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dangans-ur-ronpas · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 15

alexa bring me my popped corn and a drink. im about to watch a white boy get annihilated

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

may go back and edit some things for the final cut bc im STILL not all the way satisfied with how the trial is working out

the one where byakuya has only the vaguest idea what the hell is going on

syo is so fun to write. sorry im syo apologizer now

betaread byy @digitaldollsworld :)))

Content warning tags: mild descriptions/mentions of blood/gore

< previous - from start - next >

The ride down to the courtroom is tense as usual, but with a new, palpable level of hostility in the air. He feels gazes, laden with suspicion and wariness, but there’s no whispers, at the very least. Aside from the rumble of the elevator (and the occasional grunt and insult from Syo, who was picking a fight with anyone who ‘looked at her funny’), the air is dead silent.

He ignores them, arms crossed and staring resolutely ahead. The animosity isn’t unfamiliar to him; he’s experienced such things countless times already, from his siblings who wanted him gone, to adults who thought him young and impertinent and an obstacle. And he’s not one to care for the opinions of the lower class either, but it irks him that he needs to take them into consideration for this trial.

If he lets them decide based on their naive pathos alone, they’ll all be doomed. No matter how much he disliked having to cooperate with the rest of them, as foolish as they were, it would be necessary to ensure his own survival. As a child, Pennyworth once reprimanded him for criticizing the democratic structure of the various national governments, saying ‘the greatest asset is people.’ Byakuya had grown to understand the truth of those words, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

There’s a quiet shuffling sound at his side, that startles him out of his thoughts. He glances over, and sees Makoto, surreptitiously edging near.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, and when Byakuya raises an eyebrow at him, he taps the side of his face. “You know…”

Ah, right. “Yes. I’m fine.” He reaches to touch the side of his face - the swelling has reduced noticeably already, though it still feels soft and tender under his fingers. Like an overripe fruit. “Don’t worry about pointless things.”

“It’s not-” He starts, before sighing. “Okay.” Makoto’s head twists, glancing around them for any onlookers. “About my investigation-”

“Save it.” There were bound to be eyes and ears on them, most noticeably, Kirigiri’s. He can see the girl standing out of the corner of his periphery, a pillar of pale violet. He’d prefer not to draw unnecessary suspicion now. “I’ll hear about it during the trial anyways.”

Makoto falls silent. For a few moments, the only sound is the rumble of the elevator, the occasional shifting of restless bodies. Then Makoto leans closer until their arms graze, a sudden, shifting press of warmth.

“I promise, I’m going to prove you’re innocent.” There’s an unexpected fierceness to his tone, a determination that Byakuya only heard once before, during the last trial. “No matter what.”

He blinks, taken aback somewhat. He hadn’t expected this display of loyalty, but - well - maybe it was to make up for their previous falling-out. Whatever the case, Byakuya finds himself strangely reassured.

“Hmph. You better.” He crosses his arms and surveys their surroundings. “If you don’t, we’re all dead.”

So Makoto was certain of his innocence. That was some comfort, though Byakuya couldn’t put his entire faith in the other boy alone. At the end of the day, he could only rely on his own strength to get him through this.

It will be fine. The elevator shudders to a stop, and the metal grate of the doors rattle as they slide open. Everyone files silently to their stands, at this point already familiar with what being in this room meant. No matter what the outcome was, at least one of them would die.

From his stand, he looks around. Everyone seems somber, and even Syo is quieted down for once, currently consumed with picking at her nails. Ogami has her arms crossed, face turned downwards. Hagakure keeps fidgeting, head nervously turning this way and that. Kiyotaka seems as stiff as ever, posed as rigidly as a statue and staring silently ahead. Something white is wrapped around his head, stark against his dark hair; a bandage, most likely, and Byakuya wonders for a moment if he’s concussed.

“Welcome, welcome!!” Monokuma springs up, twirling on its chair like a clown. “What do you guys think of my redecorating? Pretty nice, right?”

Byakuya has no idea what the bear is talking about, until he looks around again and notices that there were more plaques, standing in each of the unoccupied podiums. Even with his vision, he can identify what the dark-framed rectangles are supposed to be, and why each of them had red paint splattered across it in an ‘x’.

Last time, it had been Maizono and Enoshima. This time, it was Kuwata, and Chihiro.

How tasteless. No one bothers to say a thing in response.

“Gosh, what’s with the silent treatment? Cats got your tongues?” Monokuma hums, apparently put off by the lack of reaction. “What a bunch of downers! Where’s your youth?”

“Enough with this.” Owada growls darkly. His hands are fisted tightly on the railing. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Well, aren’t you rip-raring to go! Didn’t expect that from you, Mister Owada!” Monokuma cackles excitedly. “But I don’t hate it! Alright, let’s get this show on the road!!”

So it begins. Byakuya readjusts his stance, lifting his head to stand tall and straight. He cannot afford to show weakness here. He cannot afford himself any more leniency, any reason for failure.

It was time to start the trial.

___

“Because we have a newcomer, let’s go over the rules one more time.” Monokuma says, as it climbs onto its chair. “At the conclusion of this trial, you will all vote for who you think committed the crime, and your vote will determine the results. If you can figure out ‘whodunnit’ then only they will receive punishment. But if you pick the wrong one…” It grunts slightly as it finally clambers into its seat, settling in with a bounce. “Then, I'll punish everyone besides the blackened, and the one that deceived everyone else will graduate!...Does that make sense, Miss Syo?”

“A death game, huh?” Syo hums, tilting her head. “No wonder y’all are so tense. It’s a real battle royale in here!”

“How dare you? My game is way more sophisticated than that government-organized waste of tax dollars!” Monokuma sounds genuinely affronted, somehow. “But- well, I could talk forever about that, but I don’t wanna cut into everyone’s time. To start, why don’t we go over some details from the case? I’m dying to know what you guys are thinking~!”

The response is more quiet, some awkward shuffles. Considering the events of the last trial, everyone was treating this one like a minefield, and each person was afraid to venture out first.

Finally, someone speaks up. “Let’s start with the scene itself.”

Kyoko’s voice is calm and steady, and cuts through the tense air. Silently, Byakuya appreciates her initiative, the careful drawing of the reins, the call for a preamble. If he came out and began throwing accusations outright, it would only damage his credibility; he needs a base to stand on.

“R-right.” Makoto follows up quickly. “Um, so. At around…one-fifteen today, Chihiro’s body was discovered by Byakuya, Hina, and Kyoko in the hallway outside the library. The body announcement went off shortly after.

“The body…was leaning against the wall, and apparently crucified,” His voice wavers slightly, but he presses on. “The presumed cause of death was…was a blow to the head. The Monokuma file says the death was instant.”

A blow to the head? He almost asks aloud, surprised. Though it hadn’t exactly been clear with the amount of blood on Chihiro’s body, he thought the cause of death would have been stab wounds, given Syo’s modus operandi.

If it was someone with the same cleverness as Kyoko, they wouldn’t have missed such an obvious detail, and if it were Syo herself I doubt she would have strayed from her pattern… He casts a glance at Syo, now picking at her teeth. Though, it is difficult to kill someone cleanly with sharp objects alone.

Somewhere to the side, Asahina shudders. “How horrible…”

Makoto only nods once, jerkily, in agreement. “The word ‘bloodlust’ was written on the wall besides the corpse, presumably with blood from- from the crime itself.” There’s the quiet sound of him swallowing drily. “The scene also mimics the signature of a serial killer that was pretty prolific a short while ago-”

“That’s ri-ight~!”

He’s interrupted by a giggle. All heads turned towards the source.

Syo is twirling in her stand, pointing at herself with the same glee as an audience member who was picked out of a game show. “It’s yo-ours truly! Call and I shall appear!!” She strikes some kind of ridiculous pose, hip cocked out and arms raised. “Genocider Syo is here!”

Even though they had all been present for her initial self-introduction, the declaration still draws some disbelief. “Wait, so…you’re serious?” Hagakure asks, with an air of incredulousness. “Lil’ Toko, the bookworm, a serial killer? You sure this isn’t, like, a late-case of middle-schooler syndrome?”

“Bah! Don’t compare me to those posers, Grasshead!” She snaps, pointing at him, and he yelps, flinging his arms up as if she was threatening him with an actual weapon. “I’m the real deal!! Ask me about any of the victims, and I can tell you everything ‘bout ‘em, from their favorite foods to their shitty tastes in girls!”

“...Anyways, Toko - in this case, known as Syo - was also carrying these.” Kirigiri withdraws a brown pouch from her jacket, the contents of it jingling. “Inside are scissors matching the unique make and model of the murder weapons found at Syo’s crime scenes. Between these and the…dramatic change in personality, I think we can confidently assume that Toko is Syo, and vice versa.”

“Hmph. Gloomy wishes she could be me.” Syo harrumphs. “But yeah, sure, you got me detective! Me n’ Gloomy are like twins in one body, but only one person can drive at a time, yakkno? And she always hogs the wheel.”

There’s a murmur, as people take in this new revelation. “So…like a split personality?” Yamada asks.

“Not quite.” Kirigiri replies immediately. “It’s not clear how her affliction might be classified, but it does explain how she was able to avoid detection for so long.”

I see…” Celeste’s fingernails tap lightly against the railing. “But with this, does it not appear as if this case is already solved?”

“No…it’s not that simple.” Makoto says, a frown in his voice. “All of Syo’s previous victims died by stab wounds, but this time around, Chihiro’s cause of death was from blunt force to the skull…plus, nothing sharp was used in the crime at all.”

This time, Byakuya can’t hide his surprise. “Really?”

He immediately shuts his mouth, at once disgusted with himself for losing his control like that, but it’s too late. Attention turns to him. “What is it, Byakuya?”

He grits his teeth, now with no choice but to move forward. “I didn’t get a close look at the body earlier,” He explains, which is something like the truth. “But - given the blood and the nature of Syo’s crimes - I assumed that there would have been use of stabbing to at least mimic the scene, if only just to suspend the corpse?”

It’s a plausible enough explanation. He can only hope no one noticed the hesitancy in his voice. Kirigiri is the one that responds. “It is strange,” She nods. “I noticed that as well. But no, there are no stab wounds whatsoever on the body, and Syo’s scissors are completely clean. The body itself is suspended with an extension cord looped around the wrists, and hammered into the wall.”

This was more unexpected information, but useful information nonetheless. But it was frustrating that he couldn’t have seen it for himself to confirm, and all he could do now was rely on Kirigiri’s claim. But no one else was speaking up to disprove her, and so he had no choice.

“Couldn’t she have chosen a different weapon and method of crucifixion to keep suspicion off of herself?” Celeste asks again, curiously. “Given the enclosed nature of our surroundings, would it not make sense for her to try and create a scene where we could not ascertain her role in it?”

“Right! Couldn’t it be that Syo - er, Miss Syo -” Yamada corrects himself quickly. “- was trying to cover her tracks? I mean, I’ve seen it all the time in mystery mangas, where the killer changes up their style to throw the dogs off their tail…”

“No way!” Syo confirms aloud, sounding genuinely affronted by the suggestion. “I take pride in my works, yakkno? Any shmuck can make sushi, but it takes a real master to make the real thing. And what happened with Chihiro is some cheap convenience-store trash you can buy for a kid’s allowance!”

Ugly metaphor aside, it made sense. After reading so many case files, he had an understanding of how hedonistic killers operate, and it seemed that Syo was certainly not out of the norm in this case. She and the mastermind were similar in this regard. No matter how irrational, they always adhered to their own twisted sense of pride, and by extension, followed their own set of guidelines strictly.

