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sunderwight · 4 months ago

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Headcanon/Theory/Concept/Etc Concerning Dragons in the World of Ice and Fire:

The ancient Valyrian blood magic system for taming dragons does increase the general affinity of those of Valyrian descent for dragons. In this case, the general affinity is non-specific. Because Valyria was a slave empire and most menial tasks were handled by members of the lower classes, a lot of dragon handling and care (feeding, cleaning the pits, assisting in training, etc) like what we see the servants of the Dragon Pits in canon doing, would have still been handled by slaves and servants in Valyria itself. If you don't want to be constantly replacing staff all the time, and losing experienced/skilled personnel to random fits of dragon temper, it's best if all if your people have some affinity for dragon handling regardless of rank. So whatever the Valyrian blood mages did, they did it to the whole populace.

But then, how to ensure that only your upper classes are actually taming and riding dragons? After all, you're a slave owning prick who doesn't want your staff stealing dragon eggs to raise in secret and use as part of some violent uprising against you. You'll want some kind of security measure to make that less feasible.

Enter the weird and (in the future) inscrutable "dragon affinity" system. The blood mages find a way to basically encode certain types of dragons so that they will strongly favor specific bloodlines. This system, in turn, is passed among the dragons themselves via their bloodlines. Which basically binds certain lineages of dragons to certain lineages of Valyrian houses. Like say you have Ancient Targaryens living in their Valyrian holdings, and they have Balerion's grandma in their dragon stables. They want to make sure that none of their slaves can steal any of her eggs and eventually become a dragon rider. There's no 100% foolproof method of doing that, since dragons are still somewhat inscrutable. But, you can drastically decrease the odds of success by making Targaryen blood significantly more appealing to Dragon Meemaw and her offspring. As a bonus, this also makes it less likely for the rival dragon riding houses to claim another house's dragons, too.

But there's a bit of a flaw in this system (which is probably the only solution that can be deployed by use of blood-related magics): noble houses tend to intermarry. Obviously, there are a distinct lack of political advantages to marrying commoners, so the Valyrian dragon riding houses would have preferred to marry among themselves and/or powerful foreign rulers. But this means that after a certain point, everyone is related. The magic doesn't care about surnames or paperwork, it cares about blood. So let's say you're Ancient Dragon Lord Targaryen and you marry one of your younger kids off to a different dragon rider house. Their kids are, genetically, still as Targaryen as your direct heir's kids.

So after a while you're still locking out the slaves and servants from being able to tame dragons, but you're not locking out your rival houses. You're losing that perk. Which may not seem all that important at first, but as we witnessed with the Dance, civil wars between dragon riders can get extremely messy, and a lot of it can often come down to posturing about who has the most and/or strongest dragons. So it probably wouldn't take long before various dragon riding houses were wanting to ensure that their dragons were restricted to their actual house, and that their rivals couldn't sneak in and reduce their dragon numbers by claiming dragons from their stock. (You'd think containing the dragons might solve that, but dragons are a bit hard to contain, really.)

Hence, the rise of inbreeding. You try and make sure your house's main lines especially have a higher percentage of "Targaryen" blood, and that none of your rivals have any of it either. The downsides of incest are perhaps mitigated by the same blood mages who have been influencing things from the beginning, perhaps magically tweaking your genetics to reduce the odds of complications, and researching more ways to refine this blood-based system of locking others out of ever accessing your power.

But I imagine that the system required maintaining. There are still going to be times when it's more advantageous to form alliances than to keep your dragons strictly controlled, after all, not to mention limits to how much inbreeding you can do even with magical intervention before shit's getting very Habsburg on you. Not to mention the dragons themselves can be tricky to control, and are less liable to understand the political motivations for not mixing their bloodlines with the perfectly attractive dragons several caves over, who belong to your rivals. Luckily, with Valyrian blood mages still around, you probably just need to pay through the nose to get someone to swing by every few generations and update the blood-based security codes. So to speak. Renew the magic binding your people to your dragons to account for all the drifting genetic nuances. So you don't necessarily need to be wedding siblings to one another every generation.

Except, after the Doom, all those blood mages are gone.

So on the one hand, the Targaryens no longer need to worry about rival dragon riders. Because they're (mostly) all dead. But on the other hand, there's no way to update the bloodline passwords on your dragons now. With each passing generation, you're going to lose some of your advantages for controlling them, unless you're inbreeding at a level that is going to severely limit your ability to make alliances and is going to, you know, completely fuck with your family dynamics for all foreseeable generations. Plus, since you're not a blood mage and this situation is kind of unprecedented, you probably don't really know how long the magic will be able to hold out against the variables of increased genetic diversity over the years. If you "thin" your bloodline too much, how long before you've got basically zero advantages in taming dragons compared to everyone else? Conversely, if the magic is really strong and remains true even through dozens of generations, does that mean you're granting the same advantages to every house you marry your extraneous kids out to over the years? Does a Baratheon have the exact same capacity to tame a dragon as a Targaryen?

So your choices are basically to let it go, to try and retain control over the dragons via culture and influence and knowledge instead of blood purity and incest, or, double down and prioritize power and control above all else and retain whatever you can from the old blood magics by committing to an unhinged level of inbreeding. And then just tell everyone else that it's totally normal for Valyrians and you're an exception to all the usual rules against marrying your siblings, it's a cultural thing, and totally sell that because 1) it's kind of true and 2) anybody with the authority to call you out on exaggerating has just met a mysterious-yet-fiery end via the Doom.

Basically, you consign your descendants to generations of dysfunction and insularity that is guaranteed to alienate them from any of the nearby cultures they might assimilate into, in exchange for increased (but not total!) control over all hypothetical future dragons. Then you destroy a lot of information about dragons so that it can never be stolen, so that no one else can ever learn that taming dragons without your blood is still entirely possible, just harder and more dangerous. (Then you spend the Century of Blood embroiled in a civil war where you kill off most of your dragons, but uh that part wasn't planned, probably.)

Anyway that's why I think the Targaryens are Like That, and why the dragons of the Dance get tamed in the way that they do. Seasmoke likes Addam because he's kin to Laenor, even without the Targaryen blood, there's enough Velaryon blood in the current Targaryens to make him familiar regardless. Sheepstealer and Nettles (should that happen at all like it did in Fire and Blood) just bonded the normal way, without the blood magic advantage. Generations later, Targaryen blood still yields an edge in interacting with Dany's dragons, but it's just that -- an advantage, not a requirement.

#hotd #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #this is just pure speculation but it's what makes the most sense to me #like yeah there's something to that ancient blood magic #but it's less like an inborn superiority and more like having a fingerprint lock on your fighter jet #if you can bypass the lock it doesn't really matter #long post

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reasonsforhope · 10 months ago

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Countries That Generate 100% Renewable Energy Electricity

Pictured: Hydropower is the most widely used source of renewable energy-generated electricity. This dam is located near Polson, Montana.

Is 100% Renewable Resource-Generated Electricity Possible?

"With concerns growing regarding burning fossil fuels and their connection to global warming, a great debate is occurring regarding the feasibility of producing electricity entirely from non-carbon emitting green renewable energy sources such as geothermal, hydroelectric, wind, and solar. Skeptics and naysayers claim that achieving such a goal is impractical, would destroy the economy, and is in the realm of pie-in-the-sky thinking.

But is it actually impractical and unattainable? The answer is clearly "no" since there are already several countries that generate 100% of the electricity they use from renewable sources of energy. There are also many other countries that obtain over 90% of the electricity they use from renewable energy sources. Despite the negative rhetoric by some, there’s nothing impractical about using renewable energy to generate electricity on a grand scale.

The Countries Leading the Way to a 100% Renewable Energy Electricity Future

The following is a list of countries that are leading the world into the new frontier of economies that run their electrical grids either entirely or nearly entirely on renewable energy per a 2018 report by the International Renewable Energy Association (IREA) and the U.S. Energy Information Administration (EIA) statistics. This list and the percentages are subject to change over time, but it provides a good snapshot of just how practical renewable energy currently is for electricity generation.

Iceland obtains 100% of the electricity it needs from renewable energy sources. Iceland is somewhat unique since volcanic activity on the island provides a significant geothermal energy source that is utilized to provide approximately one-quarter of the country’s electricity. The remaining three quarters are provided by hydro-power.

Paraguay obtains 100% of the electricity it uses from renewable sources. Huge hydropower dams provide all of Paraguay's electricity needs, as well as supply neighboring Argentina and Brazil with electricity.

Costa Rica is another country leading the way towards 100% renewable-produced electricity. During 2018, Costa Rica met all of its electricity needs using renewable energy sources such as hydro-power, geothermal, biomass, wind, and solar for 300 days in a row.

Ethiopia, Kenya, Namibia, Norway, Tajikistan, and Uruguay are countries currently generating greater than 90% of the electricity they use from renewable energy sources. Some of these countries are working towards running their electric networks entirely from renewable energy.

Some things stand out from the list of countries leading the way in electricity generated from renewable energy.

They are relatively small countries.

They have abundant renewable natural resources, particularly abundant water resources available to generate hydro-power.

The list includes both wealthy developed and poor developing countries.

The fact that both developed wealthy countries and poor developing countries are leaders in renewable energy-produced electricity indicates that the cost of constructing renewable energy resources is not a limiting factor. In fact, developing countries can justify the capital cost of building renewable energy sources of electricity due to the fact that the operating costs are relatively low and predictable (not subject to commodity price swings), and renewable energy allows a country to be self-sufficient in meeting its electricity needs.

Large Developed Countries Can Also Produce 100% Of Their Electricity From Renewable Energy

Critics and naysayers might say that while these achievements by small countries are impressive, implementing renewable energy on a large scale is impractical for larger developed countries. But is it really impractical?

Cost and technological barriers are not what they once were for renewable energy. In fact, costs for renewable energy continue to decline year after year, and renewable energy technologies continue to develop and become more efficient. Many countries have not even come close to tapping their renewable energy potential or even tried some of the technologies available, such as electricity generated by wave or tidal power. Additionally, the argument that renewable energy is only useful when it is being generated is becoming irrelevant since large utility-scale batteries are now available that have the capability to store electricity generated by renewable energy and allow it to be used when needed.

Clearly, the answer is yes. Large developed countries can produce 100% of the electricity they need from renewable sources. It is only a matter of the will and investment at this point to make the changeover from fossil fuel-generated electricity to renewable energy electricity generation. The technical barriers are not as great as naysayers claim, as proven by smaller countries that have already reached the 100% threshold. Moving towards 100% renewable energy sources of electricity will become easier over time as wind, solar, and other renewables become more efficient and large utility-scale battery storage technologies become capable of storing larger quantities of energy for use when needed.

Pictured: Researchers lay out a plan for nearly 140 countries that could be powered 100 percent by renewable energy by 2050. spectrum.ieee.org

The City of Los Angeles Leads the Way in the U.S. With Inexpensive Solar

Various forms of renewable energy have experienced significant cost reductions to a point at which they are competitive and, in some cases, cheaper than traditional electrical energy sources such as coal, oil, and natural gas. This cost reduction trend will accelerate the change over to renewable sources of electricity. For example, the City of Los Angeles signed a deal in July 2019 for a large solar electricity array that will provide 7% of the city's electricity by 2025 at only two cents per kilowatt-hour (kWh). This is far cheaper than fossil fuel-derived electricity.

In addition to being cost-competitive, the practicality and reliability of renewable energy are poised to make major advances as large utility-scale battery technologies are rolled out that can be used to capture renewable energy when it is created, so the electricity can be used at a later time when needed. The Los Angeles solar array project includes utility-scale battery backup at a cost of 1.3 cents per kWh, so the electricity generated by the sun will be available even when the sun is not shining.

Los Angeles has a goal of achieving 100% renewable electricity generation by 2050. This solar contract is a big step toward achieving their goal."

-via TurboFuture, February 21, 2023

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lilyrachelcassidy · 2 years ago

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Birthday Buzz

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

A/N: hi! loving your feedback and constructive criticism, so if you feel like sharing your opinion, feel free to do such! love ya

Summary: How birthday day can go in such a different way than initially planned.

Warnings: oh yes! language, some mild graphics (make-up lol), bitchy Pansy, and... have I mentioned language??

Word Count (bruh): 5.1k

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

No one would have convinced Y/N in the morning that what had just transpired was coming around, in such a slapdash rapidity as it had. Even so, with that clear-cut fact smacking her right across the face was it still so damn hard to believe that... that it was true.

She must be hallucinating. Or dreaming. Even the phenomenon of swines with the wings in the air would have been more feasible than... what was that exactly?

It all started with Y/N descending to the Great Hall, the walls woven with the luminant sunlight of the spring. Entering the room, humid and somewhat irksome (it was Monday, everything is irksome on Mondays, alright?), she instantly noticed a few details: McGonagall's new insipid hairstyle, the plate with her go-to breakfast already stowed in her regular sitting spot, Pansy’s huge grin tacked on her lips, and Blaise missing. The latest part surprised Y/N the most because she knew that Blaise would never skip a breakfast, and these were his usual hours of arriving; maybe he had already eaten?

Also, what’s the Pansy’s deal with smiling like a madman who overdosed on the crack?

What in the world...

“Haiya you!” Pansy scrambled to her feet, without giving Y/N a chance to query. “Guess what! Or no, you are so bullshit at guessing anyways... Slytherin is throwing a party today!”

The last part of her sentence came out in a feverish murmur, so that the Teachers’ Table wouldn’t overhear their conversation, and only loud enough for Y/N to hear. Still, her excitement was speaking volumes and Y/N wondered quickly whether Pansy really hadn’t dosed on a shot or two before the breakfast. Not that she wasn’t like that on a daily basis.

“What? It’s literally the beginning of the week.”

“But not every week does someone have a birthday!” As Pansy’s elation gently receded, was then Y/N able to finally to abscond herself at the table and munch on the already-prepared food. Upon seeing Y/N frowning, Pansy let out a shrill shriek which made a few people nearby glance crabwise at the two. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“About what?”

Another shriek followed. “Mattheo’s birthday!”

An awkward grimace popped on Y/N’s face, brows knitting together. “Well... if you haven’t noticed, we are not precisely on the friendly terms.”

Pansy made a fish-like O with her mouth, obviously about to say something appeasing, but the grunt next to Y/N interrupted. Promptly, she looked for the owner of the voice and was astonished to learn that the rest of their group was siding just next to her and Pansy, ostensibly listening to their exchange from the starters.

