone unlocked on the counter while she was making dinner. A text came in, from a blocked number; a text saying terrible things. Nothing she hadn’t been called before, but still. Rachel didn’t even actually see it, didn’t hear her text tone go off, but Hiram happened to be passing by, and, well, his reading that text preceded a week of meetings with the school: first, the vice principal and guidance counselor, then the principal, then the school board. When nobody could or would do anything to protect their baby girl, Hiram and Leroy pulled her from school. Leroy got certified as a home-school teacher and took a sabbatical from work, and they never looked back.

Still, being homeschooled didn’t solve all of her problems, as much of as a relief as it was to be able to study in peace and not worry about being harassed at every turn. As her junior year rolled in to her senior year, her daily lessons became integrated with college prep, and by October she knew there was only one college worth applying to: NYADA.

And she really thought she’d get in. So did her dads. She spent months rehearsing for her audition - and then she choked. For the first time in her life, she choked.

She was sent a swift and expected denial letter.

Rachel was not going to let something like that stop her. She was nothing if not dogged, determined, and driven - and she got what she wanted.

She got a second audition. She killed it. It was the best she’d ever sung.

She didn’t get in.

The rejection letter, this time, was a little kinder, but not by much - it involved a critique of her performance that Rachel thought was entirely incorrect, but the main reason for her rejection wasn’t her singing ability - it was her academics. Red Cloud High wasn’t exactly a big name in the world of high school academics, and even if it had been, being homeschooled probably had hurt as much as it had helped.

There was no fixing this.

Rachel stayed in ed for two weeks. Actually, most of June is still a bit of blur - a blur that ended, naturally, by her dads, refusing to watch their baby girl waste her talent and waste away entirely.

It turned out that while they absolutely believed Rachel would get into NYADA, they’d hedged their bets. Unbeknownst to Rachel, they’d applied to other schools on her behalf - UCLA, Julliard, and each of her fathers’ alma maters, NYU and Ginsburg University.

Rachel, at that point, barely cared where she went, or if she went anywhere, for that matter, but after three breakneck weeks of college tours, interviews and research, Rachel found herself with a renewed fire in her belly and a re-invigorated desire to prove herself. She also found herself a member of Ginsburg U’s 2019 incoming class.

She’ll show NYADA what they’re missing. She’s going to show them all exactly how wrong they’ve been about her all these years. She’s going to prove herself, and she’s going to blow them all away.

She has to.

Sample: rfp

#syf!accepted #syf!rachel

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