But, then that meant it was unlikely for Syo to have committed the deed. Out of three possible suspects in his mind, he knew it was not himself, and if it wasn’t her, then the last one left was…

“That’s a possibility, but it’s not likely here,” Kirigiri speaks as if Syo had never said anything in the first place. “Syo was far too eager to reveal her identity, so it’s unlikely that she had intentions of hiding herself...and furthermore, with someone with as extensive a streak as her, it strikes me as odd that she would break her habits now.” She voices out the exact thoughts he was having himself, and that both reassures and irritates him at the same time. “Rather, the obvious way the body was displayed, plus the small differences with the actual killing method and the mounting, makes me think that this is a red herring.”

“Quite right,” Byakuya says now, and he can feel eyes turning onto him. “But many details on Syo’s killing methods and habits were concealed from the public, including the fact that the victims were crucified. Which means there is only a limited number of people here who could have copied her M.O to this extent. Am I correct?”

There’s a moment’s pause. He’s taken them by surprise, by pointing out the very thing that would otherwise suggest his involvement. Everyone had seen Owada confront him on the second floor hallway, had heard his messy accusation, though given how Kirigiri was quick to have the suspects isolated and Owada occupied by the menial task of overseeing the scene, they likely weren’t aware of any real explanation for his suspect status beyond Owada’s initial, hasty claims.

That was what he needed to take advantage of now, if he was going to keep suspicion off of him and survive.

Kirigiri nods slowly, likely also taken aback by his sudden interjection. “That’s true…the details of the Syo’s victims were kept confidential to only high-level police and investigators-”

“But that doesn’t mean jack here,” Owada cuts in sharply. He had been quiet this entire time, but now he leans forward, hands clutched against the wooden rail. The tip of his pompadour is facing Byakuya, as if staring him down. “There was that folder thing, right? The one that had all the details on Toko or Syo or whatever, I don’t give a shit.” He drawls out his cusses with a snarl, trembling with rage. “And the only guy who’s spent enough time in the library to be reading about that kinda stuff is right in front of me.”

Byakuya suppresses a sigh. Of course, Owada would jump to such conclusions, easily thrown into a blind fury by mere provocation. The bruise still throbbing on his face is evidence of that. “As I was beginning to explain, yes, I did have access to this knowledge. However, I alone can’t be classified as the killer-.”

Owada cuts him off again. “But there’s more evidence, ain’t there? You were the only one closest to the body when it was found. You were the only one with blood on you-”

“Oh, please. Everything you’re describing is circumstantial at best.” He scoffs. “It’s not like I’m locking the library doors or living in there, anyone could have read that file. I don’t have access to anything that could’ve been used to stage such a crime. And the blood on me isn’t enough to justify a murder.”

“You could’ve cleaned it off then!” Owada spits, and Byakuya simply rolls his eyes.

“And what’s your proof? Beyond your own, half-baked opinions based on some coincidences?” He snarks. He can’t waste too much time on this. He needs to move on, and quickly. If too much attention lingers on him, he’ll lose credibility. “Tell him, Makoto.”

Gazes turn towards Makoto. Byakuya waits, expecting him to say something, to point out the blatant lack of proof, or offer some counterargument to break down Owada’s logic. But Makoto is silent, his face cast downwards. After a pause that feels entirely too long, Byakuya finally understands why.

The realization completely derails him, and his fragile, haphazard plan of attack shatters. “Don’t tell me…” he says incredulously under his breath, mostly to himself.

“There is proof.” Kirigiri confirms his suspicions. She holds something up - rectangular and maybe the size of a small book, and maybe white once, but stained so thoroughly with blood it was hard to tell - “There was a mess in the library suggesting a struggle had occurred, and there was a textbook that had some bloodstains along the spine found near the far shelf. There were also two of these gauze pads found behind the door.” There’s a dry crackle as she sets the bloodied gauze down against the railing. “Furthermore, the cord that was used to crucify Chihiro was also confirmed to have come from the library. We found an empty box with a broken lid, with a dust imprint that suggests that it was used to hold the cord.” She pauses for a moment, as if gauging reactions. “There was also a white sheet found in the boy’s bathroom on the second floor, with a large spot of blood near the middle of it.”

It feels like the floor is tilting under his feet, and he leans his weight forward into his arms, his hands still clutching the rail. The cord, the bloodied gauze? The sheet?

I’m being framed. That much was clear, but - he has no idea by who. It couldn’t have been Toko, or Syo. Had someone snuck into the library after Chihiro’s body was found, during all the confusion? Planted evidence to doom him?

“That’s impossible,” He hears himself saying, voice strangely distant. It takes an effort to drag himself back, out of his racing thoughts. He can still salvage this; I just need to stay calm.

“I’ve never touched that cord, and I have no idea where that gauze came from.” His own words sound pathetic and baseless, floundering attempts with no substance. “And- there’s not enough blood on the book to justify that kind of killing blow-”

“So it was used to hit someone?” Celeste asks, an amused note in her voice. Immediately, he snaps his mouth shut, cursing at himself silently. “Won’t you please elaborate for us?”

“That was-” It’s hard to explain the real reason. That he had struck Fukawa, in a moment of panic; no matter how much he hated that girl, to admit such a thing was humiliating, the act of someone lesser than him. “-from something else.”

His eyes dart towards Syo, half-expecting her to come forward and call him out on his avoidance of the topic. But all she does is…wiggle, her hands clutching her face.

“Gosh, I’m jealous of whoever got to feel those hands on ‘em!” She swoons, and he realizes that she didn’t remember. Either that, or she had no intention of bringing it up, and the latter seemed unlikely.

Kirigiri leans forward a bit, pale face turned towards him. “The gauze pad I held up was soaked through, but it’s strange how clumsily it was hidden. Additionally, just the two of them wouldn’t have been nearly enough to justify the cleanup of an entire scene, especially given the tendency of head wounds to bleed.” She pauses, apparently waiting for any protest, before continuing. “And the book, too. To match the shape and dimensions of the wound, you would have had to use the corner of the book and apply a heavy amount of force, and there aren’t any deep stains or large splatters against the edges that would suggest such a thing.”

The relief he feels is nearly palpable, Kirigiri’s methodical words like a balm. He’d be almost grateful for it, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was suspecting her as well. Was she trying to get his guard down? To ensure his support if she were accused? He can see others nodding, following her logic.

“And what about the sheet?” Ogami asks.

“The stain on it doesn’t suggest it was used to wipe anything up. And there are no clear splatter marks to suggest that it was laid down prior to doing the deed, to reduce cleanup time.” An inadvertent breath of relief leaves him, a quiet sigh, and he swears for a moment that he feels her gaze flick towards him, a near-imperceptible turn of her head. “The boy’s bathroom is also not as strictly regulated as the locker rooms, so to claim that Byakuya was the only one on the second floor who could have put that there is untrue.”

He refuses to let himself show gratitude for her aid. He looks away as she turns to him fully, pretends like he doesn’t see it. “So…does that mean it wasn’t Byakuya?” Asahina asks, bewildered. Byakuya opens his mouth to confirm-

“The hell it isn’t.”

Owada’s voice is a low rumble. Byakuya has heard him yell and rage before, but there’s something different now. An unidentifiable emotion beneath the anger. But it creates the same sensation as the thunder before a storm.

“That fucker was in the library the entire fucking time. Chihiro got strung up right across from him.” The room is silent, everyone terrified to interrupt. Byakuya can hear the creak of wood as Owada fists tighten on the rail. “There’s too many things that make him suspicious, don’t fucking tell me that all of you are just gonna write it off as fucking coincidental? Chihiro’s DEAD!”

“That’s-” Makoto speaks up, but his voice is drowned out almost immediately.

“The gauze. The case file. The sheet, the fucking extension cord.” Owada continues, turning slowly to cast his gaze at every person in the courtroom. “There’s no one else in this room who could’ve known about how Syo does her murders. There’s no one else with access to all the pieces to set this shit up. There’s no one else who would’ve had a motive-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He manages to keep his voice halfway steady, unshaken despite the sudden onslaught, but the beds of his fingernails are beginning to ache from where he digs his nails into the grains of the wood. The inside of his mouth tastes of metal and salt, accompanied by a raw, bleeding pain in his cheek.

“A motive. You, during breakfast - didn’t you say all that shit about ‘waiting for someone to die’?” Owada sounds just as hysterical as himself. “And then, Chihiro said you were the one who told him to tell everyone his secret - were you trying to get his guard down? To make him vulnerable, like you said?!”

“You’re insane. Do you even hear yourself?” Byakuya spits back. His head spins, and he feels sick. “I would never kill Chihiro, I-”

I owe him a debt.

He can’t say that. The words freeze on his tongue before he even comprehends what he’s about to say, as if pure instinct has held it back. But his mind feels unfamiliarly, frustratingly blank, filled with the static of rushing thoughts and a haze of panic.

If he tries to explain, he reveals his blindness, and makes himself vulnerable. If he doesn’t, he risks letting himself be identified as the culprit. His options were torn between his honor and his life, and either choice would ruin him.

He hasn’t felt this cornered in years. Not since the competition for heir.

“See? See?!” Owada is still screaming, but he sounds so far away. It sounds almost frenzied, as if with triumph. “He can’t even explain himself! He tricked Chihiro, and then murdered him!”

“No, that’s wrong!”

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #had to throw in a 'tell em makoto' in here somewhere bc. he's so extra #this would go a lot smoother if he just admitted he hit toko (hitting a girl...not cool byakuya)#to summarize the evidence at this point: the mess in the library + the bloody book #the bloodied gauze pads behind the door #the sheet with a large spot of blood found in the boy's bathroom #the electrical cord used to hang chihiro came from the library

17 notes · View notes

drawthething · 2 years ago

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Pretty basic, but I would love to just know your thoughts about Bob and Linda because they're one of my personal favorite TV couples and in my opinion ultimate couple goals. Do you have any favorite moments with them or about them, or possibly any headcanons with them and their relationship? I have so many favorite moments, but one of them is in "Eat, Spray, Linda" when a bakery owner says Linda was banned from the bakery for taking too many free samples and having "giant hands" and Bob gets upset for the owner insulting his wife and begins pelting him with the aforementioned free samples. Also one of my favorite moments is how they met, with Linda immediately being smitten with Bob's mustache and likening it to Tom Selleck.

Yaayy a Bob & Linda ask ❤️ this is too good thank you so much :]

I think it's pretty much mission impossible to not ship Boblin 🤠 Whacky, eccentric, fun and loving :D Enjoying each other's company, supporting one another, valuing their partner's differences and needs. Everything they do they're ride or die together. They too have their fair share of disagreement and flawed moments. They're not perfect and that's what makes them perfect :D (am i making any sense here?) Not to mention the hilarious mega over the top competitiveness pffft

Alright alright, let's get into my fav boblin moments aka what you actually asked me about pffft (your mentioned ones are so good)

• Ultimate favourite moment? Lindapendent Woman. Bob doesn't care that Linda has her own job but misses having her around and it's too sweet! The whole scene is perfecta - them yelling and apologizing across the store, running to hug each other and an almost kiss interrupted by a damn shrimp? Chef's kiss 🤌

• That one time they try to find out whose snoring interrupt their sleep. Another petty pointless competition, what's not to love eh :D? Them listening to the records of their own body noises just kills me (haha, they're old) The last scene is so amusingly cute though: "I guess you're my white noise. My disgusting white noise"

• Them listing what they love about each other in Romancing the Beef. What they listed ain't anything over the top but the little things? Things that only when you've spent years together will you be able to think of? It's perfect :]

• Bob Actually! Gotta love how Bob always tries the hardest to make Valentine's day special for Linda even if it means hip hop dancing in the middle of the street pffft

• This one is pretty underrated i think. The ending of Hamburger Dinner Theater? Bob isn't at all into the idea and shows distaste towards it the entire time. Then he sees Linda giving up on it during the last play and decides to make the last efforts to support his wife (like how she've supported him). It fails anyway but you know, like many Belcher-style failures, in the end they'd always (or learn to) have each other's back

Now for some fun bonus eh? (nope nope I'm not done yet)

• Bob chuckling at Linda's antics

• "Ugh, carry me to bed" - "Ugh, carry me to bed"

• "Get your finger out of my face!" - "Stuff it up your crackerjacks!" *Aggressively belly pushing each other*

• "Spice rack! SPICE RACK!" - "No, spiceps! SPICEPS!"