“Well, well... just look who has finally decided to acknowledge the rest of her friends. Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

She smirked. “No need to be so bitter, Theo. A few more years of practice and you may replace Snape in his disgruntlement.” A snort issued at the table and Y/N, complacent, grinned cheekily at Theo who only huffed. “Oh, don’t be like that, Theo, you know I love you.” Laying her head against his shoulder, she patted him at the top of his head. “There, there...”

“So... party you say,” spoke up Draco for the first time. He was chewing on his morning toast, evidently amused by the entire scene, but his eyes had a ghost of a question in them. Y/N already knew that this topic wasn’t going to slip by as easily. “Have you really forgotten about Mattheo?”

A smear of naked embarrassment splattered on Y/N’s cheeks. A part of her wanted to tell everyone to back off and just let her be, but at the same time, she knew she had blundered. It didn’t matter if they were close with Mattheo or not; they belonged to the same coterie, so it entangled some commitment. Even if that indicated associating with the bombastic entitlement of Mattheo for longer than the ideal time.

“Mhm... Yeah. You know. How was I supposed to know, really. We barely talk.” While saying so, Y/N made sure to perform the best glower she could pull off. She felt extremely petulant while doing so, but she wanted to fend for herself and not let anyone manoeuvre her into culpability.

“I told you about that, like two days ago!” Pansy had a distinct air of displeasure, as though personally offended by the occurrence. “I specifically highlighted ‘please, try to remember, it’s important’ and you said ‘fine’!”

“Well, I did not remember. And so, what? Don’t make such a big fuss about that. It’s not like he cares anyways,” Y/N said that with a nose in her breakfast plate, trying to avert the gaze from the rest, especially from Pansy who seemed to be at the brink of incredulity.

She should have remembered though. She should have.

Shit, shit, shit...

Theo grunted again. “It’s not the end of the world, Pansy, we only have to find a way to... make Y/N appear like she’s not an ignorant brat who forgot about her friend's birthday.” A beat. Theo peeked at Y/N goadingly, but she was already shooting daggers at him; that made him smirk. “She can pin her name on the present we got with Blaise.”

“Thank you, that’s really sweet,” said Y/N, making a U-turn and smiling gratefully at her friend. Gosh, she didn’t know what she would have done without this insolent arse. In order to take the limelight off herself, Y/N continued: “Why did you decide to organize the party so last-minute, anyways?”

“We didn’t know till now if we would be able to smuggle the booze,” said Draco through the half-full mouth.

“And how ar--”

“Don’t ask,” interjected Pansy with the look that explicitly indicated that Y/N wouldn’t like to know that piece of information. “Blaise is fixing everything.”

In response, Y/N merely nodded.

“So here is a deal,” Pansy continued after a beat. She lowered her timbre as if revealing a top-secret gossip to a bunch of nine-year-olds. “When Mattheo comes down, we are going to pretend like we don’t remember about his birthday. He is going to be sulking all day long and stuff-”

“Highly doubt th-”

“However.” If the looks could kill, Theo would be surely laying prostrate, French-kissing the floor. “At around...” She looked at her wristwatch. “8-ish, Y/N will ask Mattheo if he could help her out, at the same time hauling him to the Common Room. And that’s when all of us will jump out and hold a fucking “Surprise” banner right in front of his pretty face. Clear much?”

Y/N exhaled, with one nagging thought in her head. Why was she always the one to be arranged in such a setting with Mattheo? Her friends were acutely aware of the enmity between the two, yet they always impelled them to work together, both if it came to the school projects or even the group hangouts when everyone – beside her and Mattheo, obviously – would suddenly mingle out of the gathering last-minute.

As if sensing the ongoing dissension in Y/N’s head, Pansy critically eyed Y/N and furrowed, precisely addressing her concerns: “Something to add, Y/N?”

“No, I love the plan,” she replied quickly, after a moment of contemplation. “It’s that I’m not sure about the latest bit. I—I don’t know if he will accede, you know, with helping me out. We aren’t that friendly, so it may seem a tad suspicious that all of the sudden I’m asking him for a favour.”

No one said anything for a couple of seconds, but everyone seemed to be having the same hardwired thought as they threw each other the same bemused look, chewing the silence away. The tension of the message, so palpable it was, that it made Y/N snap out of the anticipation; she turned to Pansy, catching the waft of her strong double expresso, and then ogled each of her friends with an expectant eye.

“What?” Her tone seemed brusque, even to herself. “Why are you all acting so... meek? Is there something I don’t know about?” And then, the thought dawned at her: “Has Mattheo said something about me?”

Another round of chary looks followed, but before anyone was able to lodge a definite answer to the barrage of Y/N’s questions, the voice from behind echoed:

“Morning, everyone.”

Y/N whirled so abruptly, it almost cost her a whiplash, but when she saw the way Mattheo suited himself today, it most definitely caused her that whiplash. He was clad in a button-up shirt, the last couple of buttons undone and exposing the cleavage; his hair of the usual dark-brown curl was tumbling in its usual haphazard style and accentuating his prominent cheekbones; most definitely, the vague scar across his face did not make Y/N anyhow randy. Anyhow!

What struck Y/N the most, however, was the halo above his head – sunlight seeping through the Great Hall’s windows and highlighting Mattheo’s figure. The image was so angelic, so lofty, it suddenly caused the dryness in her throat. She thought she must be melting under those caramel-brown eyes like a humongous puddle of sweat and adoration.

No, she most definitely did not develop a crush on her frenemy, that couldn’t be right.

Y/N suddenly realized that she might be gawking, so she promptly returned to her previous position, all her aptitude to eat and breathe gone. Sidewise, she also noticed Pansy grinning knowingly at her, and when Y/N gave her an evil eye, she merely shrugged in a manner of “you know what I mean.”

Mattheo, instead of occupying his usual spot at the table, squeezed in between Y/N and some Slytherin second-year. Y/N had a vague impression that he was awaiting his friends to suddenly burst singing “Happy Birthday” or bestow him with wishes, because his lips were pressed in a thin line, and he was silently scooping the porridge from the ornamental bowl.

“So, what’s new, Mattheo?” asked Theo which felt so widely inappropriate that Y/N suddenly had an urge to boot him.

From this proximity, Y/N could perceive the brief flash of hurt across Mattheo’s features, but that was only for milliseconds. He plastered a sham smile on his face, and only tipped off with a short: “Not much.”

“We were actually talking,” started Pansy, carefully. “That Y/N needed some tutoring in Potions.” This time, Y/N seriously contemplated booting someone. Namely, Pansy. “Maybe you could help her, Mattheo? You are good at Potions, right?”

Dismissing Pansy’s last question, Mattheo finally eyed Y/N who was maxing out the redness of her face. She gave him a bashful smile. “Really? I thought you were good at Potions.”

The blankness overcame her. Y/N, clearly at whom the question was directed, tried to contrive a blatant lie but failing more and more as the seconds elapsed. Panic-stricken, she looked at Pansy who was witnessing the entire fall with a pained expression.

Shit.

“I-- I have a problem with this n-new topic. Something connected with Pepperup Potion,” she finally spluttered out, after what felt like forever. Once more, she glanced at Pansy who gave her the thumbs-up (that crone!), but she made the point of averting Mattheo’s gaze. “But sure, if you don’t want t--”

“No problem,” he broke off Y/N’s exhausted ramble. “Around 6-ish then?”

“Actually,” said Pansy. “Me and Y/N are headed to the Hogsmeade at that time. Girly things, you know. Maybe you can meet up, afterward, like 7-ish?”

“Mhm, yeah, why not. As long as it’s okay with Y/N.” He shortly looked at her but she, mortified, merely responded with a nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then!” Pansy exclaimed a coda with a sort of exuberance which, apparently, nobody else shared. And Y/N couldn’t help but think how interesting her one-to-one with Mattheo is going to be.

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXXOXO

Precisely two minutes before the appointed time, Y/N was at the foot of the library, taking in deep breaths.

She didn’t know why she felt so overwrought. She thought she must be overreacting. It’s not like her and Mattheo hadn’t been alone with each other before.

Rather, the opposite – they had been. Plenty of times.

The worst part was, or the funniest -- Y/N wasn’t sure in which terms she should regard that case – she constantly kept recollecting the same printed image of Mattheo from the morning. In his unbuttoned shirt, with that tousled hair which really gave him a look of a lead vocalist from the “Weird Sisters.” And the weirdest bit was that Y/N found that immensely attractive.

Maybe there was something wrong with her? Maybe it was her hormones butting in, her pre-period thirst for what’s been chucked by the universe? And again, why would the universe be afflicting her?

Deciding that she would probably not find any answers to those unabating thoughts, Y/N thought that there was no longer point of dangling in front of the entrance like some kind of mule. She pushed the door, treaded through a couple of book sections before finally localizing Mattheo with his usual cavalier aura. He was scribbling something rather intently on the piece of parchment in front of him, so much was he absorbed that he didn’t even flinch when Y/N strode over to the table.

She cleared her throat, announcing her presence. “Hey.”

He ultimately quirked up, and gosh was he so unbelievingly charming. Even after a day of meandering in the same clothes, he still made an impression of impeccable, and when his eyes met Y/N’s irresolute gaze, he smiled at her softly. Something flittered in Y/N’s stomach, and she only hoped that it was that sketchily-looking croissant that she had eaten.

“Hey,” he spoke in a stoic manner, simultaneously gesturing at the chair next to him. “Take a seat.”

And so she did; from that distance she could smell the scent of his cologne – cedarwood mixed with an enticing trace of bourbon. Damn him.

“Huh, so shall we start?” he asked as Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his face. “Or will you just keep staring?”

At once, Y/N tore her gaze away from his face, a blush blotching her cheeks; she felt positively mortified, warmth venturing from the chest to the nape of her neck. Well, it will take her some time to recover from that... “Yeah,” she laughed out, breathlessly. “Sorry.”

He merely shook his head, then plucked the course book from his satchel, and dragged it between the two of them. Without further ado, he commenced explaining the topic to her (“Pepperup Potion is quite a facile topic” Yeah, no shit, Flamel) in his calming voice, tracing his finger over the ingredients and elucidating their cruciality in finalization of the potion.

And while he was explaining all of that, composed and unbothered as if it were his daily lark, Y/N was on the other side of the spectrum – never had her body undergone something like that: her brain muddled, thoughts garbled, heart doing cartwheels whenever she looked up at Mattheo. She even noticed those little things about him, like the way his fingers smoothly flipped the pages, the way he pursed his lips whenever he was deeply immersed in his thoughts, or even that he had this sweet, little habit of raking his fingers through his hair.

Y/N, at the same time, absolutely detested herself for having those thoughts – superficial, distractive, unnecessary, delusory, egregious, and...

She was staring again and, from the peripheries of his vision, Mattheo had noted that because he was eyeing her again in the matter of seconds, clearly saying something but Y/N couldn’t string those words together. Only after a couple of seconds did she parse what he had asked.

“Yes, I’m fine...” she answered, swallowing the pit in her throat. Then, she inspected her watch – 7.47 -- and decided that it was a high time for them to bestir. “I’m just feeling... tired. Maybe we should get going, you know.”

Mattheo eyed her for a few more jiffs before finally nodding. Y/N had a dim impression that something in terms of acrimony flashed across his face for a split moment, but that was quickly gone, and he was already shoving his belongings into the satchel.

Once they were out in the corridor, Y/N started: “Thank you for your help, you know. That means a lot.” She thought it a good idea to pass over her gratitude by touching his shoulder but boy was she wrong. The reaction was immediate: Mattheo stiffened under her touch and, like a scalded cat, took a stride backward; his breath hitched and even in a dull lighting as it was, she could discern how his pupils dilated; he raked his hand over his hair like he had done before.

Y/N froze, halting just as he had. Not sure what else to do, because she hadn’t done anything wrong really, she simply waited how this debacle was going to progress; she could have anticipated many things -- him throwing cusses at her, him laughing the entire situation off, even him casting curses at her. What she hadn’t expected, however, was Mattheo suddenly rushing in a different direction than the Common Room and leaving her lingering in the spot, not able to process rapidity of the shebang.

Maybe she should have felt contrite at the moment, maybe she should have given up, and simply informed her friends that the plan clearly hadn’t worked out, and that Mattheo was a prick, leaving her hanging like some kind of scum in the middle of the corridor. But she would be lying to herself then and poorly attempting to talk herself into believing that she didn’t care.

Yet she did, that’s why Y/N suddenly felt like the blood was curdling within her. Without administering that the words were spewing out of her mouth, she was already shouting after him:

“What’s your problem?” Mattheo stopped in his track, not turning around nor snorting at her, but simply standing still. He was waiting for her to continue. “Every time we are supposed to hang out with each other, every time I try to initiate the conversation with you, every time I smile and you ignore me, every time... I try so hard to be nice to you, try to act... civil, at least in front of our friends. But you always bring me down.” She didn’t even fathom how she had come up to him, but here she was – standing in front of Mattheo Riddle and cannoning the grudges that she had been keeping for years at him. It felt so... emancipating. “Even that one time when I cooked the brownies for Christmas, especially for you, and later you gave them away to Blaise. You know how humiliated I felt? That I spent time doing something for you, and you... so carelessly dismissed that? And, and... by the way, how much of the psychopath do you have to be as not to like brownies, on Merlin’s Beard!”

Her voice sounded so reedy in her ears, but she knew that she was just poorly trying to outshout the quiver in her voice or the prickling tears in her eyes. When a tear tumbled down her cheek, not wanting to unveil any accompanying emotions, she angrily wiped it away with a sleeve. Her gaze travelled downwards because she felt more waterworks coming about.

“I realize that you might hate me bu-”

“I don’t,” interjected Mattheo. For the first time, he shifted in his spot and when Y/N scrutinized his countenance, his lines had a note of desperation in them, earnestness that clearly stressed the truthfulness of his words. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t have to lie, Mattheo, I-”

“I don’t hate you,” he retaliated, sounding stern. And angry, in a way? Y/N must have misheard.

“Listen, Mattheo, I appreciate you trying to patch things up, but there’s no poin-”

But her sentence spiralled into the distant corners of the corridor, and Y/N piped down as Mattheo took a step closer, curtailing the distance between the two. Y/N cast her face downwards under Mattheo’s intense stare, but his hand travelled to her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. His thumb swiped over her cheek where the tear stain was, and it seemed like he was contemplating her dejection with a sour expression. For a moment, Y/N could swear that the air in her lungs disappeared altogether, and she just kept waiting for his next move, her eyes turned into the deer-in-the-headlights expression.