• "Now lift me up like in The Notebook" - "... I can't :'/"

• Them tripping out on weed cookies together. Which is, yeah :D

#i have mooore but this is getting a tiny bit way too long (again)#so perfect so glorious #second best couple but no other is the first #bobs burgers #bob belcher #linda belcher #boblin #asks #thank you so much aww

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ramonadecember · 11 months ago

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Isaiah

- Fir 2 , 3, 4

- Holly 2, 3, 4

- Ivy 2, 4

- Mistletoe 1, 3, 4

- Pine 1, 3

- Birch 1

oc questions.

sweet baby boy Isaiah wah.

Fir 2: Isaiah will always, almost to a fault, try to inspire hope rather than be blunt or ‘realistic.’ Maybe it’s pointless and naive, but it’s just how he is. Maybe a positive attitude won’t fix everything or cure everything or make it all better, but Isaiah knows that it definitely doesn’t hurt. That does seem to change a bit down the line, which is of real concern to Cain and his belief that he’s an entirely terrible influence on Isaiah (just because he says the positive is annoying doesn’t mean he wants it to stop…), and he tries to reformat we that hopeful part of Isaiah.

Fir 3: The above is the explanation as to why yeah, Isaiah would totally fight for a seemingly lost cause, or rather… would have the belief that no cause is truly ever a lost one. He would have given up on Cain a long time ago otherwise lmfao. But yeah, Isaiah is someone who really sticks to his beliefs and principles, thinking them very just and good, and so even when starting to be faced with increasing evidence how that’s not always the case, and how he may have been misled a little, he still holds true.

Fir 4: Most things about Isaiah can be described as stubborn, even if you wouldn’t initially expect it out of him. So it tracks that he’d be stubbornly loyal too, and most of all, that’s going to apply to Cain. In the beginning, Cain wanted nothing to do with him, and still Isaiah was a puppy on his heals. But even after learning who Cain really is—or at least, who he used to be—Isaiah refused to change his opinion on him. He wouldn’t hear it if people thought he should stop hanging around Cain or implied anything wrong with him. Isaiah is Cain’ biggest hype man, his ride or die lmao. And it definitely means he does overlook some things that really are questionable.

Holly 2: Isaiah isn’t necessarily someone to put his faith in lucky charms per se, but ‘faith’ is really the key word there. That’s what he has instead of a specific lucky charm. He puts a lot on his faith to get him through uncertain times or tough situations, crediting higher powers rather than a bout of good luck stemming from some sort of trinket. Not gonna judge anyone who does have something like that, though, because hey. Whatever works for a person.

Holly 3: This is one of those things where there isn’t one big moment, no one big harm or burden that Isaiah has taken on. But rather, he always wants to take on other’s burden. He is always lending a sympathetic ear and heart to listen to someone who is having a hard time or a bad day or what have you, and if he can, Isaiah wants to help them out (even if it’s just by being someone to listen to them). There’s no big reason he does it either, Isaiah just thinks it’s the right thing to do. A burden shared is a burden halved and all that.

Holly 4: I know for a lot of these characters I have these very cheesy response, or deep meaningful moments, but for Isaiah it’s a lot more mundane. Horrifying, but still more mundane. As a child, Isaiah almost drowned (getting in over his head is apparently going to be a theme in his life ha…), and he was lucky someone was there to pull him out of the water since he was often left to his own devices for large amounts of time, his parents trusting him not to get into trouble. Isaiah is more likely to be found on the bank fishing these days, rather than in the water.

Ivy 2: One of the main things that inspires loyalty from Isaiah is honesty a sense of duty. He follows because he believes he’s supposed to. And like… yes, that sounds like it could easily be sketchy or dangerous, but in Isaiah’s defense, he also believes that the people he’s willing to give his loyalty are good, genuine people who deserve it. When that starts to change, then his loyalty starts to waver, and it leave him very torn and off kilter after such a long time of supporting/following certain people.

Ivy 4: Isaiah is quite connected to his place of birth. He loves his tiny little town in the middle of nowhere and has never really had any plans of getting away from it. As the preacher’s son, Isaiah is quite well known there, and for the most part, people think he’s just the sweetest thing (which of course means there’s the other handful who think he’s an eyeroll worthy goody two shoes). But his ties there start to become… a little complicated when his eyes start getting opened to the broader world and the people there he’s closest to start ti show their true colors. He has to make a decision whether to turn a blind eye to some not great behaviors, or to finally set out on his own.

Mistletoe 1: I think I’ve talked about this in a different post, but Isaiah’s first friend was a girl his age who he grew up with. She was always so kind and stood up for him to other kids who really weren’t, having the confidence to balance out what was, at the time, a more timid Isaiah. Isaiah adores her, she’s still his best friend. And as a side fun fact, was also his first crush before he… learned some (gay lol) things about himself that ruled her out of his pool of interest, ha.

Mistletoe 3: Other people would describe Isaiah as peaceful, he is pretty relaxing to be around. Rarely does he gets out of line, really only showing his excitable side to a select few. But Isaiah really enjoys being that soothing presence, he wants to be able to do that for people. He wants to be the calm in a storm for people, be it friends and family, or members of the church, or mysterious strangers who get dumped on the doorstep who seem to need a little extra something like that in their lives…

Mistletoe 4: Not gonna lean too hard into Isaiah’s religious upbringing here, but it does influence on his views of mankind as a whole. Skipping the nitty gritty, humanity is flawed, but that’s kind of a beautiful thing, and overall he believes that people are good. Isaiah is also able to see the good in just about everyone, refusing to believe that a person can ever truly be irredeemable.

Pine 1: At one point, Isaiah sets out on his own venture, which isn’t really his best idea. The decision was made when he was in a pretty emotional state, and Isaiah, who’d never been very far from his home, and never on his own, was highly unprepared for it. He ends up getting in over his head and get roughed up from it. It’s nothing too bad ultimately, but Isaiah luckily hasn’t had to deal with a lot of physically painful moments in his life. What makes it worse the is the injury to his pride. Isaiah is usually pretty good at asking for help when he needs it and letting himself be taken care of (see below), but in that case, he refuses to go crawling back to any of the people who thought this was a horrible idea in the first place.

Pine 3: When hurt or sick, Isaiah actually is a pretty good ‘patient.’ He’s used to some coddling (even if he starts to reject it), but likes to just be… treated softly (no we’re not going to look at his choice of partner after saying that lmao). It’s kinda nice to have someone else take care of you for a little while, especially when you’re a person who’s always taking care. And Isaiah might be my only oc who actually not only believes, but abides by the truth that resting/taking it easy is the best thing to do in the case of injury or illness.

Birch 1: The thing that really fundamentally changed him to his core was ending up in what was essentially a ‘no son of mine’ conversation that ended with Isaiah getting hit. It was the final straw in Isaiah convincing himself that questionable behavior wasn’t as bad as it seemed, he couldn’t do it anymore. He also could no longer delude himself into thinking that his family would ever accept any part of him that didn’t fit with the good, god-fearing boy ideal that they wanted of him. It’s what ends up making Isaiah pack his bags and leave town, setting out all on his own.

#alright that's all that's in my inbox right now #oc: isaiah flint #oc tag #red dead online #red dead redemption #oc memes #ask memes

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sol1056 · 1 year ago

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I see the propaganda's already ramping up for the next US election cycle. Under all the outrage here is what amounts to an argument of "only vote for the perfect candidate" which is just one step shy of the conclusion you're left to make on your own: why bother voting? It's clearly pointless.

I appreciate why some people are single-issue voters, but frankly that's a luxury most of us actual americans can't afford. Especially when you're arguing we should die on any hill that plays directly into Republican hands.

That's how we'll get Trump again, just like we did in 2016. Right, the guy already spouting clear and obvious neo-nazi rhetoric; the guy (and his cronies) who've effectively promised there won't be another election after them, who see warfare on anyone and everyone as in the cards. Any ground anyone gained in the past four years will all be destroyed under the new permanent Republican authoritarian theocracy.

In comparison, Biden has really never has been a noisy politician. If I were to rate his weaknesses, the worst has got to be that he's achieved incredible cross-partisan victories in the US' polarized environment, but he's never thrown a parade about any of it. (Unlike the opposition, who do it even when they lost, even when it was actually a Dem-driven win.) In four years, Biden's achieved important legislation for marginalized people, women, queer communities, and working-class folk.

Maybe you're only in one category, or several, or none, but that doesn't make those wins any less important for the many, many Americans he helped. And the complaint that since you weren't helped for one specific issue, that you'll freely disregard all the other people who were helped? That strikes me as having the flavor of a selfish Republican-style whine. For all that, fine, I concede this much: Biden will never be perfect -- just like every single goddamn president before him.

Voting isn't a marriage, it's a bus ride. Smart money says choose the bus that can get us closest to where we want to go. Getting halfway there is still always better than a bus that will carry us all straight into a living totalitarian hell.

On top of all that, Biden is one guy. Like, literally ONE GUY. No president will ever be your messiah. Meanwhile, each american citizen has a mayor and local representatives, state-based representatives and senators, and Federal representatives and senators. And that's not counting the various cabinet members and advisors, at local, state, and Federal levels.

But perhaps OP missed the protests going on across the US (and the world). Or the many articles and opinion pieces and editorials pushing the US govt to make Israel end this genocide, and to broker a peace that isn't just another open-air prison.

This isn't our first rodeo either, as a country. We marched and protested to get women the vote, to end segregation, to make abortion legal, to fund AIDs treatment, to enact marriage equality. On and on. This is the work we do, as members of a democracy.

Granted, such protests have to be on a massive scale to influence the president -- but the real influence will always be through our direct representatives, at local, state, and Federal levels. They answer to us, directly, as their constituents. They're the ones who repeat our voices until we're deafening, and to keep going until the President takes this bus in the direction we want.

I find it telling that you expect political parties to do the job of enforcing our various representatives and senators into providing some outcome. That says a lot about your actual position on being part of a democracy -- because what you said is pretty much the opposite.

The ones who keep our representatives and senators doing their jobs to represent us is, and always has been, us. If you think democracy means you can just sign off and leave everything to others to handle, you're either a fool or a propagandist.

(You're certainly parroting the arguments we heard from bots and propagandists in '16 and '20. The names may have changed, but functionally, you're still playing the same game.)

The rest of us will stay in reality and make the best choice we can, and that's to choose our best bet for who'll keep this bus moving in the right direction. But that comes with the caveat that one person alone can't get that bus very far. Judging by age, wit, or looks are just a propagandist's smokescreen.

Election after election, our most productive leaders have always been those with the clout, experience, and connections to get the bus a little closer to our goals. And even with all that, a president is just one guy. One person can't do it all, and definitely can't do it alone.

For our democracy to work, it has always taken all of us doing our part to keep things going in the right direction. We speak up at town halls, write letters, make phone calls, or join protests, or all of the above. We're all on this bus together.

Democracy has never been a spectator sport.

i can't fucking believe it's literally a year out of the election, in the middle of a genocide that the whole world is watching, and I'm seeing democrats already scolding people (some of whom literally have family being killed in occupied Palestine) to vote for Biden.

are you fucking kidding me?

not only is he backing a genocide, perpetuating lies to justify this genocide, and directing domestic resources to repress people here objecting to said genocide (which should be enough already), he was also already unpopular before now, has barely done anything to counter the rising tide of Christian fascism you're all worried about, not to mention that he's old as shit and can barely get a sentence out

just from a purely logical, facts-based perspective, anyone trying to push Biden as a viable candidate right now not only doesn't care about the lives of Palestinians, but also actively wants marginalized people here to lose liberties. as far as I'm concerned, advocating for Biden is advocating for a second Trump term, because that man absolutely cannot win in the general election.

instead of wasting time scolding progressives (AGAIN) when we point out extremely valid criticisms of Genocide Joe, put that fucking energy toward canvassing for a new Dem/progressive candidate. we're a year out from the election. if you actually care about the lives of the marginalized not just internationally, but domestically as well, you have to put some fucking effort in instead of relying on the consistently-failing strategy of yelling at voters instead of demanding representatives do their fucking jobs and represent us.

#us politics #this is why we vote #vote blue

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acewithapaintbrush · 3 years ago

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Listen, I don't really like Abuela. All that generational trauma aside, I think she got off too lightly. A hug doesn't fix everything, a hug doesn't erase pushing away your granddaughter for 10 years, doesn't erase more or less casting off your own son ("Bruno didn't care about this family!" Like what? Where did that even come from? You don't know why he left he could have been dead for all you know).

That being said, I can also imagine her trying to be better but not being very good at it at first. Most of her attempts are just... sad to be honest.

Missing the mark by a mile.

But she tries at least.

Like with Bruno and his rats.

(This started as a drabble but I can’t write short stuff to save my life and so more under the cut. (Disclaimer: I don’t share Abuelas views on rats, I think they are rad cool!)

Alma loves her son. She loves her Brunito just the way he is, with his... oddities and everything, no matter what the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like her dear Pedro accuses her of.

She loves Bruno, she just doesn't understand him.

Like the thing with his rats?

Why does he care about them so much? They are vermin, dirty and disease ridden.

She could understand if he had grown a fondness for them inside the walls, alone and probably about to go insane without something to talk to.

("Don't think about it too much, Alma", she tells herself.

"You should never stop thinking about it" her Pedro whispers in her ear)

But they had always been his companions. He'd always had a knack for finding these things and befriending them.

It got really bad after he - at the age of 8 - had found that abandoned nest full of pink baby rats. Nine small beings, almost starved, probably more dead than alive at that point. He had found them through a vision, something that had enraged Alma back then. What a pointless use of his gift that was! He should help the townspeople, not some rodents. She had told him to get rid of them but in a rare show of nerves he had disobeyed her, had hidden them away in his room and nursed them back to health without her knowing.

Only six of the nine had survived in the end but those six critters wouldn't leave her sons side after that.

When Alma found out about his deception she tried to get rid of them herself. They were big and healthy now, no reason why her son should try to stop her, no reason why he should cry and beg as she gathered them in a box and brought them to a field outside of town and set them free.

No reason at all, in her opinion.

But by the next day they were back! Riding in his unruly hair (her Pedro's hair!) and hiding under his clothes.

Alma had been furious with her son, convinced that he had gone out and brought them back but he'd promised that he didn't.

"They came back on their own." he'd said, stroking the biggest of the rats.

"I think they like me." he had whispered with such a look of wonder and wistfullness on his face that it had thrown Alma for a loop.

She had tried a few more times but they always came back, no matter how far away she brought them.

After a while she decided to just wait. Rats didn't live forever after all. They would die and the problem would solve itself.

But they didn't die. Worse yet, they seemed to multiply over the years.

Her Bruno did his best to hide them from her, would try to keep the most of them in his room but she would hear them chittering away under his poncho, burrowing into his hair like it was their personal nest.

It was disgusting but Alma seemed to be the only one who thought so.

Her usually so well behaved Julieta would sometimes sneak her brother some of the food she had made for the town when one of the rats was hurt, no matter how often Alma scolded her about that. That food was for the town, not... dirty vermin.

And her Pepa, who liked all things pretty and sparkly and once caused a hurricane because her new dress got dirty seemed oddly accepting when it came to Bruno and his rats.

She didn't play with them or pet them but she also never minded Bruno bringing them along for their games and never asked him to put them away when he fed them during dinner.

It was a mystery to Alma, a scratch in their otherwise perfectly acceptable personalities.

She started to resent those rats. The older Bruno got, the more he pulled away from them all, but especially her. Back in the good old days he would come to his Mama when he was sad. Now he retreated into a corner of the house, whispering to the rats as if they understood him. While little Bruno would clutch his mother's dress when the townspeople gave him sidelong glances (not nice glances, Alma now realized, much too late), nowadays he would pull one of the rats out of his pockets and clutch at that, holding it close to his heart.

Like he used to hold his mother close to his heart once.

Alma just didn't understand.

She didn't really want to understand and instead of trying she let her resentment for these animals fester. Failed to see, that they didn't pull her son away but that rather she pushed him away, every day a little bit more.

It festered and festered and festered until it all fell apart one day.

They had all been in the kitchen. The children, teenagers now really, sitting at the table with their schoolwork and Alma sweeping the floors with an old broom.

The kids hat bickered good naturedly, the sun was shining through the windows, making the dust Alma was sweeping glitter prettily in the light.

It was a wonderful day and Alma had been in a good mood, humming under her breath when her son suddenly perked up.

"Hernando! Where have you been?"

A rat was running over the tiles, right for her son, her son who was smiling wide and happy, the first time she had seen her son smiling that day (that week? that month?) and a sudden spike of annoyance shot through Alma at that moment.

The Pedro in her head called it jealousy, even now over 30 years later but Alma refused to acknowledge that. She wasn't jealous of a rodent!

She was annoyed, so so so annoyed because these dirty little paws were skittering over her freshly sweeped floor.

Without really thinking about it, and oh, she should have thought about it, she wished she had thought about it long and hard before acting, she raised the broom over her head, determined to strike that vermin down, solving at least one of the problems, right there and then, once and for all.

Had she thought about what she was about to do, she would have been horrified. She didn’t kill! Even all those years ago she had brought those rats outside alive. Killing them had never even crossed her mind before that fateful day.

Hours later, in her room, staring at her candle, not blinking once, she was able to convince herself that she hadn’t really wanted to kill that rat. She just wanted to spook it a bit, to scare it away. A broom to that little skull wouldn’t have killed it, surely. Rats were resilient little things. It would have been fine.

“You know better!” Pedro hissed in her ear. “You know what would have happened!”

It didn’t happen.

Not because Alma came to her senses and stopped.

It didn’t happen because that was the first time Casita acted against her.

Her ears still ringing from her childrens shouts of “Mama!” and “Please no!” Alma was about to strike down when the tiles beneath her feet startet to shudder and groan. Suddenly they moved backwards, janking her with them. She lost her balance and fell backwards, broom and all, and landed painfully on her rear. Today, that fall would have broken her hip. Back then it merely bruised and humiliated her.

She rubbed her back, disoriented and only noticed the silence when it was broken by a sob so loud, she thought her ears would start to bleed. Alma looked up to see Bruno, holding the unharmed rat in his arms, tears streaming down his face and staring at her with a look in his eyes, that she would never forget.

No mother could ever forget a look like that.

She averted her eyes and concentrated on the crack on the floor her fall and the moving tiles had created. She sat there and started at it, long after Bruno had run from the room, his sisters following him without even asking their mother if she was alright. She stared at it for a long time, wondering why Casita wasn’t fixing it until she grew cold on the floor and got up to retreat to her room, her eyes not meeting Pedros portrait on the stairs.

She forgot about that crack soon. It was still there but it was small and unassuming and all too easy to ignore.

If she hadn’t, maybe she would have remembered that crack over 30 years later. Maybe she would have realized that that was the first one.

The first crack.

That day, in that kitchen, is where it all started to go wrong.

*******

She had apologized later. Of course she had.

Her Bruno had accepted the apology. Of course he had.

But he had never looked at her the same. He had never lost that new nervousness around her, never stopped watching her every move like she was a snake about to strike.

If that incident had accomplished one good thing, it was that her Brunito was a lot more careful to keep his rats out of her sight at all times. After that day she barely saw them anymore and if she did catch a glimpse he would practically jump to scoop them up and away.

And soon enough other things demanded her attention. Her daughters and their suitors and soon after that the first grandchildren.

Despite everything, she had thought a lot about Bruno during the 10 years he had been gone but she hadn’t really thought about his rats, her mind shied away from them for some reason.

Still, she was less surprised than she should have been to see them again when her Brunito finally returned to them. To realize, that they had never left him (he had never left them! he had never abandoned them like he’d abandoned his own mother!).

They were easy to ignore during the rebuilding. Bruno kept them near or asked Antonio (who stayed away from the heavy lifting most of the time) to keep an eye on them, probably scared to death that they would get crushed or trampled under all those people milling around.

And then Casita came back and life slowly returned to normal. Well, a new normal, with more breaks and more room for the things the Madrigals wanted to do instead of things the town needed them to do. The town took to the changed dynamics with grace and even a strange kind of naive enthusiasm, like kids that were finally allowed to do things on their own. Alma was glad the town adapted so well and also very proud but the change was hard for her.

Her first impuls upon seeing Luisa sitting under a tree with a book in her hand was still to scold the girl for her laziness and to send her into town to see if anyone needed her help. Thankfully she managed to reign herself in most of the times and when she failed, Mirabel was right there, reminding her that things were “different” now.

Alma tries, she really does! But “change” had always been a red flag to her. Change means having to leave your home in the middle of the night. Change means, having to watch the love of your life die way too young.

She craves routine. She wants things to stay the same. There is safety in boring routine that the younger generation just doesn’t understand.

So when a rat runs between her feet as she is one afternoon alone in the kitchen, sweeping, her first thought is “Some things never change” and it actually brings her comfort.

The rat stops and stares at her, nose and whiskers twitching. Does she imagine its resemblance to that rat from back then? Probably. They all look the same to her.

She still doesn’t like them but she has made a point about not glaring at them either. Her reward is a Bruno that seems to relax around her more and more every day.

Nonetheless, those beady little eyes unnerve her.

“Why are you still here?” she asks, not so much the rat itself since she doubts it will answer. “Why are you still with my Brunito?”

“Because they love him!”

Alma whirls around and grasps her chest.

“Tonito! You scared your Abuela!”

Antonio has the grace to look apologetic. “Lo siento, Abuela!”

Alma sighs and side eyes the rat that is still staring at her. “Love him? Did they tell you that?”

“Uh-huh!” Antonio crouches down in front of the rat. He doesn’t touch it though. He never plays with or touches them unless he was able to ask his Tio first. “He saved their GreatGreatGreatGreat... well, many Great Abuelas and Abuelos once and their family has been with him ever since. They love him a lot!”

Alma blanks for a minute. These rats are the offspring of those flea-ridden half dead rats from back then? Alma feels like slapping her own forehead like she has seen Felix do a lot. Of course they are! All this time she hadn’t even thought about that but now it seems obvious. Rats don’t get 40 years old! How could she not have realized? Growing old in a magical home must have skewered her sense of what is normal more that she had thought.