With the intent look, he bent over her, Y/N’s nostrils catching the scent of his cologne yet again, and he was leaning over to her ear. One of his hands moved over to her arm, clutching it lightly as if she was the most exquisite dainty porcelain set, and his mouth was just centimetres away from her earlobe. Y/N’s body went entirely rigid.

“I. Don’t. Hate. You,” he spelled out every syllable of his sentence, gravely, gutturally, slowly.

Something clicked in Y/N. No longer was she standing there spellbound, but maybe because of his intoxicating scent, maybe because of the intensity with which he had uttered his words, she was tugging him by his collar with both of her hands. She normally, a brief thought crossed her mind, wouldn’t have enough nerve to do something like that, but she kissed him -- her desperate, parched mouth travelled onto his.

For a moment, she asked herself if maybe she might be out of her mind for doing that or if Mattheo felt the same way she had this morning, or if he had ever considered her as more then... well, whatever they were. She soon found out the answer, however, because his lips momentarily detached themselves from her skin, and he was scanning her face with dilated pupils.

Instantly, Y/N pulled away and put her hands on the level with her head in the defensive mode like a child who had been caught red-handed while sneaking out the chocolate bars. The air was sucked out of her.

“I’m so, so sor-”

“It’s not the way I envisaged that...” His voice sounded positively berserk, feral even. Her hands pending mid-air, Mattheo drew them back to their previous place. In the middle of that maelstrom, Mattheo capitalized Y/N’s confusion by placing his hands on her lower back, flipped her so that now her body was positioned against the wall, moulded against him.

“And how have you envisaged that, exactly?” she muttered, her voice barely audible. She blinked a couple of times, disorientated, observing as a smirk curved on Mattheo’s lips.

“Let me show you how...”

His lips smashed against hers, and Y/N was happy to note that her feelings were requited after all. At first it started off gentle, but that quickly morphed into this voracious battle for dominance. They were devouring into each other's taste (Mattheo’s peppermint toothpaste), and he slid his tongue over her bottom lip, silently soliciting her for deepening the kiss.

She permitted, of course she did, parting her lips ever so widely, deliberating that if she ever were to die, that’s probably the only way she would have accepted the Grim Reaper in her warm, hospitable embrace. Much to her surprise, Mattheo took her by both of her wrists, pinned them above her head while his other hand was caressing the skin underneath her shirt.

His kisses were so fierce and zealous, Y/N couldn’t help it but feel the sudden yearning to be as close to him as possible; she draped one of her legs around his lower waist, aligning his body with hers as if they were the unity. It felt like they belonged together the whole life, just like yin and yang, and it was so ludicrous that they hadn’t realized that before.

His tongue flicked over her lips a couple more times, making the want pool around her abdomen, before he finally dipped lower and lower, reaching her neck and planting the sloppy kisses on it. It was as if though he couldn’t get enough of her taste, so ardent in his actions he was, and when he finally discovered the weak spot on her neck, he started sucking on it ever so roughly. Not quite able to quell it, she let out a small moan which apparently must have worked marvels on Mattheo because Y/N could suddenly sense the bulge of erection ramming against her thigh.

She was torn. From one side, she wanted to do this so badly, the knot in her lower parts specifically betrayed that, but she knew that it would be so wrong and thorny if they elevated that to another level.

Yet, it was so hard to focus with Mattheo’s lips leeched to her neck, signaturing her skin in the most conspicuous way.

“Don’t... you think... that we sho...uld talk this over... first?” Y/N rasped out with an evident difficulty.

“What’s there to talk about?” he muttered in between the kisses, his hand still circling on Y/N’s belly and dangerously nearing to her bra. “I’ve wanted this since forever. And clearly, so did you.”

Y/N released an amused, hoarse chuckle but that silenced her only for a few seconds before she finally deciphered his words. Particularly, the one resonated in her mind: forever. A paroxysm of joy sprung up in her.

“So, you felt like that for a long time?”

Mattheo, apparently cognizing that Y/N wasn’t going to relinquish the topic easily, halted. He withdrew both of his hands, instead placing them on each side of the wall where Y/N was residing. His chest was still moving rapidly, hair rumpled, and pupils almost entirely replacing the irises of his eyes. As Y/N examined him briefly, she thought she must be out of her mind for ceasing their make-out in the first place.

Too late for reversion, anyways.

After a few inhales, he finally started: “Well, haven’t you noticed? This entire time, that I-” With a small gloss of hesitation, he looked her in the eyes, assiduously. “I have been crazy about you. For so long. I don’t even remember how it feels to be sane, because whenever I’m around you I just... want to grab you and kiss you senseless.”

Y/N balked. Things got another notch inexplicable, and Y/N wasn’t sure anymore if she was dreaming and perhaps was stuck in a different universe where cats were the heads of the Ministry, Pansy was Gryffindor, and Mattheo was besotted with her. That would be more possible, from all Y/N could think of.

“Really?” A blush suffused her cheeks. “I thought you hated me! All those signs – always avoiding me, never talking to me... This didn’t necessarily appear to me as... what you just said.”

“Listen.” His palm covered hers and he squeezed it lightly a couple of times. “All of that was just a game. I didn’t want to weird you out nor did I know if you reciprocated my feelings. That’s why I tried to... avoid you, if you will.” He stopped for a moment, just staring Y/N, enchanted, as if there was nothing else in the world, both of them captured in slow-motion where nothing else around them mattered. The silence between them was only raptured by their quick breathing and the hammering in their chests. “In truth, the way you... move and talk, it’s all driving me mad. Fuck! I want to be with you, be able to kiss you whenever I desire, want to touch you and be there for you whenever you feel down... Y/N, I want to do so many things with you, and you don’t even know that. But how could you, right?”

As if pained, he closed his eyes with a microscopic grimace and he licked his lips, as if reminiscing the tastes of her on his skin. With guilt flaring up, Y/N cupped his cheek in her palm and stroked over it again and again. He seemed to be enjoying that as he leaned into her touch, his frayed nerves somewhat tranquilized.

“You know, I like you too,” Y/N said, and before Mattheo was able to protest as he opened his mouth with the clear intention of doing so, Y/N proceeded: “I really do! It was just that... I was trying to tell myself otherwise because I wasn’t sure of how you would react. And when you waltzed into the Great Hall today, looking like that, I realized that... I’ve been lying to myself. And- and are you mad?”

He furrowed. “Mad? What for?”

“For screaming at you earlier.” Y/N pursed her lips.

Gently smiling, he smooched her lips shortly, and Y/N fleetingly missed the heat of his body on hers. “No, I was a dick.” Another smooch. “Although, I would specifically like to highlight that I didn’t give these cookies away to Blaise. He stole them.”

With poorly faked disapprobation, she shook her head but soon enough, a grin adorned her features. “That shithead.”

Mattheo chuckled and he was about to kiss Y/N again when...

“There you two are, I was looking all over for you two and--” Pansy prowled from around the corner, clearly with annoyance painted on her face but when she discerned the view right in front of her, with Y/N positioned against Mattheo, she smirked. “Well, well... Y/N, I told you to sneak him into the Common Room, not to woo him.” Y/N palm-faced herself but Pansy, not taking on the social hints, continued: “But have it your way, I guess...”

“Pansy, I think we would like to be left alone for now and if you could-”

“No,” Pansy interposed, folding her arms together. “It’s your birthday party, Mattheo! It was supposed to be a surprise, but someone...” She leered at Y/N with a pointed look. “...clearly can’t control themselves and restrain her animalistic instincts, irrespective of the plan that her other friends set up.”

“In her defence--”

“And I’m not going to be a shitty friend who forgets about her best friend’s birthday! So, collect yourself a little and schedule bumping uglies on a different time.” With that, the pitter-patter of her stilettos faded away, while both Mattheo and Y/N stood stunned in their spot.

“That’s not how I planned it,” Y/N explained quickly. “Especially the “bumping uglies” part.”

Mattheo chuckled with hilarity sparkling in his eyes. “I know.”

“And I’m sorry about your birthday, we were supposed to act like we have forgo-”

“Doesn’t matter.” Mattheo smiled finally at her, covering her mouth with his. “It’s still the best birthday I have ever had.”

#Mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #Benjamin Wadsworth #Benjamin Wadsworth x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #Hogwarts #Harry Potter #pansy Parkinson #Theodore Nott #Draco Malfoy #blaise zabini #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle fanfiction #hp #one-shot harry potter

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ao3cassandraic · 10 months ago

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As far as they can

At the end of the Job minisode, Crowley inaugurates Their Side by proclaiming Aziraphale "an angel who goes along with Heaven... as far as he can," parallel to his own stated relationship with Hell.

Only it... doesn't actually work that way. Their exactlies are different exactlies.

Crowley defies and lies to Hell as often as he thinks he can get away with it. He never disabuses Downstairs of their misconceptions about his contributions to human atrocities. He cheerfully lies in his reports Downstairs, something Aziraphale briefly turns on his Baritone of Sarcastic Disapproval about in s1. Crowley even turns evil homeopathic in the latter part of the 20th century, likely in hopes that it will look good to head office while accomplishing essentially nothing. (This, of course, is another way he Crowleys himself, both with the London phone system and the M25.) After Eden, Crowley's default given an assignment from Hell is to see how he can subvert it.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, defies Her and Heaven as little as he possibly can. Sometimes, as with his sword giveaway, his compassion gets the better of his anxiety. Sometimes, as with Job's children in the destruction of the villa, he can try to stay within the letter of the law by leaving the defiance to Crowley.

His default, however, is "'m 'nangel. I can't dis- diso -- not do what 'm told." This comes out most often as respect for the Great/Divine Plan, which to him is sacrosanct. He sounds quite sincere in s1 when he says "Even if I wanted to help I couldn’t. I can’t interfere with the Divine Plan."

Aziraphale quite frequently Good Angels along by parroting Heaven's party line, whether it's "it'll all be rather lovely" or "I am good, you (I'm afraid) are evil" or droning on about evil containing the seeds of its own destruction, or condemning Elspeth's graverobbing as "wicked" (a stance he offers absolutely no reasoned support for, no logic, no "but She said," not a word -- that's very Heaven; most of Heaven's angels have the approximate brainpower of paramecia). Maestro Michael Sheen even has a particular voice cadence -- I think of it as Sententious Voice -- he uses when Aziraphale is thoughtlessly party-lining.

When the angel's conscience wars with his sense of Heaven's orthodoxy but (and this is an important but) he can't feasibly resist whatever's wrong, he offers strengthless party-line justifications he clearly doesn't agree with (as with the "rain bow" in Mesopotamia) or resorts to a Nuremberg defense: "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley!" Once or twice, he's even vocally aware of Heavenly hypocrisy: "Unless… [guns]'re in the right hands, where they give weight to a moral argument… I think." This isn't Sententious Voice. It's I-can't-disobey-and-I-hate-that voice.

But at base, the angel prefers obedience (not least because it's vastly safer), and he'd rather have someone else do his moral reasoning for him. Honestly? Pretty relatable. I know lots of people like this -- hell's bells, I've been this person, though I grew out of it somewhat -- and I daresay you do too. Moral reasoning is hard and often lonely (since it can be read as self-righteousness or even hypocrisy) and acting as it dictates can hurt. Nobody would need ethics codes if The Right Thing was also invariably The Convenient Thing.

Many GO fans find these Aziraphalean traits frustrating! Especially his repeated returns to parroting Heaven orthodoxy! Sometimes I do too! (Not least because I'm rather protective of my own integrity, and it's cost me quite a few times. I'm well-known in professional circles for picking up a rhetorical spear and tilting at the nearest iniquitous windmill. I often lose, but I sure do keep tilting. Every once in a blue moon I actually win one.)

The key, I think, to giving our angel a little grace on this (beyond honoring the gentle compassion that is pretty basic to his character) is noticing how often he can be induced to abandon an unconsidered Heavenish default stance. As irritating as his default is, and as consistently as he returns to it, it's not really that hard to talk him out of it. Crowley, of course, is tremendously good at knocking Aziraphale away from his default -- he's had to be. But Aziraphale even manages to talk himself away from his default once, in the form of the Ineffable Plan hairsplitting at the airbase!

I think the character-relevant point of the Resurrectionist minisode is making this breaking-the-Heavenish-default dynamic as clear as the contents of the pickled-herring barrel aren't. "That's lunatic!" Crowley exclaims, when Aziraphale Sententious Voicedly parrots Heaven's garbage about poverty providing extra opportunities for goodness. Aziraphale isn't quite ready to let go yet, replying "It's ineffable."

But Dalrymple (who, I think, parallels Heaven, perhaps even the Metatron -- there could be something decent there, but it's buried too deep under scorn and clueless privilege for any graverobber-of-souls to dig it out) manages to break Aziraphale's orthodoxy by explaining the child's tumor.

Once released from his orthodoxy, Aziraphale can't be trusted to handle moral reasoning well; his moral-reasoning ability is not-uncommonly (though not always) portrayed as vitiated. When he gives Elspeth the go-ahead to dig up more bodies, his excuses are just as vacuous as they were when he was convinced of her wickedness. He knows that he's crossed Heaven's line, too, and just as at Eden it's worrying him. That's why he has to talk to Crowley to nerve himself up to help Wee Morag... only he spends too much time talking, and it's too late.

But Crowley can then talk him into bankrolling Elspeth toward a better life. Aziraphale doesn't even put up any fight, both because he's compassionate and because Crowley is temporarily taking the place of Heaven (he's even Heaven-sized and staring down at them!) as the angel's moral compass.

S1 has an even worse example of Aziraphale's moral wavering, actually. Crowley yells "Shoot him, Aziraphale!" and Aziraphale sure does try to murder Adam. Again, he's adopting his morals from the nearest (and loudest) convenient source. Madame Tracy, thankfully, has enough of a moral backbone to save our angel from himself and Crowley.

(With my ersatz-ethicist hat on: this is a fight between utilitarianism and deontology. Crowley is the utilitarian, which is actually a bit of a departure for him, but he's admittedly desperate. Madame Tracy is the deontologist: One Doesn't Kill Children. Aziraphale is caught in the middle.)