“You know Abulea? They have been with him soooooo long. They are his familia too, aren’t they? Lucky Tio Bruno!”

Alma clutches the broom tighter. The rat is still staring at her, like it knows. Like it knows what she almost did all those years ago to its ancestor. To her sons family.

“Please don’t tell Antonio” she pleads silently. “He would never forgive me.”

The rat doesn’t move.

“Antonio, have you seen- AH! There you are Rosalie. Where have you-”

Bruno stops in the doorway, staring wide eyed between his Mama, the rat and the broom.

She can see it clear as day. The panic in his eyes, the way his heart must race at the sight he is facing because he never forgot. Of course he never forgot.

Her first knee-jerk reaction is, of course again, annoyance.

Does he think she will do it again? Didn’t she apologize back then? Hasn’t she apologized a lot recently? Sometimes it feels like all she is doing anymore is apologizing, to everyone. Can’t anyone see that she tries? Can’t they see that she changed?

When would the apologies be enough?

She looks down at that dirty, fat, disgusting rat and deflates.

Family.

Can you ever apologize enough for hurting someones family? Can you ever truly be forgiven for that?

God, she hopes so. She prays.

Alma turnes away from the rat, from those judging eyes and pretends she doesn’t hear her son frantically knock against the door before dashing to his rat to scoop it her up as soon as her back is turned.

“Guess Rosalie smells the cheese Isabela brought home yesterday.” she says and pretends not to care. Pretends that her heart isn’t still breaking over all the things she lost in this kitchen all those years ago. “Why don’t you take a little for you and your fa- friends.”

She can hear Tonito begging his Tio to let him help with the feeding, can hear her son saying “Ok, but only a little or they’ll get too fat” and she even hears Rosalie squeak at that, as if offended.

Alma meanwhile keeps sweeping, keeps blinking tears away, not turning around, not aknowledging the sounds behind her.

When something brushes her back, just for a second and feather light, she pretends that it was a hand. Maybe even a hand reaching out in forgiveness and not just simple graditude.

She is good at pretending.

**** Ok first of all, english is not my first language so please ignore weird commas and stuff.

I named that rat after Hernando because Hernando fixes the cracks and Rat-Hernando was the reason for the first crack. Symbolism Baby!

And also, I don’t think the cracks started with MIrabels ceremony, I think they started way earlier because that whole family needed therapy waaaay earlier.

Maybe I’ll upload this to ao3, let’s see how the reception goes.

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ttuesday · 3 years ago

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How would the VDL gang comfort/cuddle you if you had a bad day?

also have this fluffy foal 🐴

yay I love fluffy foal!!!! Since we all have bad days, I decided to do a little more than usual for this one so yeah this’ll probably be longer than usual :)

Arthur

-> The second Arthur sees you, he knows something went wrong but he waits until you’re away from the others to talk to you. In a low voice, Arthur asks if you want to go somewhere private before guiding you to his tent or to the outskirts of camp.

-> He doesn’t mind if you don’t tell him what’s bothering you or what made today so terrible. Without saying a word, Arthur wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug.

-> He slowly starts to stroke your hair and tell you that no matter what the problem is, you’ll figure it out.

-> Arthur reminds you of how strong you are and asks if you want to go do something with him tomorrow, whether that be robbing a stagecoach or drinking in a saloon or just going for a ride along the Heartlands. Whatever you want to do, Arthur will go along with it.

Dutch

-> Dutch asks to speak to you in his tent, pretending he needs your opinion on some upcoming robbery but when he closes his tent off to the others, he lets out a sigh and gives you a sympathetic smile.

-> “Want to talk about it?” he asks, sitting next to you on his bed. He understands if you stay quiet, not too sure of how to explain your bad day.

-> Dutch opens his mouth to say a quote from Evelyn Miller he thinks you might find interesting but he hesitates. He knows quotes won’t help right now and so instead he shuffles closer to you, putting his arm around your waist.

-> He’ll let you cuddle into him and he won’t move an inch until you’re feeling a little bit better, even if that takes all night.

Charles

-> Charles doesn’t really know what to do or say. But he believes that some times you don’t need words.

-> Whether you want to sit by the campfire or away from the centre of camp, Charles stays by your side. He knows you probably have some thinking to do so he stays quiet, a comfortable silence falling over ye.

-> Of course if you want to talk or rant, Charles will listen intently, taking in every word you say and every expression you make. And if there’s anything he can do to help, he instantly suggests it to you.

Bill

-> Bill isn't great with words. Everyone knows that. So don't expect him to give you this great motivational speech that will give you high hopes and make you feel like you a superhero.

-> Chances are Bill will just start rambling about something random like how he’s thinking of buying a new saddle for Brown Jack or how he found a piece of chocolate in his beard the other day.

-> His ramblings are a good distraction and Bill has no problem if you want to lean against him as he continues to talk. He’s very warm and cozy so it makes sense if you fall asleep on him.

Javier

-> Javier will try his absolute best to make you feel better. He spends the evening comforting you as best he can and if you still feel bad, he’ll suggest the two of you go on a job.

-> He knows of a homestead you can both rob, it’s easy pickings and he hopes it will help you focus on something and lift your spirits.

-> Who knows, maybe ye can spend the night there to have a break from everything. Javier will spend the night spooning you and whispering his favourite things about you into your ear... though he might ask to be the baby spoon at some point during the night.

Micah

-> Micah suggests that you have a drink with him in the hopes that’ll make your day a bit better. As you sit down at one of the tables at camp, Micah brings over a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

-> He can be very blunt so don’t expect a lot of great comfort or immaculate advice but he will listen to everything you say. Even if he acts like he isn’t listening, believe me, he is.

-> Towards the end of the night when he’s feeling a little more confident than usual (thank u alcohol) he’ll offer you a comfortable seat on his lap. Really he just wants to cuddle in the hopes it’ll lift both of ye’re moods.

John

-> John can be kinda hopeless in situations like this. He’s very awkward but if you need a hug or someone to talk to or a cuddle, then he’s happy to help.

-> If you start to cry, there’s a possibility John will die of awkwardness because he doesn’t know what to do or how to react. His brain may go into shutdown mode.

-> but he will stay there with you for as long you want him there. And he’ll try his best to make you smile again, whether it be with a cuddle, kiss or his dry sense of humour.

Sean

-> Sean's angry. Not at you, he could never truly be mad at you, but Sean presumes your bad day is someone's fault. Before you can explain why you've had a bad day, Sean's loading his revolver and whistling Ennis over so he can go shoot whoever has upset you.

-> If you want him to go kill someone then off he'll go on his mission but if you need him by your side, he can do that too. Because this is Sean, he basically clings to you as he fusses over you.

-> This man will spend the entire night giving you kisses, cuddles, maybe something more *wink wink*. He’ll give you the best advice he can think of and whatever else you need in the moment.

Lenny

-> Lenny hates it when you've had a bad day. He never wants to see you upset or sad, it breaks his heart to see you like that.

-> He gives you a long hug, slightly swaying from side to side. He's also really eager to help you in anyway he can. Want to go on a job to take your mind off it? Let's go. Need someone to tell you you’re an amazing person? He's confident he'll do a great job at that.

-> Be warned though, Lenny can be an emotional fella. So if you start crying, he might start crying too just because you're crying.

Uncle

-> Everyone knows Uncle likes to joke around. When things get tough, he likes to make a joke and laugh about it.

-> So when he heard you had a bad day, he tried to lighten the mood with some jokes. He makes jokes about himself, your shitty day, anyone who passes by and Dutch's speeches.

-> If the jokes aren't working then Uncle tries to say something genuine but he can't help himself and gives it a comedic spin at the end. But he hopes you know he really meant the genuine part.

Trelawny

-> When Trelawny hears you're having a bad day, he doesn't think it's anything to worry about. He thinks he can cheer you up with some magic.

-> He puts on a small show for you, making birds magically appear and finding a bouquet of flowers behind your ear. But Trelawny knows that isn't enough.

-> He sits down next to you and asks if you want to talk. Trelawny is one of the best listeners in camp, he'll listen and try his best to comfort you in whatever way you want. He'll even ask if you want to pet one of his birds.

Hosea

-> No matter what your problem is or whether you want to talk about it or not, Hosea sits down with you. His first concern is to try and make you feel as relaxed and comfortable as possible.

-> He will bring you whatever you want, go wherever you feel most comfortable. Anything you need, he will try his best to provide.

-> If you need to have a good cry, Hosea hands you his handkerchief and tells you to let it all out. There’s no point in hiding your emotions now and he assures you that tomorrow will be a better day.

Tilly

-> Tilly’s great because she’ll let you vent about your bad day but she also knows when to stop you. She wants the best for you and won’t let you rant all day about pointless things.

-> If you start to spiral, she stops you and tells you to let it go. You’ve complained about your shitty day but it’s important not to dwell on it.

-> Before ending the conversation, Tilly gives you a firm but understanding hug and lets you know that she’s here for you if you have another bad day.

Sadie

-> Sadie can put up with a lot of life’s shit. But seeing you upset and feeling miserable? It makes her feel frustrated and pissed off.

-> She’s had some terrible days so she knows the best thing to do is get a blanket, a hot drink and bring you somewhere quiet. Sadie wraps the blanket around you and sits with you.

-> She brushes your hair with her fingers and she softly asks you how you are. It’s strange to hear Sadie talk so softly but in a way it shows you how much she cares and wants to help

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rabidpotato · 4 years ago

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I have Castlevania brain rot send help

Ho boy. I have FEELINGS.

Season 4 spoilers and (longwinded) Discourse(TM) below the cut

A happy ending? In MY Castlevanias? It’s more likely than you think. With as grimdark as the series has been I fully expected to have my heart torn out and shat on, so to get an actual satisfying happy ending was a whole lungful of fresh air. Gimme that sweet sweet rush of Everybody Lives Nobody Dies, I need that shit pumped straight into my poor serotonin-starved brain.

What a hell of a season. There was enough material there for at least two seasons (and I would have LOVED to have two seasons, but that’s just because I’m greedy and want more…) and I was skeptical that they could even try to wrap up all those threads..and then they DID IT. Hot damn.

Hot Takes:

In this house we stan Greta and will tolerate no disrespect against our sword-and-hammer wielding queen. I love her, and I love her and Alucard’s dynamic with the deliberate parallels to Dracula and Lisa. I think she’s good for him.

TREVOR AND SYPHA UGH I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH I’m out here crying ugly tears at how much this stinky himbo and tiny nuke love each other ;______; Battle Couple OTP.

I would watch the shit out of an entire season of everybody building the new village and Trevor and Sypha learning how to be parents and Alucard and Greta getting closer and everybody just being HAPPY. This is because I am trash, not because there would actually be any storytelling value in such a thing. Same thing with onscreen kisses between Trevor and Sypha. Is it necessary? No. Doesn’t mean I don’t want it. But hey, that’s what fandom is for, right? I’ll just be over here drawing beetus-inducing fluff and being vaguely disgusted with myself.

Papa Trevor would be so soft. I think my ovaries just exploded.

I 100% expected Trevor to die and leave Sypha grieving and pregnant with the way they teased it in the trailer and the way it would have thematically fit with the rest of the series, and I am SO GLAD he didn’t. I’m tired of sad endings. I really love that he gets to be part of this world of people who know how to build things.

“I love you.” “I know.”