I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason we start s3 with Aziraphale and Crowley separated is so that Aziraphale finally has to do his own moral reasoning, without Crowley's nudges. I don't think it'll be easy for him. It will absolutely be lonely. And it may well hurt.

But I will watch for it, because it's how he will become his own angel, independent of Heaven and even of Crowley. And he must do that.

#good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #the resurrectionists #good omens s3 #s3 speculation #ethics #deontology #utilitarianism

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escapismmaxing · 7 months ago

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mudwing headcanons

(PLEASE click on her she is so beautiful to me and tumblr kills her with hammers)

physical traits

another huge tribe; longer than ice wings, shorter, but very bulky and muscle-y (think alligator)

alligator is pretty much the keystone of my design for them, and also their design is probably the most canon compliant one i have (said moments before i go against this)

i do like the idea of giving them thicker tails, more adjacent to seawings than any other land dwelling tribe, and also just leaning into the swampy aspect of them more

depending on how aquatic of an environment they’re incubated in (and also depending on parent’s genetics) a mudwing can hatch with fins! it’s not entirely uncommon (fins smaller than seawing fins)

mudwings can have tail fins, fins running down their stomach, and their neck. this is distinct from seawings as mudwings never have fins running down their spine or fins on their limbs

mudwings have HUGE horns and ears to siphon heat away from their face

they also have a throat sac like icewings! they produce a variety of throat song, mostly akin to various frog sounds

also,,, tusks protruding from their lower jaw! (that i just realized i forgor to draw,,,,) this is used for foraging, and also agriculture (tilling soil, etc) which mudwings are particularly proficient in

mudwings also tend to have ecosystems growing from them,, algae and duckweed etc on their backs, necks, and tops of heads which helps camouflage them

speaking of camouflage,, colors,,,, well you know

mudwings only being brown is actually the most boring concept i've ever heard 😭so they’re not! brown is still the most common, green is also very common, muted reds, oranges, and yellows as accents float around as well

culture <3 (social structure)

okay i actually love the SCRAPS of culture content we have of the mudwings

so i guess i want to start out with family structure and community,,,

the whole “breeding night” is so fucking funny to me,,, and it’s staying. i will keep it. i think this can also coexist with courting and mating and committing to another dragon singularly, and maybe all mudwing communities just consist of really complicated polycules

although parents aren’t always directly and singularly involved in the raising of their clutches, the adults still communally raise/look after the hatchlings, even if it’s somewhat from a distance

also, i think clutches know their parents and vice versa, even if there’s no special connection, you have to avoid incest somehow,,,,

so sib groups grow up together and rely on one another, like how it is in canon

if a bigwings egg is a “dud” and doesn’t hatch or is,,, abducted from the nest for the purpose of a false prophecy,,,, it’s actually really detrimental to the other eggs and can put them at risk to not hatch

clay’s sibs successfully hatching and growing up is,, a miracle im saying. the bigwings is the CRUX of everything. first to hatch, fastest to develop, grows the biggest, etc etc

i also think bigwings can produce fire at a slightly wider range of temperatures in order to keep their sibs warm if they’re ever under duress

on the topic of clutches and bigwings and,, everything

one egg clutches are considered crazy bad luck, and they need a lot of maintenance from an older dragon in order to actually hatch

if it’s feasible (like a clutch of a bigger size was laid on the same day) the single egg will be transplanted into that bigger clutch asap

also a similar feeling about 2 egg clutches, but it's not as bad

single and 2 egg clutches happen VERY frequently with hybrids, so often a hybrid will be in another sib group and all of their sibs go “yes they are us. oh they’re purple? they’re literally us what do you mean”

on the topic of hybrids, seawing and mudwing hybrids are insanely common, to the point where the majority of mudwings on that border are at least a liiiiitle bit seawing

there’s a lot of communal learning and passing down traditions in agriculture, farming, and animal rearing, and oftentimes a family farm is passed down from one sib group to another

(i don’t only make humble farmer mudwings though, there’s also a lot of artisans, scholars, the equivalent of dragon environmentalists, etc)

so moving away from family groups and stuff,,,,, onto wider society, let’s start with the royal family

mudwings pass the crown down from eldest daughter to eldest daughter, through a “royal” line

basically, one group of sibs has the crown, then the oldest/first clutch will be promised the crown, but it can very easily be abdicated and passed to a different clutch if the oldest clutch doesn’t want it or seems not fit to rule

there’s not a lot of competition for the crown because sib groups rule together, and the queen position really doesn’t mean anything, at most acting as a tiebreaker

obviously, sibs never fight sibs for the crown. that’s like speed running a revolution from the mudwing commoner population. but also, cousins don’t tend to fight either because of this strong wider communal feeling

fashion, jewelry,,

i think mudwings don’t have a lot of fashion/accessories because of how swampy and wet their environment is. royals will have jewels embedded into their scales (like moorhen) but even this requires somewhat regular cleaning to actually look,, pretty and shiny? so it’s not common

other jewelry consists of tight bands of wood and clay around horns, clay earrings, rings and armbands

clay jewelry is especially common! including clay beads that represents their sibs

clay fired earrings, strings of clay beads draped across the body, etc is commonly found

jobs! (and also a rant on cuisine apparently)

briefly touched on earlier, idk how much expanding i’ll do here tbh

farming is pretty common, crops including rice, cranberries, watercress, taro, water spinach, water chestnuts,,,, you get the point. there’s a lot of crops to be grown and mudwings grow them!

not in monocultures though, there’s a lot of mixing of crops on the same farmland

also with farmers, animals are raised! but closer to the less swampy edges of the kingdom

they’re still partially wild honestly, but mudwings rear cows and boars very commonly

so much of mudwing economy revolves around food, so they have a very robust cuisine, and they grow/trade for a lot of spices and herbs (with the skywings) and they have a lot of practices surrounding food/sharing of food being sacred

oh god.,,,, the tangent is taking over,, im so sorry

marriage!! i think when mudwings want to get married there’s a long string of cooking for one another!! back and forth making beautiful dishes for one another until they make a beautiful dish TOGETHER. god i love them

aside from farmers, a lot of mudwings are artists! they carve wood and make clay sculptures and jewelry as well as weave baskets and jewelry and thatched roofs from fronds and other wide-leafed plants

pottery is also common

tanners make leather from cow and boar hide, and bookbinders make books (after contact with pantala) and trade with sandwings for dried parchment

also butchers, cheesemakers (cows milk)

as well, the typical circle of scholars and nobles that keep rigorous records on the queendom’s history

and of course, royal diplomats

religions/superstitions

less superstitious than icewings perhaps,, but i do think they have some shared beliefs

perhaps just in a “mother earth” “all mother” type of concept? a dragon that gave them swamps, and then all other life came from swamps, etc

of course, the egg superstitions from earlier

there’s a lot of superstitions/outright magic about sharing food and the etiquette around sharing food

oh, one of you dropped your utensil while eating? in the future you’re going to save each other from mortal danger

someone gifting dishware is considered a proposal,, but it can be platonic or romantic

the monarch spilled their drink? the rainy season will be rainier this year

just a lot of really niche things

yoppee, i love mudwings so much. i think there is so much untapped potential and what we have now is beautiful. love drawing them, love their color palettes, love their sib groups. yeah not much else to say here. as always, send a dm or an ask if you want to know about something further!

#wof #wof mudwing #wof art #wof worldbuilding #wof redesign #wof rewrite #wings of fire #wingsoffire #wings of fire fanart #wof fanart

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alpaca-clouds · 3 months ago

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Public Transport COULD Be Great

Americans visiting Europe, especially those more left-leaning Americans, will always be so impressed when it comes to our public transport. And it does not matter where they visit here. Netherlands? "Amazing Public Transport!" France? "Amazing!" Germany? "Amazing!" Even in the UK they will be impressed.

And I kinda get it. While once upon a time the US made a conserted effort to get people moving via train, that has been almost two centuries ago and by now they just decided that people having cars is making more companies more money, so who needs cheap public transport? And while I personally actually kinda liked the public transport on the east coast while I was visiting the US... Yeah, I am well aware that the east coast (especially the area between New York City and DC) is not quite representative for the US.

However, here is the thing: If you ask most Europeans about their public transport... Well, we'll complain as well.

Because they fucking ruined it!

See, here is the issue, in a lot of parts in Europe, at some point or another the government privatized some or all of the public transport. This hit some countries like the UK especially hard, but Germany was hit also quite a lot.

Because of that a lot of things happened that happened when you try to use capitalist logic onto something that cannot work under capitalism.

For example a lot of rails have been removed in areas where it was not "cost efficient" to run trains. Or if they have not been removed, they are at least no longer used. In Germany you will find that in the area where I am living (North-Rhine-Westfelia) we have somewhat good running public transport. Meanwhile a friend of mine is living in former East Germany. And something you gotta understand about former East Germany: After the reunification a lot of people from East Germany tried to move away from there, thinking they would do better in "West Germany". So you will find a lot of mostly empty villages and towns there. And you know what does not pay under capitalism? Right: Running trains to fairly depopulated villages and towns. So... This friend is forced to use a car all the time. Because the next train station that is actually still in use is 45 minutes by car away.

Sure, technically there is a bus running through her village... It comes 3 times a day mondays to fridays, 2 times a day on Saturday and not at all on Sunday. Also to reach the aforementioned train station, the bus connection would take her almost two hours.

Now mind you: There is a train station about 10 minutes by car from her. But that one has not been in use for almost 20 years. Because, again: It just does not pay. It is not profitable for the company, so it is no longer in use.

And here we get to the issue: Public transport is an amazing thing... But we see again and again, that it really only works in those cases where it is state-run and paid for with taxes. As soon as it is privatized it will just not work. Because, well... In general public transport really is not a thing that will be paying for itself. It is fairly expensive, and to keep it profitable you need to keep raising the prices. (As a German: Believe me, I know!)

Not to mention that company policies will lead to weird stuff happening with the trains. Here in Germany? Well, the biggest train company (that is kinda partly state-owned, but not state-run, so it is run under capitalist ideas) has promised their investors that the trains will not be as delayed as before. But given the piss-poor state in which the rail network is, this is just not feasible. So, what will they do? Simple! If a train gets too delayed they will just cancel it. Will that fuck everyone travelling over way more than letting the train delay for 20 minutes? Yeah. But they do not care. They only care about the investors.

And this is the general issue.

For public transit to work, you need to design the transit network to serve the people - and not to make money. Because it does not matter that there are only some old people left in some depopulated little town in eastern Germany or western England... Those old people deserve to be able to get from their depopulated little town to the next big shopping center and cultural center as well.

As long as you do not design the stuff with those people in mind...

Sure, it is better than no public transport. But it still sucks.

#solarpunk #anarchism #communism #anti capitalism #trains #railroad #trains are awesome #busses #public transport

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m1ckeyb3rry · 5 months ago

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CONGRATS ON 500 FOLLOWERS WOOO!! its been a little over a year since ive found your writting, how time flies T-T Could you possibly write a platonic gojo & reader oneshot where its just snippets of Gojo's first year teaching and the reader is a 1st year student not part of jujutsu society? I'd prefer if the mc had a somewhat introverted personality while being grumpy bc of being forced to attend the school. U can change their behaviour to what u feel more comfortable writing if u want tho!!

── THE SCHOLAR

Synopsis: A short snippet of how Satoru Gojo convinces you to be his first student in full.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo & Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2.6k

Content Warnings: not many tbh…reader is a d1 hater of gojo and ino ig?? also just a hater in general LMAO she does NOT want to be there

A/N: wow anon i can’t believe it’s been a year since you found my account and that you’ve stuck around for so long, that means a lot to me!! i apologize for how long this took me and how short it is 😫 it was a bit difficult for me to write gojo as a teacher without feeling like i was just rehashing his dynamic w a previous y/n i’ve written 😓 but i hope this is somewhat close to what you wanted?? also idk if you’ve read my fic pomegranate ink or not but i did throw in a reference to it at one point so props to anyone who catches that hehe

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

You weren’t really sure what cause your classmate had to be as pleased as he was, but for some reason, the boy was bouncing in his seat, scribbling down notes with the fervor of a scholar — though you were quite certain that he was nothing of the sort, at least not when his test scores were taken into consideration.

“Hey,” you whispered, tossing an eraser at his head when your teacher’s back was turned. “Ino. What’s the big deal? We’re not even learning anything yet, so what are you writing down?”

“Are you kidding me? Gojo just told us an entire story of his past. That’s valuable information!” Ino said. You frowned at him.

“It’s not valuable information, because he’s so prone to embellishment that he’s all but an author at this point. Besides, do you think you, or anyone else for that matter, will ever face seven first grades and come out the winner, without even a scratch?” you said.

“He’s the strongest sorcerer in the world, though, so it’s feasible for him,” Ino said.

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Maybe for him, but not for anyone else. This is just bragging under the guise of an educational opportunity. We’re never going to be powerful enough to replicate such a feat, so what’s the use in wasting our time talking about it?”

“You’re such a spoil-sport,” Ino huffed. “We’re the first students to ever get to learn from Satoru Gojo, and somehow, you’re complaining about it? That’s ridiculous no matter what way you put it!”

“Is everything okay?”

Both you and Ino jumped as Satoru Gojo appeared in front of your desks, peering down at you over the lenses of his dark glasses. He didn’t seem annoyed that you were talking while he was ‘teaching’; in fact, he looked excited, as if he wanted to join in the conversation as well. You could imagine him pulling up a chair and resting his chin in his hands as he gossiped with you, and it made you scoff.

“Everything’s fine. We were just wondering when you were actually going to start the lesson,” you said.

“She was wondering that!” Ino rushed to clarify. You shot him a dirty look out of the corner of your eye, which he ignored — you supposed loyalty didn’t mean much to him, as you two weren’t really friends and therefore couldn’t inspire much loyalty in one another regardless. “I was telling her how fascinated I am by the story you were telling!”

“Suck-up,” you hissed.

“Stupid,” he hissed back. Gojo clapped his hands, returning to the front of the classroom with a distinctly unacademic swagger to his step that made you internally fume.

“No worries, we’re just getting to that part! Today, we’ll go over some basic curse theory,” he said, drawing simplistic shapes on the chalkboard to accompany his explanations. As usual, Ino was absorbed by the standard bullshit Gojo spouted, but you found it to be so boring that you actually began to nod off, catching up on the sleep you had missed last night due to a mission which had run later than expected.

Unlike Ino, who had been automatically enrolled in the school because of his family lineage, you had been scouted as a fresh talent by Satoru Gojo himself. It had been a long conversation, and he had only managed to convince you in the end by telling you all about Kaito Hinode, the well-regarded first year teacher who you would study under. Hinode was a sorcerer you believed you wouldn’t have trouble respecting, and so you begrudgingly agreed to attend the school and give the whole notion of ‘jujutsu sorcery’ a shot.

Then Hinode retired, mere weeks before you were set to begin at the school, and his replacement was revealed to be none other than that irreverent, inept, and decidedly unserious man who you had secretly hoped you would not see much more of: Satoru Gojo.

You didn’t even want to be a sorcerer in active duty, but the theoretical side of it interested you to an almost unhealthy extent. You spent days upon days studying the workings of curses and cursed energy, to the point that you could be considered almost an expert. That was the only thing cheering you about coming to the school, that you’d get to discuss with individuals on your level, and so it had been such a heartbreaking disappointment when Gojo, who cared little about the causes and more about the results, was the only proper sorcerer you came into frequent contact with.

The other teachers didn’t have time to entertain your pestering, far too busy with their own students, which meant that Gojo was really your only option. And of course you had tried — really, you had. You had presented him with your questions and ideas, but he had only made a face and told you that studying curse theory to this extent wouldn’t help anyone, and least of all yourself.

He wanted you to learn how to fight, but you didn’t care for that. You didn’t want to fight. If you could spend the rest of your days shut away in a study, reading your books and taking notes on them, then you’d be quite content. You were reluctant to go on missions, even if you were ten times better than your peers, and you often dragged your feet heading into your practical classes. More than once, Ino had had to hoist you over his shoulders and sprint to the training field so that you were not both late, and you knew that you probably shouldn’t be so harsh on him given that, but because it meant that you had to exert yourself on the battlefield instead of rereading your favorite essays, his good intentions only made you resent him more.

“You know, you could really be a great sorcerer,” Gojo said to you one day. You were sitting on a bench while Ino did exercises, ink smudging your hand as you meticulously annotated a book that the principal had given to you. You blinked up at him, amazed once again at how tall he was. He blocked out the sunlight, his shadow looming over you in a way that would’ve been ominous if he wasn’t so typically harmless.

“Hm?” you said, returning to your book when you realized he wasn’t going to say anything of importance. “Sure, I guess I could be.”

“Becoming a first grade isn’t an impossibility for you. It’s something attainable, which is incredibly rare for someone as young as you,” he continued.

“Right,” you said.

“Do you care about that, though?” he said.

“Nope,” you said. “I have no interest in being a first grade sorcerer. It just means more dangerous missions, doesn’t it? I don’t care about all of that.”

“It also means a higher salary,” he said.

“Probably not high enough to make up for the risks,” you said.

“Well, it’s pretty high, though only you can decide if it makes up for the risks or not,” he said.

“Listen, sir, I’m only even here because you told me I could further my studies with people renowned in their fields. Do you mind telling me what field you’re renowned in? Because for some unfathomable reason, you’ve ended up as my teacher,” you said.

“I’m…the strongest sorcerer? In the world?” he said, though the way he phrased it made it seem like he was asking you instead of telling. You shrugged.

“That’s an intrinsic talent. You didn’t learn to be that way; you were just born with it. Sure, you had to practice, but practicing and studying are different. Anyways, even if you are the strongest soldier, I think we’ve established that that’s not something I’m interested in. I was supposed to be under the tutelage of wise and experienced professors, but instead, I’m being instructed by you, who’s barely even a few years my elder and has never taught before,” you said, closing your book and holding it to your chest, smiling tightly at him. “I’m staying here because my parents already paid the tuition fee, but I’m not happy about it. Just so you know.”

“If you’re a first grade sorcerer, you also get more access to information,” he said after a moment. “Stuff behind a million clearances that only people of a sufficiently high rank get access to.”

You froze, your eyes brightening at the thought of this forbidden knowledge. You already knew that you were missing several key pieces in your preliminary research, but no matter how hard you looked, you had never been able to find the answers to the seemingly obvious questions. Was this why? Was it really because you did not have the seniority to warrant the understanding?

“Is that truly the case?” you said.

“I can’t help you in terms of books and learning and all of that boring stuff,” he said. “But if you put in a bit more effort, I can turn you into someone that the higher ups listen to, instead of the other way around.”

You mulled this over before nodding, standing up and leaving your book on the bench.

“Okay. I’ll do as you tell me to, but like I said earlier, I’m not going to be happy about it,” he said.

“Who cares? You can be the gloomiest girl alive!” he said, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Let’s work together, Y/N!”

“I’m your student,” you reminded him. “Not your friend.”

He waved you off. “You’re old enough to be both. Now let’s get to training!”

It was horrible, being Gojo’s favorite student. For one, Ino was jealous — although soon enough he found another mentor to cotton on to, and then your relationship with him mended into something a little more cordial and polite. For another, Gojo had this strange penchant for throwing you into impossible situations and watching in glee as you struggled to get out of them.

His missions also tended to be errands disguised as pressing matters. Once, he made you run around Tokyo, stopping in various stores so that you could improve your conditioning — stores which just so happened to carry the items on his week’s grocery list. Another time, you single-handedly had to exorcise every single curse harassing a nearby bakery — a bakery which just so happened to carry a specialty flavor of cake that was his new favorite. Whenever you complained about the silly chores, he asked if the exercise had made you stronger or not. You would begrudgingly admit that it had, and then he’d tell you that you should just think of it as a win-win scenario and stop whining.

“Y/N!” That was how it always began: he would shout your name as he entered the classroom, usually accompanying it with a wad of paper or some other, similarly harmless object sent flying your way. You’d catch it in one hand and glare at him.

“What?” This would prompt him to explain his ridiculous plan for the day, after which he would turn to Ino and hand him his assignments. He had gotten special permission from the school to train you in this non-orthodox manner, given that you were so far ahead in any material that giving you homework would be redundant and a waste of time for all parties involved. For his part, Ino did not complain, for he had long ago lost interest in training with Gojo, who was admittedly terrible at actually explaining anything of note.

You made a good pair, you and Gojo, or at least as good of a pair as could be made given the circumstances. As the year went on, you grew more and more familiar with the reasoning behind his atypical style, and though you would never cease to complain, it was more lighthearted, a habit instead of a genuine gripe.

“You’ll be promoted any day now,” Gojo told you on the last day of your first year — the last day that he would be your director supervisor. “They’re waiting for you to grow a bit older, but it’s maturity you lack, not talent. If you participate in the Exchange Event next year, you’ll get the recommendations you need without a problem.”

“If?” you said, picking up on what he had left unsaid. “Isn’t it mandatory? Why wouldn’t I participate?”

“It’s mandatory if you’re living on campus, yes,” he said.

“And what cause would I have to not be living on campus?” you said.

“You’re interested in curse theory, aren’t you?” he said. When you nodded, he sighed. “Still? I was hoping you’d have moved on by now…well, I can get an alternate course of study approved for you by the principal, if you want.”

“An alternate course? What would that entail?” you said.

“One of my fellow special grade sorcerers, Yuki Tsukumo, specializes in researching the exact types of things you find so fascinating. If she agrees to it, then you could serve as an assistant of sorts to her. It’ll be like an internship or something. She won’t let you slack off — it’ll be much worse than anything I put you through, that’s for certain — but if that’s the path you want to take, then it’s an option,” he said.

You had never loved him quite as much as you did in that moment. Without even taking a moment to think about it, you nodded enthusiastically, beaming at him.

“Yes! Yes, Gojo, sir, that would be ideal. I’ve read some of the proposals Tsukumo’s submitted to the higher ups, and oh, if I got to work with her, it would be such a dream,” you said.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he said. “She still has to agree to it.”

“Do you think she’ll say no?” you said.

“Maybe at first,” he said. “After she meets you, though? No way. You’re my pupil, after all. You’ll be the most impressive student she’s ever taken under her wing — and I can attest to the fact that you’ll be far and away the most dedicated.”

You supposed you had some things to thank him for, then. The corners of your lips twitched as you bowed your head at him, causing him to grunt in confusion; after all, you had never shown him such deference before.

“You’re not that bad as a teacher,” you said. “You know, for it being your first time, I think you did alright.”

“Yeah?” he said eagerly before composing himself, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Yeah, I guess you turned out just fine.”

“Thank you for everything, Gojo,” you said. “Please know that you’ll always have an ally in me.”

His black sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, just a bit, but enough that you could see the way his eyes softened ever so slightly. Then he reached out and socked you in the arm affectionately.

“Considering how often I butt heads with the higher ups, I might call upon you one day,” he said. “Don’t make that kind of promise lightly, is what I’m saying.”

“I’m not making it lightly,” you said. “If you call upon me, I’ll come. That’s what you do for someone who’s changed your life, right?”

Even the shades he had shoved back into position could not hide the breadth of his smile nor the depth of his fondness. He nodded, slowly at first and then quickly, like he wanted you to be very sure of his agreement.

“True,” he said, and then he patted you on the head. “Guess that means you can call on me whenever you want, too. I’ll be there.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder as you left for the summer and thought that you might never be so fortunate — or unfortunate — as to have a teacher quite like him again.

#gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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princess-of-the-corner · 1 month ago

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So I've been having thoughts on developing a proper Rogues Gallery for miraculous. This is going to be long and a little convoluted, I apologize in advance.

The first thing I was thinking about was how there is something of a civilian rogues gallery that already exists. As in, threats Marinette and Adrien regularly has to deal with, but not Ladybug and Chat Noir. These people include Bob Roth, Roger, Andre/Audrey, pre-redemption Chloe, Lila, Felix depending on the day, and occasionally less maligned but incompetent adults like the principal or Bustier. Due to the nature of ML, these are also some of the more frequent targets of akumatization. Gabe and Nathalie can actually also fall on this list, since they manage to be plenty problematic even when it's not part of an evil scheme.

So the issue lies in creating a separate superpowered Rogues Gallery that threatens LB and CN as heroes but not so much as civilians. Like, there's going to be overlap, but a lot of what, Bob Roth for example, does pre-akumatization had little to no bearing on the superhero shenanigans. So there needs to be some villains that do the reverse.

To use a Spider-Man analogy, they have their Flash Thompsons and their JJJs and even their Eddie Brocks/Venoms in the form of Lila, but they don't have, like, a Doc Ock or a Vulture or the rest of the Sinister 6, who don't really give a shit about Peter Parker.

So my next thought was, "what's the path of least resistance to creating a group of consistently present superpowered villains that don't really care about Marinette or Adrien?" And my answer to that was just take some existing akumas and revamp the butterfly powers a bit to make them stick around.

There's already Mr. Pigeon as a non-serious silly threat. I think keeping Stormy Weather, who's a pretty badass akuma and who's akumatization has literally nothing to do with Team Miraculous is a good one, but I'm unsure why Auroré would keep working with HM. Rogercop could be good. He tends to get akumatized because of Team Miraculous, but Roger is also kinda just an asshole, so I feel like there could be other reasons for it. I like the idea of keeping Simon Says too, as a villain that Gabe doesn't have a whole lot of control over, although why Gabe would repeatedly give him powers is a big question, and he's also a bit too sweet to just be villainous on his own. Darkblade could work for another silly one that's somewhat more threatening than Mr. Pigeon, and is also enough of an asshole/weirdo to regularly justify repeated akumatization. I also kinda want Copycat or a variant thereof, as someone who specifically has issues with LB or CN and isn't named Lila. But I'd love to hear your thoughts on who you'd add to the list. Like, I know they smoothed things over with him in canon and in HC, but I'm having trouble thinking of anyone else who has LB or CN related beef.

The main thing I haven't really worked out is how to revamp the butterly powers to make this feasible. My tenuous idea is that instead of like, directly empowering and lowkey mind controlling the akumatized villain in a weird kind of contract situation, the butterfly user just gives them a store of power they can draw on periodically with the power of their emotions. So like, if canon gives you a power that you can use infinitely, but only while being directly controlled by the Butterfly user, this version would give you, like 10 shots before you ran out of power and the Butterfly would have to empower you again. But the stronger your emotions, the more shots you get, or something like that. But that would require an emotionally charged villain to have the foresight to save their shots up for a later date, so IDK if this would actually work.

Thoughts?

Yeah I think my main thought is on the how/why they stay Villains and hm.

I think my thought on it would be the idea of something going 'wrong' in a way?

Maybe this could replace the thing of what happens when Ladybug doesn't Purify the Butterfly. Instead of Hawkmoth being able to make copies, the person just stays in their Akumatized state but is no longer controlled by Hawkmoth.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year ago

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Do you think it is possible to adapt the events of Twisted Wonderland for manga someday?

As much as I’d personally love for the event stories to be adapted into a full-blown manga, I really don’t think it’s feasible outside of maybe one-off specials (similar to the anthology comic) or references (like how the Episode of Heartslabyul features Master Chef Riddle as he’s making an apology tart). There are many reasons for this (these also apply for why I don’t think vignettes would be fully adapted into “full” manga):

Firstly, event stories are purposefully limited time in the game; this is to induce FOMO (fear of missing out) and creates a psychological incentive to get in on the hype while the associated story and banners are available. This time exclusivity does not “translate” well into manga, which can be consumed at a far steadier pace.

To add to the last point, TWST is constantly coming out with new events, and at a rate far faster than the main story releases, even if each event is typically short in length. This means a hypothetical event manga may never be able to “keep up” with the new content (assuming the manga’s pace is 1 new chapter per month), unlike the main story which gets far larger gaps of time between major updates. If TWST were to start an event manga at this point, they already have 20ish events and counting to adapt compared to 7 books of the main story (and that’s not even counting minor ones like Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles) 💦

When you really think about it… not a lot actually happens in some events, which wouldn’t make them that exciting to read??? This is most noticeable in hometown events where the bulk of what happens is the characters going around and eating the local foods. Once we have that trivia the first time (via the game), it loses some of its impact in another format.

The stakes are not high enough (most of the time) to warrant dedicating entire volumes to a single event and resolving its conflict. (The main exceptions to this would be the Halloween events.)

There could be some confusion associated with timelines and/or could spoil the main story for som people. For example, events like Fairy Gala: What If have some ties to the ending of book 6.