That single flash of Sypha’s face as he’s fading out knowing he’s going to die and being at peace with it, augh my fucking heart. T_T

Horse is secret MVP. That horse knows things.

Isaac confirmed for a) stand user and b) monster fucker. King out here living his best life, you love to see it.

But for reals tho, Isaac’s arc was one of my favorites. Nice fakeout with the conquest line in the trailer. The philosophical discussions on the nature of humans and night creatures, the way he comes to realize that he (and Hector, and by extension his own night creatures) is/are more than a tool to be used in the hands of others, the way he reclaims his own agency and decides he’s going to live...I fucking loved it. (Also paves the way for post-series forgehusbands…)

SO FUCKING HAPPY FOR STRIGA AND MORANA. I was holding my breath expecting them to get horribly killed the entire time and then they just...weren’t. The hot vampire wives got to literally ride off into the sunset (sunrise?) together, in a way that made sense. The General and the Organizer looked at the data on the ground, discussed, and made the calculated decision to stick with what really matters to them, not just Carmilla’s ambitions. More of this, please! Would have loved to see Striga fight more than once, though. Also I would shank a man for Morana’s cape.

Respect for Carmilla for going out on her own terms, even if it did feel a little heavy-handed. The cinematography of her and Isaac’s fight sure as hell made up for it though- that was one of the prettiest fights of the series.

Reunited trio’s fight was the other prettiest fight of the series. Holy fuck, what gorgeous animation.

I actually liked that St Germain’s lady friend never spoke- it reinforced the way that he has mythologized her to the point where she’s not even a person, just an ideal. It was also exactly what he deserved that she turned her back on him in the end. She’s just not that into you, bro.

Varney is a hoot. A greasy, flea-infested slimy hoot. Nice twist, too. Death’s design is *chef kiss*

Loved the themes of moving on and rebuilding and change and how there’s a pretty clear split between the people who are able to adapt and change (and live), and those “relics of the old world” who can’t or won’t. Ratko was criminally underused in this respect. I think there just wasn’t enough time.

Quibbles:

Pacing. I know Castlevania is notorious for uneven pacing, but in this case I think this is on Netflix- they should have been given a full two seasons to wrap this up, just to give things a chance to breathe. As it was, though, I think the writers did the best possible job given the constraints they were under.

Zamfir should have lived to learn the lesson about caring for the people who are still alive, and been the one to take charge of rebuilding Targoviste for the living. Having her die was straight-up pointless in a predictable way.

Did Trevor just straight-up forget he has TWO weapons with range when fighting Ratko? You have like a 30 foot reach what are you doing bro

Lenore is Problematic, and I wish there had been more tension between her and Hector. Like, I know Stockholm Syndrome is a thing, but he’s weirdly chill with her in a way that glosses over just what she did to him. Also I would have liked to see more self-awareness of “Oh, being a pet in a cage really is shitty, no matter how nice the cage. Now I know why what I did to you was wrong” before she dips. Her ending sure was poetic, though.

Wasn’t Trevor’s left arm broken in that last fight? How the heck is he even able to use it at the end? Also damn dude it’s been two weeks you should probably at least have washed those gaping wounds by now. Do you want sepsis? Because that’s how you get sepsis.

Unpopular Opinions:

Look I love Dracula/Lisa as much as the next shipper but “Hey we’re alive again for some reason!!” was totally out of left field. It felt like something out of a fix-it fic and it was just kinda baffling and jarring. Also go see your fucking kid, jfc you two are terrible parents.

Is Lisa just...kinda fine with the fact that Dracula tried to commit genocide in her name and almost killed their son? That must have been an awkward conversation.

I’m actually cool with Alucard spilling his life story to Greta on the march. He’s starving for human interaction, who’s to say he wouldn’t just want to TALK about what he’s been through? It’s treated in a way that’s a bit flippant for my taste, but we’ve seen enough of his trauma onscreen. I want to focus on his healing.

I’m hesitant to kick this particular hornet’s nest, but I really don’t think the ot3 has to be sexual? If it is, it damn well be an ot4 polycule with Greta. I see them more as two couples that are close friends and found family. But that’s the great thing about fandom! Rock on, shippers of all flavors, there’s room enough for everybody.

In Conclusion (jesus fuck how much did I write)

Castlevania pretty

Have you seen my braincell I think I misplaced it

Moar plz

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hyatoro · 3 years ago

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Childhood Friends Pt 2

Part 1

Forewarning I did not do Tatanka’s prompt. It’s me analyzing him and talking about how little info we have on the dude. Don and Panther are filled though.

Donald Oberman (Mr.Don)

Since the president was only “recently elected” (in the manga) he likely didn’t become the “President’s son” until the past year or so. That being said, Arnold Oberman was definitely some sort of politician until he got elected. You can tell by the way Donald behaves now that he was never low or middle class. Maybe he’d describe his family as “upper middle” class, but we all know that people don’t know what that means. He’s upper class and he acts like it too. What I’m trying to say is that these bitches don’t know what broke tastes like.

Don went to a private school basically his entire life. He didn’t stay in one of those residential ones, just the day schools. This is where you met him. You had to have met him in early childhood. It’s not that he wasn't sociable but you can tell that while he does have peers he doesn’t have many people he considers friends. But you guys started out with the simplest “lets be friends!” because that’s how easy it was as kids.

Though there are times where the friendship seems one sided he’s just as ride or die for you as you are for him. You offer a different perspective for him all the time and even if he thinks your opinion is dumb he rarely thinks it’s pointless. It’s actually interesting for him to think about why you see things a certain way when you two grew up so similarly.

Even though he’s 100% an underage drinker he doesn’t pressure you if you make it clear that you don’t want to. If anything that just means more good stuff for him. Does get drunk in your presence but not so much that you’d need to physically support him. Just enough to vibe.

I’m also going to say that you guys made a bet on what his jersey number should be and he lost and that’s how it became 69.

Patrick Spencer (Panther)

I just reread the manga and his parents broke up and the one taking care of him passed away, and that’s how his grandma ended up being his guardian. Double checked and yeah. “Separated from his parents through divorce and death” Volume 36, Chapter 323.

Completely different from Don, Panther absolutely knows what broke tastes like. But he’s such a good natured boy that he doesn’t let it dampen his spirits. And with the way I know his grandmama raised him she did her best to make sure he didn’t feel the worst of it. Your family wasn’t in as bad of a financial state, but enough where you’d go to school with him or see him around the neighborhood. You guys would love to play catch together and whenever he practiced his running once he became interested in football you’d be the one to time him.

Your family would invite his family over every other week for dinner and his grandma would make sure he was always in his nice clothes. His family would return the favor, but it was usually just you coming over and enduring his grandma’s oatmeal. The adults knew how it looked, but his grandma was grateful that they’d let her feed you as some sort of exchange. Ever hear about how some lady would always ask for salt from her neighbor despite already having some so that the neighbor would feel better about asking for anything they needed? Same concept.

When Panther was getting shit on by Apollo you were so close to getting in a screaming match with the racist fucker, but luckily Panther calmed you down. You understood his logic, but it still broke your heart nonetheless how Apollo treated him just because of his own stupid reasons. You were also his biggest cheerleader when he started making huge strides towards his dream. You try to make it to most of his games, at least early on, and he always has a ticket and a high five for you no matter how the game goes.

Tatanka

This man has NO information. Literally the least info of all the Pentagon. Also he’s not 7 feet like the wiki states. 210cm is 6ft 10 ½ in. A little more. But not 7 feet. Still tall as fuck though. Tall enough that that’s all the info we have on him excluding his game stats. I had to go and reread AGAIN to get any info on what he’s like. So I will be recapping bits of what he’s like as a refresher for all of us instead.

100% spoilers below if you haven’t finished Eyeshield 21.

When Gao and Don first face off Bud starts betting on who would win. Bud places 50$ and then Tatanka says he’ll go for 3000$. This can be multiple things. He has that kind of money. Or he doesn’t have that kind of money and he’s just saying it for fun. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did because everyone else in the pentagon aside from Panther has money, but he could also just be from a middle class family and is just shouting that high number because 1) it’s a joke, and 2) that’s how confident in Don he is.

When he knocks down Kid’s pass he taunts Monta by wondering why he thought he could compete against Bud. Then he proceeds to say bullshit about how the it’s not a game but a slaughter show for the US and how it wasn’t an arena for them, who are “physically inferior” to compete anyway. Apparently he was speaking weird and Panther pointed it out. Turns out he was trying to be like Don and learn multiple languages at the same time, thus confusing words. Then he proceeds to taunt Kid by acknowledging his skill but then saying that he’d be number five, a substitute and how he can’t destroy his Human Dome. So he knows how to shit talk.

Don’t like the whole physically inferior bullshit, but the whole last American arc was hella weird with the physical comparisons. Especially “the run of a black man” shit that popped up so often. Like I get the whole underdog vibe and how yeah naturally asian people aren’t as big on average, but damn the vibes were weird. Still love Eyeshield 21, but it definitely has its flaws.

Panther wants to go 1v1 with Shin, but then stumbles back and is like “wait but if it’s linebackers then it’s Tatanka who’s the best right?” cause even though it’s a 1v1 he’s just clearing the air that Tatanka’s the best linebacker don’t worry right ok ok. And how he just wants to face off against Shin cause he’s a rival he respects. I love Panther. He's so cute. But then Tatanka responds with “Either way I can’t imagine how such a small man as that Shin should be a worthy opponent for you, Panther.” Again with the whole size difference means inferior thing, but I do believe that part of it is his faith in his teammates abilities. Like these past 3 instances of seeing him on screen have been of him being like yeah my teammates can crush you fuckers. Don, Bud, Panther.

Next panel we see is of him underestimating Musashi’s kick. How at 54 yards it’d be hard. That’s it.

He then gets absolutely played by Hiruma and Agon’s Chris Cross. He does borrow Don’s “it’s sad” quote. Literally saying “It’s a shame. If I had to say it like Don. It’s sad…” He then gets bamboozled.

Next panel of him is him talking about how Clifford dodged the triple blitz with a spin and how Clifford is faster than Agon.

And then the next is him talking about how Don can get up instantly after getting knocked down. How he’s a top class linemen and that’s why he can't be beat.

Then he’s starting to have a mental breakdown as the Japan team makes a comeback, claiming how the five men of the Pentagram are the five strongest men in the world. And then he gets shocked when Sakuraba and Takami do their tall pass. Then he gets even more frantic the closer things get.

So basically most of what we see of Tatanka is him saying that the Pentagon is the strongest and can’t be beat. A positive spin to this is that he’s confident in his and his teammates’ abilities. The other side to this is that he’s being arrogant, which really shows when he says all those “physically inferior” things. Part of it could just be his environment because everyone else also seems to think this way. He does respect those in the Pentagon and holds them to a high degree, most notably with Don. He just has this mindset of “I’m one of the best. I have to be the best.” and that’s a lot of stress to put on himself, which is clearly shown when he starts to unravel at the thought of being on par with people he so strongly believed were inferior. That may seem like a lot of text up there but that’s what it all boils down to. Justice for Tatanka. He needs more back story considering he’s one of the Pentagon.

Don is the President’s kid and has that rivalry with Gao. Clifford vs Hiruma. We love Panther. And Bud even has that movie star background to play into. Also Tatanka isn’t seen at the casino arc while the rest of them were there, though Panther and Bud were just watching Clifford. Though there is a possibility of the casino being owned by Tatanka’s family, what with all the stereotypes the final Eyeshield 21 arc has thrown at us. We don’t know though.

Honestly that’s probably the most someone has thought about Tatanka. Boy didn’t even get a full name.

#eyeshield 21 #eyeshield 21 x reader #donald oberman #tatanka #patrick spencer #es21 panther #mr. don #request #i already reread es21 like 3 days ago and even i had to go back and recap those little bits of tatanka #cause the things he said couldve just as easily been a side character talking from the sidelines #he deserves more info #all he has is being tall

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cainightfics · 2 years ago

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I just watched s4e4 and I'm terribly upset. Don't you think Tyrell's death was just for the drama? Of course, it showed his love for Elliot, but, you know, it was clear from his behavior even before that. Tyrell is impulsive and inconsiderate, especially when it comes to Elliot. But is he really so reckless as to break into Elliot's apartment and reveal the plan?

i agree that tyrells choice to give up and die seemed odd, especially considering that at the end of s3, he realizes hes been used by the dark army and wants revenge. i REALLY wished he had played a larger part in taking down whiterose. he would have been perfect for it—his new position at e corp, as well as his access to deus group meetings, put him in an excellent place to serve as a double agent for elliot. i agree the scene in elliots apartment seemed overly impulsive—tyrell should have tried to get elliot out into a public area to talk about his plan, but then again, he did also confess to murdering sharon knowles after breaking into elliots apartment in s1, so idk. i would imagine that the dark army were only watching elliot in s4, not tyrell, since elliot was the wildcard whiterose was constantly unsure about. thus, tyrell was likely unaware that the dark army could be following elliot, since they werent following him personally.

in terms of elliots storyline, though, tyrells death was important. its the first time in s4 hes actually pushed to cry. he openly sobs after tyrell dies, and cant wash the blood off of his hands. i think tyrells death (which was, in many ways, a sort of suicide—like you say, he took the dangerous side of the van to protect elliot, and refused medical help because he knew the dark army would be suspicious) really made elliot consider his own selfishness. tyrell was the only person who really loved him (excluding darlene, of course, but sibling love is different, and their relationship was also strained at the time) so to see him give up affected elliot. i think his choice to leave tyrell there instead of forcing him to get help/trying harder to save him really haunted elliot throughout the rest of the season. you can see this very explicitly in the final few episodes, but i wont spoil that for you.

so yes, i agree that tyrells end was weird. i think a lot of characters were hastily dropped in the beginning of s4, tyrell and angela being the most obvious. this is a shame, because i far preferred their storylines to doms, who got a lot of screentime in s4. angela and tyrell felt very complex in their motivations—theyve done horrible things, but you feel bad for them because theyve been so manipulated and influenced. dom, on the other hand, felt like a very upright and moral character to me. her greatest concern is protecting her family, and thats it. its a noble goal, sure, but eh, its pretty boring in comparison to two characters who have become cultish followers, believing in fantastical things like time travel and godhood, only to have their beliefs shot down as they are forced to realize theyve been played.

to be honest, i think there should have been 5 seasons. i also thought the whole introduction of the deus group felt odd and kind of silly. a lot of the shows complexity was pared back to make s4 fast and snappy. i sort of struggle to reconcile s3, which was so dark and despondent (think irving telling mr robot that attempts at revolution are pointless because the rich are financially cushioned from experiencing chaos), with s4, where things wrapped up so conveniently and easily. idk, thats just my opinion though. i appreciate s4 for being a whirlwind of a ride, and it has some of my favourite episodes of the series, but the season overall felt weak in comparison to s3 in terms of plot and character arcs. even worse was the way the show lost a lot of its political bite. s4 is basically capitalist realism. the problems are blamed on a small set of people, the deus group, rather than the system itself, which encourages exploitation. so what if you take down evil corp and whiterose? something else, maybe even something worse, will eventually rise to take its place. price even says this in s3, too—elliots vigilanteism and targeted attacks arent good enough, he has to inspire a full-on anticapitalist revolution.

i feel like a better ending for s4e4 is tyrell gets shot, elliot rushes him to the hospital in the crashed, but still working, van, and they have to scramble to clean up their mess afterward so it doesnt get back to whiterose. this would still force elliot to realize he does care about tyrell, while also keeping tyrell alive. i wont spoil anything for the rest of s4, because youre still watching it, but there are certain episodes later where i feel like tyrell could have been SO USEFUL in. tyrell was always such a mysterious but unfalteringly loyal character. i think he could have been a really great emotional force for elliot in s4.

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canonicallysoulmates · 3 years ago

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Just saw your post about the post phase 1 Marvel movies and the meme you used for CA:CW. So I'm here to ask and get you cancelled. What did you think about the movie? Are you Team Stark or Team Rogers?

........................................................I knew this day would come......okay, let's get me cancelled!

I hate this movie, I hate this movie with every fiber of my being. Watching it was torture, it as the longest 20hrs of my life. It was like living out one of those very confusing math problems I started this movie at 10am somehow 6pm rolls around and there are still 2hrs left! Coño cómo?! I watched this with my mom, and when we checked how much time was left we were left looking at each other like 'que carajo what twilight zone bullshit is this?' It's one of those Marvel movies that I am so glad I did not waste my money on, I wish I could get a refund for my time but I made my choice and I shall now have to deal with it.

I hate this movie for many reasons but I'm not gonna make y'all wait any longer for what you're really here for because I know what y'all really want to know is whether I am Team Iron Man or Team Captain America. When it comes to the political aspects ie. the Accords, I am Team Neither.

Now, I cannot get into a comprehensive debate about the Accords because the writers did a shitty ass job, in a 2 and a 1/2 hour movie that felt like a lifetime, at explaining what exactly the Accords are in the movie universe. Emphasis on the movie universe, because I have seen debates go on in this motherfucking fandom where some people will bring up aspects from the comics Registration Acts but we're not talking about the comics okay, we're talking about the movies! And they're two fucking different things! And the movie did a shitty ass job at explaining what the Accords are, and that's one of the reasons I hate this movie: that it's so badly written.

But back to the point, which is where I stand on the teams when it comes to the politics, I am Team Neither because ultimately they were both idiots on how they handled this, and I think they both have good points like yes the Avengers and other superheroes should 100% be held accountable if they fuck up, the fact that they are superheroes and the "good guys" doesn't mean that their actions shouldn't have consequences but at the same time Steve's mistrust of the government and concerns that the team and others could be weaponized are also valid so I think they both have good points when it comes down to it and the smart thing to do - and in my opinion what would have made a much better film- would have been to come together and make like a counterproposal, decide on amendments, try to ensure they can get a representative so they have a voice on the table.

So, there you go when it comes to the Accords I am Team Neither however when it comes to the characters and their actions I am 1,000% Team Tony. At the end of the day he wanted to do what was best for both people and for his team, he wanted to keep the team together because he knew they were stronger together, and he was thinking long term not short term.

And then there's Steve who is an asshole in this film and completely lacks self awareness, cause there's a scene in the film after they've found out about the Accords where Steve goes "that's because he already made up his mind" about Tony and I'm just like bitch so did you, pot meet kettle, Rogers you knew from the get go that you weren't going to sign those papers don't go acting different and then like- here's the thing Steve has some very good points when it comes to the Accords but one of his points is that the UN is filled with people with agendas and agendas change which true but also motherfucker you yourself have an agenda! The whole Sokovia mess is an example that they cannot be trusted to hold themselves or each other accountable because inevitably the time will come where they'll want to protect their team mate like we see in this movie Steve do with Bucky, or how he wanted to protect Wanda because he looks at her as if she were a child not an adult. Steve, you lot are not exempt from having your own agendas and biases.

And through pretty much the entire movie, he has this whole my way or the highway attitude like this man does not know the meaning of compromise in this film, and he has such tunnel vision for Bucky- and listen! listen, listeeeeeen, I get it, I don't judge Steve for making his bestie a priority; I understand that Bucky is incredibly important to Steve, that he's the one person who's gonna look at him as just Steve and not as the Steve Rogers, I get that he carries a guilt over what happened to his friend, I understand he misses him, I understand all of that and respect the ride or die game but goddamn he was so focused on being a good friend to Bucky that he forgot about everyone and everything else and was a shit friend to Tony.

Actually a lot of people in this film were shit to Tony for no goddamn reason but Steve was such a shitty friend not telling Tony about his parents, that was a shitty ass thing to do and listen! I know what some of y'all are thinking you're thinking some version of 'he wanted to protect Tony' shut the fuck up. No, no, that's an excuse and it's a cheap one, you know damn well that was a shitty thing for Steve to do and y'all know damn well you would have reacted the same way Tony did if someone who you thought was your goddamn friend knew about something horrible that happened to people that were important to you and they never told you; that kind of shit hurts, and finding out someone you thought of as a friend doesn't care about you as much as you care about them hurts.

And y'all know goddamn well how emotions work, you know emotions aren't gonna wait for the rational brain to kick in don't some of y'all go playing dumb as if you didn't know this shit. Same way deep down all of y'all know Tony was holding his punches, that man gave Thanos a fight and got some blood if he had wanted to kill Bucky he would have. Don't none of y'all motherfuckers try to play games and act like you don't know this info.

Steve was a shit friend to Tony. Period. The least he could have done is have some empathy or compassion towards Tony when he saw his parent's being killed- and I swear to motherfucking god to the person who is getting close to their keyboard thinking of saying he showed compassion by not killing him back the fuck away from your motherfucking keyboard what did I tell you about playing stupid, this is properly tagged, stay in your fucking lane. Some of y'all be acting as if it were still 2016 and we're gonna be talking about that too, anon wanted my opinion on this film so now I'm going off.

Back to what I was saying, in some ways Steve wasn't a perfect friend to Bucky either cause he kept looking at Bucky and thinking of the guy he used to know but Bucky's not that person anymore, he's been through a lot of shit and it feels at times like Steve didn't fully realize that.

I hate Steve in this movie, I wanna punch him in the throat; he's an ass, he thinks he's above the rules, he's unaware of his own flaws, he might be a good friend to Bucky but that's it. I don't blame Steve though I blame the writers cause they're the ones who wrote him this way; moving on from Steve, I wanna talk about Wanda real quick, I don't hate the character of Wanda but I do hate the way she was written in this film, I hate that the writers expect us as an audience to look at this adult and think of her as a defenseless child who should be exempt from consequences, I hate that instead of actually doing something with her and exploring some interesting dynamics they just give her an AI boyfriend and a pinterest quote which sounds nice but falls flat especially considering she says said quote as she uses her powers (which is what people are afraid of) to send her love interest down several floors of a building. They could have done so many cool and interesting things with her, shame they didn't.

Another thing I hate about this film is what it did to the fandom, and how it was promoted because it was very much promoted as a pick your fighter, pick a side type of movie and after this movie came out I feel like the divide between Tony fans and Steve fans grew toxically and the effects are still seen to this day like some people really do be acting as if it were still 2016 and attacking others for what side they went with or for who their fav between the two is, and I'll be very honest a lot of the hate I have seen has been directed towards Tony and Tony fans. I hate that, I hate when TPTB deliberately pits fans against each other cause it just encourages a toxic environment.

Let me think was there anything that I liked about this film- wait, oh my god talking about all these other things I hate almost made me forget the thing I hate the most about this movie: it's pointless. Its existence is unnecessary; the biggest aspect of this film isn't the politics of the Accords, it's Steve and Bucky and how far Steve is willing to go for Bucky and have him by his side...but Endgame exists. The end of Endgame turns this film pointless, because the only true point of this movie is the relationship between Steve and Bucky that's the biggest takeaway from the whole thing, but then you have the end of Endgame where Steve just leaves Bucky.