Lastly… what would we do about the Yuus? The manga adaptation introduces a new Yuu for every main story episode; is there supposed to be a new Yuu for each event…? Do we bring back the manga!Yuus and distribute them among the events? But then what’s really the point when Yuu’s role is greatly diminished in the majority of events??? (Again, this is most notable whenever they visit a new area; Yuu just randomly pops up to each group of students and says/does nothing of note before walking away again. They typically also do not contribute to the resolution, whereas you can at least say Yuu is somewhat involved in the main story.)

As I said at the beginning of this post, I think the events being relegated to short anthology chapters and/or cameos in the main manga, as these formats would resolve many of the issues I identified for a “full” event manga. The anthology chapters thus far do not feature Yuu and instead focus on the boys, and the chapters are short enough that it can cover multiple events in the span of one volume. The cameos would also allow for event outfits to appear without the focus shifting so much into events where not a lot may happen story-wise. Those are my thoughts! 💭

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst manga #twisted wonderland manga #notes from the writing raven #question #episode of heartslabyul #episode of heartslabyul manga #Riddle Rosehearts

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argentsunshine · 5 months ago

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have you posted about your characterization of Joker? i really like your takes about him and would love if it were explained, but understand if not

i don't think i've posted about it explicitly beyond writing fics and comics, but i do think about it a lot

i acknowledge that everyone picks different options for their akira(/ren, i'll be calling him akira here in case i have to differentiate between his real world and metaverse personas), but imo there are way more basic facts about akira that are the same regardless of what dialogue options you pick than people act like there are

he's quiet

he's not really a silent protagonist unless you're incredibly broad with the term, but he still isn't exactly the most talkative guy. you may be saying mr argent sunshine, this is obvious, why are you bothering to state this. well you see i often joke that i have a test where i back out of a fanfic if anyone describes akira as "loud", "talkative", or anything else to that effect. i have seen this so often and it drives me insane. especially when people portray him as like, a quirky hyperactive ditz constantly saying stupid shit...? people can be funny while saying very few words, guys. (sometimes it's even funnier to say less. wild concept.)

also, while the doylist purpose of his quietness is obvious - making the player pick a line every other sentence would get annoying and would force them to write and record way more dialogue to account for all the responses - i think it's interesting to examine from a watsonian perspective. was he always quiet, or is it a mask in the same way as the glasses are? i personally imagine him always being on the quiet side, but it's a space you could play in.

2. caring so deeply about everyone and everything all the time

this to me is the real core of akira's character. the defining moment of his whole deal to me is the one-two punch of him saving a woman he didn't know and losing everything for it, and, when arsene asks, him saying doing that was not a mistake, i'd do it again if i had to, even though the woman he was trying to save turned around and lied to the police, resulting in his arrest. he comforts ann when they barely know each other, he awakens to arsene in the first place while trying to protect ryuji, who he's known for all of ten minutes. yes, he loves his friends and found family dearly (and i'm sure when i started talking about things that are true no matter what option you pick someone went "oh like how akechi will still be akira's wish in maruki's reality no matter what you do", yeah, that too) but he's also ready to throw himself into harm's way for the sake of people he's never met.

(if someone wants my full rant on this point ask me about sojiro akira parallels but a side point to this is that he's deeply unselfish, to a level that may not be healthy in the long run. he just so happens to have gotten the exact magic powers to make his heroics feasible. i'm just saying, without getting persona powers he still would have managed to draw kamoshida's anger, and he would have been expelled and probably gone to juvie! but he still would have done it because he can't just look away.)

3. oh god i don't want this to turn into a whole full rant so now i have to pick one last point then shut up. oh god oh fuck. i could talk about akira forever but nobody wants to sit through that. let's talk about masks.

i don't think of joker as The Real Akira as much as his metaverse appearance is another facet of him. looking at him from another angle. i think his flair for the dramatic is fun and i love him, but i also think the concept of theatrics and illusion and trickery (ha) being built so deep into him is very important. even though it's always for the greater good, he does tell people what they want to hear a lot (off the top of my head, maybe 1/3 to 1/2 of his non-PT confidants are at least somewhat based on false pretenses right from the start, even if they make him come clean in the end, and a lot of the rest involve akira being exactly who the person needs him to be.) you could argue that akira's always pretending to literally everyone fully all the time (I don't think this is true; i think he obscures parts of himself to make himself more useful or palatable to others, but i think arguing his connections are inauthentic is a) edgelord bullshit or, more commonly, shipper brain if they're arguing only one connection is authentic b) just not consistent with the way people work. i'm personally of the opinion that we're all always presenting tailored versions of ourselves to everyone around us - i'm ruder around my friends but kinder around my parents; openly ramble about my interests to my online friends but tend to keep a lid on them irl - these don't make some of my connections fake, it's just a difference in the facets people see. i don't think akira's tendecy to present different masks around different people is neccasarily the best way to go about life (in that i think it Will lead to an identity crisis inevitably) but it's definitely A Thing!

i lost track of what i was saying at the end there so i'll stop talking

#bold move asking ME to talk about akira kurusu

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izvmimi · 2 years ago

Text

a/n: not me butting into other people's aus but i love @strawberrystepmom's kakashi x reader au so much!!!

cw: alcohol mention. reader is at brunch with a friend (oc)!

"so you're fucking the hokage, huh?"

you nearly spit out the drink in your mouth while maemi looks at you, unphased by the words coming out of her mouth, and stirs her drink. it's 11am, there's relentless hustle and bustle at this outdoor restaurant, and the soft breeze of early spring is not enough to abate the heat rising from your mostly bare shoulders up to your jawline.

"shhh!!!" you hiss, leaning in, as though you're suddenly surrounded by reporters. maemi blinks.

"damn, you didn't even argue with me." she laughs as your complexion reddens even more, and takes another bite of eggs benedict. you're covering your face now, embarrassment thick and unrelenting, and she chews and swallows before leaning in.

"don't worry, no one is listening in. plus i'm pretty good at misdirection - good grades in genjutsu class, remember?" she insists.

you shoot her a dirty look before rising to a regular sitting position, and adjusting the pleats of your spring dress.

"fine, a codename." maemi suggests. "are we going with your usual?"

you sigh. "That Man and I have not fucked yet."

maemi looks at you, contemplating, then takes another bite.

"he's fingered you under the table, right?" she asks.

"please!"

maemi takes a sip of her mimosa, nonchalant, and gulps it down a little too quick. "manabu told me, and if he knows, more people know than you think."

your blood seems to run cold, or is it early spring chill? you can't tell. her partner doesn't seem like the gossipy type, but he does work close enough to the hokage's office that it is feasible that he's heard something - or worse, heard something.

"you know, i could tell that once you started this job it would end up like this." she taps her forehead with the back of one of her chopsticks. "you know, the authority kink and everything?"

you take out your hand and place it on the table, palm up. "knock me out right now, to be honest." maemi looks down at your hand then looks up.

"oh no, you're gonna have to ask the alcohol to do that for you." she says, declining to waste her chakra. with that statement, she finishes the rest of her mimosa, then raises her hand up for the waiter to bring them another round of drinks. once the order is given, her eyes turn foxlike as she smiles at you again.

"hey, can you get the hokage to promote me? i'm not gonna be able to compete with nepotism baby sakura at this point, unless i have some kind of backer."

you snort. "i don't think being a former hokage's apprentice necessarily counts as nepotism. maybe she's just good."

maemi furrows her eyebrows. "listen, i may not be as good as her but i'm not garbage and i need someone powerful to back me-"

you raise a hand. "even if i WERE-" you pause, then bite your lip before continuing, "making love to current Lord Sixth-"

"is that what you call him in bed?"

you can feel your head start to pound before giggling maemi raises her own hands in defeat. "sorry, no more jokes."

you cut your eyes at her, and continue, "- what makes you think i can ask that?"

maemi leans in, brown eyes glowing with humor at her own jokes. "just give him the old spit shine and be like, so i have this really, really talented friend-"

"get out." you hiss.

your next round of drinks come, and you dig into a plate of potatoes and chase it down with iced coffee. as the conversation shifts away from the fact that you are notably entangled with the most powerful man in konoha at the moment, you consider what it might mean for your future, both as a biographer but also as someone who hopes to live quietly in this country. maemi notices you are somewhat lost in thought, and stops her tirade about the hierarchy of konoha's medical-nin, and gives you a reassuring smile.

"i know i just gave you shit, but i promise if anyone bothers you, i'll be the first one at your defense. i already told manabu to write down the names of anyone who even suggests that you're anything but sweet and sought after," she mentions. "you'll be fine."

you swallow.

"thanks."

maemi gives you another look, able to tell you're not completely reassured.

"do you love him?" she asks, her voice softer this time. "... it's not wrong if you do."

you can't give her a yes now, but you can feel your heart, slowly but surely, moving towards it.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #thoughts: kakashi #daydreams: naruto #treasures: kendall #mimi's notes

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sable-dream · 11 months ago

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I saw that last post a few days ago and have been thinking about it ever since. because I think in some ways the therian community needs to have certain points of reference for itself, because we're a community and need to at least somewhat relate to one another, but I also think that the TikTok community has become an incredibly narrow standard of what is and isn't therian, mostly influenced by youtubers and other tiktokers defining and refining the definition to extreme lengths.

however that being said I think a lot of times when people argue about treating therianthropy like an aesthetic they're mostly upset about people... actually... turning... it... into... an... aesthetic... with things like certain clothing and specific items and a certain way to dress and act and set up your social medias, which is really more of a problem with the way social media works, but it's particularly bad in some therian spaces.

It's also UNHEALTHY for a lot of younger therians or therians new to the online community to see therianthropy being defined as "well if you want to look like a therian you need to have vines on your walls and perfectly painted masks and only wear neutral colors and long skirts and flowy pants and hang out in the woods". Which I think is just not feasible for a lot of people and makes them feel isolated if they can't fit that perfect aesthetic standard.

Think of how the online witchcraft community treats spellbooks and magic, with all these beautiful crystal spreads and fancy books and pretty pens and perfect little ingredient bottles. That's what I think people are trying to avoid when they talk about turning therianthropy into an aesthetic.

Masks, tails, other gear, quadrobics, certain fashion styles, places to hang out, being interested in vulture culture or obsessed with nature are not prerequisites to being a therian! I like owning gear because it makes me feel good but most of my gear is really bright unnatural colors. My favorite yarn tail is RAINBOW for heaven's sake. I'm not a nature-y person who collects rocks and shells. I like the woods but I'm also fandom trash who writes smut and makes character moodboards. My room is a complete mess half the time and has never looked aesthetic or perfect. Because I'm messy and alive and I'm not forcing myself into a narrow box of what's "acceptable" to other people's standards.

Then again this is more of a problem with social media and microinfluencers and online marketing then it's about therianthropy.

#chattering #therianthropy #I didn't proofread this sorry lol #therian community #therian aesthetic #therian community discussion #otherkin community #altherhuman community

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xaeethebaee · 2 years ago

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The Light in his Dark World

Minors DNI! 18+ Folks ONLY!

Synopsis: You're relentlessly pursued by the infamous blood-thirsty gangster by the name of South Terano, and you cannot figure out why he's so smitten by you.

Black Reader x South Terano

A/n: A while back, I did reblog a post and the OP explained they want to see a story like this, and I volunteered. This is my first time writing for South. Actually, it is my first time writing a slow-burn fanfic so let me know how it was. @sukunasbabymama Sorry it took so long.

Word Count: 7,270

Warnings: Mentions of brutal violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rokuhara. An infamous bar located deep in the slums of Rio De Janeiro. On the outside, it looks like the typical run-down shack adorned with rusted shutters and somewhat rotted wooden door frames. That is not the case upon closer inspection of the establishment. Almost every night, many people are drawn to its walls, and it is not because of the cheap beer and sexy bartenders. Once getting past those flimsy entrance doors, and down the derelict stairs that seemingly lead into a dark abyss, a whole new world has been opened up.

Over a hundred Rio De Janeiro residents gather around where the real fun is happening. A makeshift boxing ring lay as the centerpiece of the basement. Spotlights shine down on it, illuminating dried-up blood stains on the material and a pair of violent men trading harsh blows with one another. Rokuhara hosts one of Brazil's most intense underground fight clubs and this is where you begrudgingly call your place of employment.

There is not much opportunity to flourish in your poverty and crime-stricken city, and being from a financially struggling family, moving somewhere else was not a feasible option. You’re essentially making the best out of your unfortunate home life though you find that serving bottles of liquor to drunk men who enjoy watching other men beat each other to a pulp is a much better job than selling your body as a prostitute which is also a common practice here. Also, the tips you earn are a lot more than anyone could imagine which does allow you to live slightly more comfortably than many other people in your area and have savings for when you eventually decide to call somewhere else home.

Essentially, every night between 10 pm and 5 am, you witness brawls between different gangsters from hoods across Rio and even other parts of Brazil. Your primary purpose is to prepare and serve drinks to the rowdy guests during these optimal hours and tonight is no different. Men and women alike crowd around the ring, yelling obscenities, and betting hundreds - sometimes even thousands - of Brazilian reals on the fighters. It is not the kind of environment you enjoy being in and seeing these unsavory individuals take pleasure in this savagery causes you to lose more and more faith in humanity. Again, you press forward as there are not many options.

After placing the bottle of beer on your tray, you way through the thick crowd of patrons and towards a small flight of stairs. It’s a relatively quaint platform that’s only reserved for the VIP guests of the establishment. VIP guests often include unsavory business Mongols, gang leaders, cartel bosses, and in this particular case, a man with a spine-chilling reputation as being the most brutal fighter of Brazil’s underground world.

For the most part, the patrons and fighters are all faceless and that even includes the regulars for Rokuhara; however, this particular individual is different. You know him all too well. Because of his massive height, he easily dwarfs everyone he comes across which adds to his intimidating aura. Although reluctant, you put on a brave smile as you approached the scary man, who is sitting quietly as he observes an ongoing fight. You vaguely make out a smug smile on his face while he leans back in his leather chair with his long legs manspreading, obviously entertained by the violence before him.

You can hear your heartbeat pumping in your ears once you’ve arrived at his table. Nervously, you set the bottle of beer down next to him, attempting to avoid eye contact with him.

“Here’s your drink, sir.” You muster out.

Quickly, you turn your heel and begin to walk away, but you did not get to make it far when you feel your arm being grabbed, preventing you from leaving. Looking down, you notice a large hand wrapped around your arm, though it was not tight enough to cause you any pain.

“What did I say about the formality, sweetheart?”

His deep voice sent shivers down your spine as you slowly turn around to face him. What you see is the man’s piercing yellow round eyes and his grin that is now being directed at you. He has blonde hair that is being kept in a bun and despite wearing a white button-down shirt, his Brazilian tribal tattoo design sticks out from the rightmost side of his chest and runs up his neck. It is not surprising that many people shake in fear when they are in the presence of this man. Sighing, you gently try freeing your arm from his grip.

“I’m working right now.”

You mumble but the man nonetheless heard your soft voice. He can see the uncertainty in your eyes therefore he hesitantly lets go of you.

“I told you this before. You don’t have to be so scared around me.”

He says with a tone of voice that contradicts his outward appearance. You can hear the gentleness in his deep voice in addition to slight concern. You’re still not at much ease as you are fully aware of what this man is capable of.

It is not the first time you have come face-to-face with him. In fact, you see him almost all the time either in Rokuhara as one of the fighters or in the streets of Rio De Janeiro taking on gangs of hoodlums. Each and every single violent encounter with this man always lead to someone being fatally or mortally wounded by him. His strength and violent streak easily triumph over everyone he comes across, and he is even not above murder if it means he keeps his dominion over others.

Despite your many encounters with him over time, you somehow end up unscathed. On the contrary, you are often on the receiving end of the man’s rare instance of friendliness. You’re still unsure why you seem to get special treatment from him especially since you know that he knows you aren’t fond of people like him. You’re seemingly the perfect victim for him to play around with and destroy but in reality, the man treats you almost as if you’re a porcelain doll. You can’t even recall a time when the man has even said something mean to you.

“I am working, South.”

You repeat, this time uttering his name with a bold expression. Your assertiveness is felt by the man named South who just takes a sip from the beer bottle you brought him. After feeling refreshed from the sip, he just nods and then says with the same gentle tone:

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You quickly follow up.

Once again, you try leaving him to his drink, but what he says next stops you in your track.

“So have you decided on going out with me?”

An audible sigh past your lips before you swallow some of your fear. You turn back around to look South back in the eye.

“You asked me that at least five times this week.” You point out.

“Yeah, I know.”

Although you were anxious, you still proceeded to reject him in the friendliest way.

“I told you before. I am not looking for a relationship right now.”

South goes quiet, momentarily thinking over your response as well as his future response. There is no doubt in your mind that he is going to say that he understands how you feel and then reiterate his eagerness to take you out on a date. This has been the norm for the last few encounters you two had, and just as you predicted, he states:

“I get it. You don’t wanna date a guy like me who kills people for fun. It’s just you’ve been the only light in my dark world, and I can’t miss out on losing that light. I wanna keep you safe and happy, sweetheart.”

Desperation laces his tone; however, you’re unfazed by it. It is no secret to either of you that you find this man absolutely terrifying. You actually witnessed him at his most violent, and he knew you were there.

The sight of him punching a man’s face until it became a bloody pile of mush still haunts your mind, and South had the nerve to rationalize it by stating the man had ill intentions for you. You can’t deny that it was clear you were about to be attacked by the creepy man and South did come to your rescue but that does not change the fact that you saw the blatant enjoyment on his face. South claims he wants to keep you happy, but murdering people in your presence is certainly not how he should go about it. You’re mildly annoyed by his insistence but it obviously does not overshadow the fear you harbor for him. South can see it in your face. He can see you shaking with anxiety before you realized it yourself.

“South, I-”

You start to speak but a sudden uproar of cheering cuts you off. You’re then reminded of the environment you are in, seeing the crowd of people screaming and yelling as the match has reached its conclusion. South momentarily gets distracted when the winner gets announced, which gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away. He immediately noticed your retreat but just decides to take another sip from his beer.

You return to the bar to take a deep breath. For a moment, you did not realize that a group of people was waiting to place their order with you. One older man just clears his throat to get your attention.

“Ma’am?”

He calls for you though it was unusually quiet. Looking up, you see the faces of the people and you resume your work.

“Oh! I’m so sorry everyone! I’ll be more than happy to assist.”

You put on a brave face before proceeding with your duties as a bartender. You tried your best to fulfill each order promptly, but with the state that you are in and the time crunch you are on, it was inevitable that you made mistake after mistake after mistake. Though you are quick to fix these mistakes, no one bothered to mention them to you. You’re fully aware of how irritable people can get when their orders aren’t correct or when service is slow, so you expected someone to call you out. It did not happen, however.

Rio De Janeiro is a massive city but when it comes to infamous people like South Terano, words about them travel fast amongst the communities. That means your encounters with him are no secret. People noticed how differently his demeanor has changed when he is around you. Even a blind man can see how soft he is when it comes to you, and after everyone heard about him killing a man just to protect you, an unspoken rule was established. No matter what, nobody is allowed to bring any harm to you whether it be physical or emotional.

You did not realize just how much influence South has over your life. You’re off-limits for any and everyone, despite not having a single violent bone in your body you’re just as feared, and you unknowingly have dominance. It’s the reason why you can work in such a violent environment without so much as a single threat being thrown at you. In the eyes of the residents of Rio, you are South’s girl therefore you are being treated as such.

It took several minutes but you’ve finally finished fulfilling everyone’s orders and even made a sizable tip in the process. You take a moment to catch your breath, leaning on the bar counter and reflecting on your interactions with South. You know how dangerous he is. He’s a ferocious man who takes every opportunity to fight and kill. Not to mention his short temper which causes him to lash out at anyone who provokes him, but somehow, you’re his soft spot. You’re someone who brought light to his dark world but how? Where did these feelings for you come from? You nearly strain yourself trying to figure out why South is so smitten by you.

“Ma’am? May I have another bottle of Guinness?”

The same quiet man from earlier asks you, although he was nervous. Sitting up and presenting him with a smile.

“Of course!”

You answer back, grabbing another bottle of the requested drink from the refrigerator. After handing it to the man, you suddenly make a realization.

“That was the drink South ordered when we first met.” You think to yourself with a sigh.

Even before you two officially met, South’s name has already been circling around. Even before seeing his face for the first time, you knew just how dangerous this man is and when you two met, you felt your veins run icy cold.

You explicitly remember being behind the bar, cleaning up the dirty wine glasses. This night was any typical night with the rowdy patrons yelling obscenities at the fighters before them. It is a sound that you were starting to get used to since starting your job as a bartender. Almost immediately, everything went silent, and the atmosphere changed entirely, and you’re initially confused.

That is until you peer up and immediately see a massive man making his way to the boxing ring. He has a wide grin on his face as if he is thoroughly entertained by the fear that is radiating throughout the room. No one bothered to say anything as this man takes off his shirt, revealing his toned upper body and tribal tattoo. He indeed needed no introduction.

He stands opposite another man who presents a cocky smile on his face. Everyone is silent, too terrified to utter a single thing. You’ve heard countless stories about the destruction and chaos this man has caused since he was a child. South Terano: a name that strikes fear in the hearts of many and you’re no different. You had every reason to be afraid of him.

Finally seeing him in person feels like your nightmare has come true even though you should’ve expected that he’d make an appearance eventually. You do work at an underground fight club after all and all South does is fight so it was inevitable that he’ll show up. Too stunned to steady your breathing and shaking hand, you failed to realize the glass you were holding is starting to slowly slip from your grip.

Nevertheless, you watch as the fighters begin stretching as they prepare for their upcoming match. South’s grin never falters as he cracks his neck and due to the silent room, you heard every bit of the popping sound. With bloodlust in his eyes, he heaves out a breathy chuckle before stating with an amused tone:

“This is gonna be fun. You’re gonna regret challenging m--”

He’s suddenly interrupted by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. All eyes are on you as you stand motionless and embarrassed. The man’s grin dropped a bit upon seeing you struggle to gather your words to formulate a sentence.

“Sorry!”

You quickly shout before hurrying to a nearby broom. With the room still silent, everyone - including South - can hear your frantic sweeping. As soon as you’re finished sweeping up the broken glass, you’ve used the dustpan to take it over to the trashcan. Quickly, you opened the lid of the trash can before discarding the glass into it. Throughout all of that, the room was still silent save for the sounds of you cleaning up the mess.

Looking back up, you’re still the center of attention. The onlookers have fearful expressions on their faces while South remains to have his grin, amused by what he just witnessed. Overwhelmed with embarrassment, you just give an awkward thumbs-up before announcing:

“I’m finished!”

After that, you back away into a corner in shame which allows the match to officially begin.

Both fighters get into position and in no time, the referee signals for the match to begin with the sound of his whistle. Hastily, South’s opponent rushes to him and despite the obviously massive height difference, the man nonetheless reaches high enough to punch South in the face. The hit; however, only felt like a light touch to the large man who just laughs.

“Try again weak shit!” He taunts with laughter.

The smaller opponent grunts and then takes the opportunity to punch South again, this time on his abs but that hit was proven futile as well. In shock, he looks up only to find South’s prominent grin peering back at him. The man realized his mistake too late once the bigger opponent leans forward.

“My turn.” He simply says.

Before he knew it, he feels a punch that is equal to the strength of Hercules. That punch shatters his facial bones, resulting in the man stumbling backward and falling onto the cold and bloody floor.

“That’s it? You just wasted my fucking time!”

He yells before stomping the unconscious man’s chest, no doubt breaking his ribs and damaging his internal organs. A horror-stricken gasp escapes your lips due to witnessing his brutal savagery. That gasp did not go unnoticed by South who looks directly at you with the same amused grin.

“Did that scare you, sweetheart?” He directs his taunting to you.

You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as the terrifying fighter walks out of the ring and through the crowd of people. In no time, he’s at your bar, looking down at you as if you’re his prey.

“I asked you a question.” he reminds you.

Taking in a deep breath you respond sheepishly:

“Yes.”

“Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.”

South says as he reaches out to run his fingers through your hair. On impulse, you back away before his hand could make contact with you. You can hear audible gasps from the crowd when you rejected his advance. You can see the grin on his face drop ever so slightly, convincing you that it is your time to die.

The scary man just leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter as he checks out your body. He notices the way you nervously stand while also shaking like a scared puppy. Additionally, he notices your uniform perfectly accentuating your curves and the way your melanated skin glows from the basement lighting. Your e/c eyes look back at his yellow ones, nearly enchanting him.

“What’s your name?” He asks.

You think about his question for a few seconds, caught off guard by his sudden cordialness.

“Y/n.” You reluctantly answer.

“Cute.”

He simply says, showing a very subtle spark in his eye like he just realized something. The man just smiles more before requesting a drink.

“Guinness.”

Although you’re plagued with fear, you comply with his request. Immediately, you grab a bottle of the drink and hand it to him with a nervous smile.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” You muster out.

Everyone is still looking in complete shock at you two’s interaction.

Thinking back on that day, you even noticed that he was nice to you then. You think to yourself when did South actually start to have a crush on you, and you’re having a hard time understanding why. You live a very unremarkable life, you cannot think of many special skills you possess, and you don’t think you’re the prettiest girl in the world - let alone the city.

So what made him so infatuated with you? Are you the only girl he pursues? Why won’t he give up his pursuit? So many questions in so little time. You’re stressing yourself with all the overthinking, so you decided to take another deep breath, purging your mind so you can relax for once tonight.

That brief moment of relaxation did not last long, however. The noise from the crowd seizes almost instantaneously and the tension rises once again. At this point, you are already aware of who has decided to approach your bar without even looking up from your spot.

“Sweetheart?”

His voice pierces your eardrum like a spear. You can feel his presence getting stronger and his footsteps getting louder as he goes through the crowd of scared people. With the help of his long legs, he reached your bar in no time. The people that were already sitting there immediately scurried away as if they were roaches when the light has been turned on. Just like when you two first met, the onlookers watch - some in fear while others with intrigue - your upcoming interaction with South Terano.

The very large man leans on the countertop, resting his elbows as he watches you hurry to the refrigerator to grab yet another bottle of Guinness. Swiftly, you set the beer down in front of him without bothering to acknowledge his presence.

“Sweetheart?” He repeats while cracking open the bottle. “Look at me.”

He demands softly, but you remain stubborn, adamant that maybe if you ignore him long enough, he’ll leave you alone. South’s stubbornness, on the other hand, is more potent than yours. His unwavering pursuit for you will not stop even if you don’t speak to him for the rest of your life, and you are fully aware of this. He’s a patient man indeed as he just sits and waits for you to finally give him a response. Your tenacity soon starts to falter after several minutes of dead silence. South is still leaning on the countertop as he finishes the bottle of beer.

“The end of your shift is approaching isn’t it?”

He asks, prompting you to look at the nearby digital clock. It’s just a few minutes away from hitting 5 am, thus you take the time to start cleaning. You’ve made sure to clean your entire bar except for one particular spot. The man just lets out a chuckle once he sees that you finally noticed his empty beer bottle and your reluctance to approach him.

Finally, you decided now or never to reach for his bottle, but that was the moment South took his opportunity to make his move. In a move too fast to back away from, South grabbed your arm and pulled you slightly closer to him. You released a surprised gasp upon the sudden movement. Shocked and terrified, you freeze up as you look up to see South’s soft expression.

“Just one date. It’s all that I ask for.”

“No.”

You quickly answer; however, that isn’t enough to discourage the strong man. He just squeezes your arm slightly harder than usual, prompting you to feel more petrified. Through a shaking tone, you muster out:

“I-I-I told y-you. Not interested in a r-relationship.”

At that moment, you did not realize tears are starting to roll down your cheek. You’re scared of this man, of course, but you’re feeling a slew of conflicting emotions at the same time. In spite of knowing everything about this man, there is a part of you that is very intrigued by him. That feeling of intrigue is also accompanied by attraction as the man before you is very easy on the eyes. It’s those feelings in addition to your fear that got your mind in a swirl. Now that he’s much closer than you are comfortable with, you are only able to ask one simple question.

“Why do you want to be with me so badly?” You ask with a cracking voice.

Seeing your emotional state, South uses his free hand to gently caress your cheek while simultaneously wiping the flowing tears.

“I told you already. You’re my light. You were the only person who gave me comfort.”

Confused by his answer, you shake your head in denial.

“All I-I did was tell you I wasn’t….interested.”

“Is that all you think you did for me?”

He asks you with a facial expression that tells you that he is unconvinced. You search through every facet of your mind trying to figure out what South means but the only things that come up are all the times you rejected his advances.

“You seriously don’t remember, do you?” He asks.

“Remember what?”

The man lets go of your arm, breathing out a disappointed sigh. For the first time, you can visibly see his grin drop from his face. Leaning up, South puts his hands in his pockets before he starts walking towards the flight of stairs essentially leaving alone at the bar.

“I’ll be waiting outside for you when you’re finished. Don’t try to escape.”

He demands, sending shivers down your and everyone’s spines. You only got to see South when he’s enjoying his life but now this is a mood from him that is completely unfamiliar. The terror within you goes nuclear because of it. You can feel the pitiful eyes being directed at you as you finish closing your bar.

Once finished, you take off your apron and hung it up on a nearby hook. You take in a deep breath before releasing it slowly in an attempt to calm your firing nerves. Anxiously, you walk toward the stairs feeling every single eye of the people on you. Turning around, everyone just gives you a sad nod, convinced that this is their last time seeing you alive and well. Seeing their reactions gave you no comfort whatsoever; however, you nonetheless ascend up the flimsy wooden stairs and into the raggedy above-ground shack.

Almost immediately, you see the extremely tall man waiting just outside for you. Having no other choice, you press forward through the entrance and out into the humid world to face Brazil’s most dangerous man. It’s still relatively silent as you notice him slowly getting on the motorcycle that has been behind him.

“Get on.”

He says to you however you stand there confused as you’re trying to process the odd request. You can see the annoyance in his eyes while he breathes out a sigh. Quickly, he grabs your arm again but he is very careful not to hurt you. South guides you to the vehicle and has you sitting in front of him.

“W-Where are you taking me?” You ask softly.

“My place.” He simply responds with a rougher tone than usual.

That answer made you feel more fear in your bones therefore you try getting off the motorcycle. Immediately, you’re stopped when South cages you in with his large arms as he grabs the handles, engulfing you with his massive body. You did not have time to process what is going on or even register his body heat when the vehicle turns on. The motorcycle revs, scaring you into being completely still.

“Hold on to my hands and stay still.”

He commands and since he is so close to you, you can feel the vibrations in his chest and abdomen due to his deep voice. Nevertheless, you comply as you’re afraid to make him more pissed off and you do not want to fall off the vehicle.

South gently accelerates and the vehicle moves though, he is mindful of the speed he’s going in. Therefore, he goes at a leisurely pace as you two traverse through the littered and cracked streets of the slums. You’re as comfortable as you can get while having a firm hold on the man’s hands, noticing just how large he is compared to you.

Though it is still dark outside, you can still see your poverty-stricken community. Houses are ransacked - some are even destroyed, graffiti line the stone walls of the buildings, and trash litter the streets. With you only spending most of your time either at your apartment or at the bar, you forget just how rundown your community is. Seeing that makes you feel sad.

That’s just from the appearance. Crime plagues your city. It is so bad that Rio De Janeiro persistently shows up as one of the world’s most dangerous cities by many different news organizations. One of the biggest perpetrators of the violence that is rampant is the man who you’re currently riding through the city with. That same man who spent a considerable amount of time trying to get you to go on a date with him. Well, he finally got his wish as you’re both on your way to his place.

You’re nervous to see what his living situation is like. You can imagine a large compound that is surrounded by his followers, a foul stench of death lingering in the air, and piles of trash thrown about. To your surprise, you see the downtown district come into your view. Lights from the bustling city and its skyscrapers leave you in awe once you’re reminded that not all of Rio is the slums. As a matter of fact, it’s one of the most beautiful cities in the world that boasts terrific nightlife and is home to many stunning beaches. It’s too bad the city’s natural beauty and rich culture are overshadowed by violence.

South continues to drive the motorcycle towards the downtown area, leaving you more perplexed and nervous, knowing the downtown area is typically home to more wealthy individuals. You want to question the man about where exactly is his home located, but the words are stuck in your throat.

Besides the loud revving of the motorcycle, there is still an awkward silence between you two. No doubt, there is a slew of things South Terano wants to say right about now, and you’re no different. Instead of speaking, you continue to gawk at the sheer difference between the downtown area and the area you call home. Poverty isn’t around every corner and the streets are significantly clearer.

Soon enough, you start to feel the vehicle decelerate as you two arrive at a high-rise building at the epicenter of the city. South turns into an underground gated parking and after inputting a code into the security panel, the large metal gate opens up. Inside are numerous high-end vehicles lining the parking lot, and South goes to a designated spot next to a massive black SUV. The man parks his motorcycle in front of and perpendicular to the vehicle before turning off the engine.

“Follow me.”

He says, getting off while simultaneously grabbing your hand, interlocking fingers with it. The sudden and intimate move catches you off guard momentarily which is the reason why you did not utter a single word as you’re escorted to an elevator. South puts the same code into another security panel and before you know it, the doors closed and you can feel the elevator ascending up the building.

Again, silence as you two stand in the somewhat cramped space with the only thing preventing you from hearing your pounding heartbeat was the classical music playing from the speakers. Though, that did not stop you from vaguely noticing the much larger man subtly moving his head in the same rhythm as the piano melody.

Deciding not to think much of it, you are caught off guard when the elevator stops at one of the highest floors of the massive building. As soon as it stops, the metal doors open up to reveal a long hallway. Casually and while still holding your hand, South walks, and after he passes by a few doors, he stops at one with a prominent 906 on it. After putting in the same code one last time, a clicking sound was heard letting both of you know that the door has been unlocked.

Entering, you’re immediately greeted by the most beautiful and luxurious apartment that you could ever imagine. Expensive furniture is throughout while stunning paintings adorn the perfectly painted walls and there is a massive piano towards the corner of the living space. All of that is also complimented by a large window that gives a magnificent view of Rio De Janeiro. You’re so in awe with the place that you did not notice South letting go of your hand. He just watches with a soft smile on his face as you continue to admire the apartment.

“Like it?” He asks.

Slowly, you turn to him. Your fear has simmered down somewhat which means you finally have enough courage to speak full sentences to him.

“It’s beautiful. This is really your place?” You asked with curiosity.

South chuckles at the sparkle in your eyes.

“Yes. It is. Being a gangster has its perks.”

Hearing those words quickly made you think of the worst. You imagine the malevolent things this man could’ve done to get such a beautiful place. How many people did he have to step over and kill for him to live in such luxury?

“Sweetheart, I signed the lease just like any other person.”

Almost like he read your mind, South just chuckles after giving that brief explanation. It did not do much to settle your nerves enough especially after it finally dawns on you that you’re completely alone with South - the very man you’ve been horrified of for a long time. Unsure of what to do, you just stand in the middle of the living room while holding yourself.

“Sweetheart, I-”

He starts to speak but is quickly cut off by you.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You ask.

“Nothing.”

He says while approaching you. Not wanting to be too close to him, you just back away but you’re once again reminded of South’s long and quick arm. Gently, he grabs your shoulder before taking you over to the couch. Your mind goes haywire as you think of what he could be planning. If he chooses to have his way with you, you know that there is not anything you can do about that as he’ll easily overpower you. So instead of trying to fight a battle that you have already lost, you do not try altogether, figuring it’s better than being brutally killed.

Sitting you down, the man just smiles making a breath get caught in your throat. He’s still sensing your fear, so he just softly caresses your cheek again. For some odd reason, the action calmed you down slightly as you’re reminded of just how gentle he is with you. Just as quickly, he removed his hand and then he goes to grab the seat that is in front of his piano before placing it in front of you. That allows him to sit, letting him appear less threatening.

“I’m still really fucking pissed at you.” He suddenly says, completely catching you off guard.

“Why? What did I do?”

Your question comes out a bit shaky although it is clear that you are unknowingly becoming more comfortable in South’s presence.

“You still haven’t realized why I want you so bad, huh?”

He crosses his arms.

“I can’t imagine there’s anything about me that you’d like.”

“Really?”

His questioning is accompanied by a raised eyebrow and the same facial expression from earlier returns. You start to feel a cold sweat break out from the compromising position you are in and the fact that you’re still confused about what South is referring to.

“Think harder, sweetheart.”

He tells you and once again you try very hard to come up with a sufficient answer as to why he’s so smitten by you. Of course, there is no luck. Nothing. Absolutely nothing comes to mind. Feeling defeated, you shake your head, afraid of disappointing South again.

“I don’t know.” You muster out through your cracking voice.

“You’re the light to my dark world.”

He gives a slight hint but it still leaves you with more questions than potential answers.

“How when all I ever do is reject you because of how terrifying you are?”

South lets out another chuckle, confusing you even more. You’re wondering why hasn’t he lashed out after so many attempts to get you to answer his question.

“You have shit memory.”

His chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh, at this point. Seeing your confused expression as well as your attempts to find the answer has left him thoroughly entertained. You, on the other hand, are still feeling confused and now that he’s laughing in your face, you also start to feel irritated.

“Did you bring me all the way here just to pick on me?”

You ask him, and it was enough to simmer down his laughing fit just enough so he can provide an answer.

“No, sweetheart. I brought you here as part of our date.”

“This is a weird date, South.”

He lets out one final chuckle before returning to his serious expression. Doing that essentially caused the entire mood to change significantly. Grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb over it, he asks you:

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

The room falls silent and the only thing you hear is the man before you heaving out a sigh. Suddenly, he stands up while letting go of your hand. Your eyes follow his movement as he just walks away and towards the hallway of the apartment. You’re left completely alone, unsure if you should use the opportunity to leave or wait for South to come back.

You opted for the latter option, so you sat patiently as you twiddle your thumbs. You have no idea what to expect once he returns as there are so many possibilities. One final time, you try digging into your memory to at least find something that may be related to what South is talking about but once again, your mind draws a blank. Giving up, you just look over in the direction he went in, anticipating his return.

A few minutes later and you can hear his heavy footsteps getting louder meaning he’s coming back to you. What you did not expect was for him to be holding an object in his hand. Sitting back in the chair in front of you, he presents you with the object, which turns out to be a stuffed animal. A ping of familiarity sparks in your brain as you reach for it.

“It looks familiar, right?”

He asks, allowing you to hold it. You wasted no time examining the plushie, feeling slight nostalgia for your childhood. While doing so, you answer his question.

“Yea. I used to have one just like this when I was a kid. I named him Bubbles, and I remember Bubbles had my name stitched on the bottom of his foot…”

You pause once you look at the bottom of the stuffed animal’s foot. To your surprise, you see ‘Y/N’ threaded neatly.

“…just like that.”

It is silent momentarily as you try to process the fact that you are holding your childhood stuffed animal. Although you had many, Bubbles was your favorite as he brought you comfort.

“Where did you get him?” you ask South.

“You gave him to me a long time ago.”

Your body freezes up upon hearing his response. You gave Bubbles away many years ago and you remember that moment so vividly.

“I remember giving him away to a crying kid who just lost his mother.”

You follow up with your response as you think back to that day many years ago. You remember seeing a crying child who was upset about his bedridden mother dying. You remember offering Bubbles to him stating that the stuffed animal always helped you when you were upset. You remember the moment when that kid gave you a soft smile upon being comforted by you. You remember seeing that kid’s eyes, and despite being red and puffy from crying, you can see the yellow irises. Thinking about it now, those eyes look eerily familiar to the orbs of the man sitting in front of you now. Looking up, you see South staring back at you, and you finally notice those very same eyes.

“You remember now, sweetheart? Now you see what I mean when I say you are the light in my dark world?” he asks you.

For the first time since being in South’s presence, you smile.

“You were the only person who’s ever been kind to me. Not even the man who became my father figure brought me the level of comfort that you did. I couldn’t forget what you’ve done for me, and I’ve always wanted to properly thank you for it.”

“South, I-I am sorry for not remembering, but why did you keep him throughout all these years?”

You ask him as you’re confused about him holding onto a stuffed animal. You found that to be odd considering the kind of man he is. Nobody would expect a dangerous gangster who takes pleasure in fighting and killing would keep a teddy bear that was given to him by a stranger when he was a child. So again, why would he do it?

“So I’ll never forget you. Plus, I have plenty more in my bedroom. You were right, stuffed animals are comforting.”

He responds though you see red dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Despite feeling embarrassed about his collection of plushies, South stares deep into your e/c eyes, finally getting lost in them. Everything goes silent once the tension between you two rises, and you’re unsure about how you should feel.

“South?”

You breathe out however, you barely had enough to process the man leaning forward. In no time, he presses his lips against yours and never in a million years did you ever think his lips would be so soft. The revelation and the sudden action made you forget about everything this man has done, and the kiss sent sparks throughout your entire body. Almost immediately, your hands found their way to his broad shoulders, touching him for the very first time.

Although you still fear him, you can’t help but admire him at the same time. In addition to being a very attractive man, you have to admit that he has also been the only person to show you kindness. Despite his murderous antics, you somehow feel safer with him than with any other person in the city as you know he would never hurt you. It took you this long to finally come to terms with that.

With the kiss getting deeper, you can feel your body heating up and South feels the same. Though it is difficult, he quickly separates from you, resisting the urge to ravage you on the couch. Instead, he opts for the slower approach, holding his hand out to you.

“Consider this as us making things official.” He chuckles.

You smile as well before setting Bubbles down on the couch. Without hesitation, you accept South’s hand standing up and quickly going onto his lap. Your face rests comfortably on his chest as his arms wrap around your much smaller body, engulfing you.

“Now that you’re finally mine, I want you to stay with me. I want to keep my light.” He says, rocking you back and forth slightly.

“I’m still scared of you.” You reply.

“I know but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Sighing, you just hug him a little tighter, finally feeling content in his presence.

“There are a lot of things you need to work on if you want me to stay.”

Looking down, he smiles again feeling true happiness for the first time since meeting you. Although he’s a bit unsure if he’s able to comply with what he thinks you’re going to ask of him, South Terano will try his damndest to keep you happy no matter what. Having you in his arms made him realize his new resolve and that is the be the best man that he can be for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scene!

Again, this was my very first time working on a slow-burn story so I am really curious about what you thought of it.

As for any future projects, I do have another one that I am working on. It is a slow burn as well. Toman will share their wildest sex stories, so if you wanna be on the taglist for that, let me know.

#tokyorevengers #tokyo revengers manga #south terano #tr fanfiction #terano x reader #south x reader #blackreaderxsouthterano #x black reader #black fem reader

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