I hated this film before I saw Endgame but after.....I never plan to watch Civil War again but if I did I'm pretty sure I'd self combust cause I'd be so angry I'd scream every time Steve appeared cause that son of a bitch ends up leaving; tears the whole team apart only to end up leaving his friend behind in the end.

I hate this film, I hate everything about it, well that's not true I love the Tony and Peter stuff, but aside from a couple of things I hate this movie, someone give me time stone I'm eliminating it from the timeline.

So, there you go those are my thoughts on CA: CW.

In conclusion, I am Team Neither on the Accords, Team Tony on everything else, Steve I still like you but this movie demoted you in my eyes and makes me wanna punch you in the throat.

#i clearly had a lot to say #anon do you see the pandora's box you've opened #anti captain america civil war #anti civil war #anti cacw #steve rogers critical #pro tony stark #mcu negativity #mcu fandom critical #wanda maximoff critical #anti steve rogers #i'm not anti steve but i did say this post would be properly tagged #non spn #anon #ask #long post

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ruthiswriting · 3 years ago

Text

heart line

mp100 | serirei, reigen arataka, serizawa katsuya, kageyama ‘mob’ shigeo, AU, 6k | on ao3

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

this is pretty fluffy, only real tw is some self deprecating depression thoughts from seri.

One day, when he comes into work, Serizawa sees Reigen industriously spreading a new poster on the wall, next to the monthly specials.

“Oi, Serizawa,” Reigen says, head half turning, first in acknowledgment, then in focused interest. “Come help me finish putting up this poster— I can’t get the last corner. Or well, I could,” he allows, stepping away from the wall as Serizawa approaches, “but I don’t want to get the step ladder out of the storage closet, it’s always such a damn pain to dig it out. You had really good timing, you know…”

Serizawa comes in at the same time every day, so he hardly thinks it counts as good timing, but he doesn’t say anything. Reigen passes over a thumbtack that he’s been holding between his teeth— a terrible habit, one that always makes Serizawa’s stomach start doing awful twists when he sees him doing it— and Serizawa takes it, stepping to the wall.

The poster’s half up already, it’s really just this one corner that’s a bit awkward to get to behind one of Reigen’s potted plants. He smooths the corner out, hesitant, and carefully pushes the tack in.

“A little up,” Reigen directs from behind him, and even though Serizawa can’t see him he can feel the way Reigen’s head tilts to look under Serizawa’s stretched arm. “It needs to be straightened out— ah, the other side’s falling out, can you get that too? Serizawa! The bookshelf, watch it.”

After a few more tweaks, Serizawa finally manages to pin it to the wall in a way that satisfies Reigen. Serizawa runs two fingers over the slightly wrinkled corner— he can’t remember if it was already slightly bent, and he swallows nervously. But if Reigen notices, he doesn’t say anything, humming appreciatively. “Right. This’ll be good, people will walk in and see it with the monthly specials.” He stops, hands drumming on his hips. “Unless it should go on the far wall, while they’re sitting during the consultation? It works well as an add on, so maybe if they see it there it’ll drive more sales…”

Serizawa’s slowly processing the actual contents of the poster as Reigen hems and haws to himself. The center of the poster’s occupied with a giant stock photo hand, with arrows helpfully pointing to different creases and hills in the flat palm. A nauseating array of colors pinwheel around it, making it difficult to look away from once your gaze has drifted to it. PALM READINGS, the banner across the top screams out. LEARN ABOUT YOUR LIFE, LOVE, AND FORTUNE. Then, explosions of price points decorate the bottom.

Belatedly, he realizes he saw Reigen working on the poster yesterday during a slow hour in the office— slowly dragging together clip art in a way that he found appealing. Serizawa had avoided asking questions, since Reigen would then want his opinion on the poster, and Serizawa didn’t have the slightest clue about anything to do with design. Now, he could actually understand the poster for what it was.

“No, better to leave it here,” Reigen decides, bringing Serizawa out of his reverie. “Now, I’ve just got to add it to the website.” He sighs, scratching his cheek. “Damn builder’s always so tedious to fiddle with.”

“I didn’t know you could read palms, Reigen-san,” Serizawa says, still staring at the poster.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I read a couple articles about it over the weekend,” Reigen says, starting back to his desk. Then he half turns back, adding, “when you get to my level, it’s easy to pick up this kind of stuff, you know— it’s good to buff out your skills, too. Sort of…” He spins a hand in the air as he thinks. “Expanding your resume.”

Serizawa nods. This makes sense to him. To Serizawa, Reigen’s never had much of a recognizable aura— or really, he thinks privately, any recognizable ability at all. But he has a very long list of clients, successful exorcisms, and the attention of the most powerful psychic that Serizawa knows, besides maybe the president. Not to mention the entirety of CLAW’s former 7th Division’s admiration and respect. All of those people can’t be wrong, Serizawa reasons, so it must just be something that he’s missing. Serizawa misses a lot of things. And as Reigen’s repeatedly told him, his powers are just more spiritual, so him picking up a new ability with some light reading seems perfectly reasonable. “One of my classmates talk about learning coding a lot, since that’s good to have on a resume,” he says. “So it’s kind of like that, maybe.”

“Well,” Reigen pulls a face as he drops into his desk chair. “That’s a different kind of resume.” He swivels to his computer. “While I’m updating the website, Serizawa, can you look at the client list for the day?”

Serizawa hastens to look at the digital calendar that Reigen’s set up on his phone. “There’s a consultation in the morning, at ten,” he says. “Two massages in the afternoon… An exorcism at four.” Serizawa will be gone by then. Kageyama will be assisting with that exorcism— Reigen’s marked that on the calendar too, although Serizawa’s not sure Mob’s once looked at the calendar Reigen constantly refers to.

Reigen’s practically rattling the keyboard with the force of his typing. “Plenty of down time today, then,” he said. “I’ll be able to get this set up no problem.”

“Reigen-san,” Serizawa begins, awkward. “Should I…” Reigen’s stopped his punitive typing to stare at him, which always makes Serizawa’s words begin to stutter. He clears his throat and tries again. “To better assist the clients. Should I learn about palmistry, too?”

He doesn’t know why he asks. Most of the questions he asks feel pointless as soon as he says them, and this one’s ridiculousness is heightened by the way Reigen frowns. “If you want to,” he says, tone implying he’s not sure why Serizawa would. “I was planning on handling it, since it’s mostly interfacing with the clients, and you’re still getting comfortable there, but I wouldn’t stop you.”

Serizawa can’t stop the way his shoulders sink, and hurriedly, Reigen adds, “you’re doing fine, Serizawa— I’m glad you’ve got the initiative to ask about it. But I know you’re busy with your studies, so I didn’t want to take up your time unnecessarily. You’re already a great asset to the business.”

Again, Serizawa wants to protest, to say that really he should be doing so much more for Reigen than brewing tea and exorcising stray ghosts. But he shouldn’t argue with his boss, so he just nods, swallowing all of his words.

It only takes a few days for someone to take Reigen up on new special— a jittery looking college student with spectacles twice the size of her eyes. She comes about a necklace that she inherited from her recently deceased grandmother. Serizawa can’t see anything on it, and Reigen smoothly steps in to handle it. As he shreds rock salt over it and kept up a stream of gentle questions about her grandmother, the girl’s eyes roams over the wall, and she asks about the palm reading. Within seconds, Reigen has the lights dimmed, incense candles in Serizawa’s hands that are apparently his responsibility to light.

Reigen sits on the edge of his seat, face serious as he looks down into her upturned palm. She watches him with wide eyes. “It’s not so much that your palms determine your fate,” he explains to her, voice taking on a knowing, mystic quality. “It’s more that they’re a microcosm of reality… The big’s encapsulated in the small.” He draws one of his fingers along a crease in her fingers, barely a ghosting pressure.

As Serizawa struggles with the candles, the match in his hand finally catches, and the light blooms across her face. The beginning of a blush is striping across her nose.

“This is your head line,” Reigen says. Then his finger moves across another web. “Your heart line. Your fate line. And your life line.” For this last designation, his finger curves across the base of her thumb and comes to rest against her wrist.

“The life line,” she says, eyes wide. “I heard once that if you have a short life line, that means that you’ll die young.”

Discreetly, Serizawa peeks at his own palm, but he can’t track what any of the mess of creases are supposed to be when transposed onto his own hand. “Not necessarily,” Reigen says, shaking his head. “Your life line has more to do with your vitality. If it’s short or shallow, that’s not necessarily bad, but it might mean you need to make a change.” Reigen’s mouth draws into a frown. “…Have you been feeling disconnected from the people around you?”

“That’s exactly it,” she says, voice a relieved rush. “It’s been so hard, ever my grandmother died…”

The conversation streams on past Serizawa. He watches as Reigen gives her advice, her hand still resting comfortably between Reigen’s long fingers.

The palm readings only happen occasionally, but Reigen seems satisfied enough with their performance— like he said, it’s a nice add on. But on days when someone asks for one, they cling to Serizawa’s mind the entire train ride to his night classes.

Regardless of Serizawa’s perception of Reigen’s aura, he proves himself as a natural when he sits down with a client for a palm reading. No matter what he says, they always gasp in shock at how accurately Reigen’s pinned down their life with just a few sentences. Then, he’s immediately pinwheeling into advice on how best to fix their relationships, their jobs, their life.

He doesn’t like it. The idea that, just by looking at his hands, someone can accurately judge everything inside of him. Reigen never says anything bad about the clients, of course, but he’s sure that he has to see it. All of Serizawa’s mistakes are surely reflected in the creases of his hand— and he’s made a lot of mistakes.

Serizawa spends a lot of time staring at his hands on the train. They’re square in shape, with short, blocked off fingers, and a tangled mess of lines and mounds— what Reigen calls the bumps of flesh on the client’s hands. He doesn’t know what any of it means. He doesn’t think it could be anything good.

The train rumbles under his feet, and hurriedly Serizawa tucks his free hand under his armpit. Like if it hand is out of his sight, the obsessive thought might be too. It doesn’t stop his eyes from ghosting over everyone else’s hands, that all surely say much better things about them than Serizawa’s.

He’s not doing a good job of not thinking about the hands.

Mainly, he keeps thinking about Reigen’s, which doesn’t bode well for Serizawa’s attempts at professionalism.

Serizawa realized fairly early on that his feelings for Reigen exceeded the typical respect one should have for an employer. It even went past the gratitude that one should have for someone who saved Serizawa’s life— because genuinely, Serizawa thinks that Reigen saved his life by giving him this job, when Serizawa didn’t even have a high school education or any practical experience beyond being a reformed terrorist. Even if Serizawa’s managed to stop referring to every manual of business practice as inarguable law, enough of them reiterated the extreme inappropriateness of workplace relationships that Serizawa figured it was a rule he should stick with. Their cautions at power imbalances, lack of professionalism, and the inevitability of messy breakups bang around in Serizawa’s mind every time he looks at Reigen.

Of course, it’s not like Reigen would want anything to do with Serizawa even without these restrictions. Reigen’s a good, helpful person, and he saw that Serizawa was in a bad spot, and wanted to do something about it. That was all. So, it’s up to Serizawa to draw a professional boundary. If he maintains a distance, that’s better for both of them— Reigen won’t have to deal with Serizawa’s messy, inappropriate feelings, and Serizawa won’t get hurt.

But the palm readings make that so much harder than necessary.

Reigen has nice hands, and he takes full advantage of them in every moment. They accent every word that Reigen ever speaks, making his case for him before he’s even begun a sentence. And when Reigen’s hands are making an energetic arc across the room, Serizawa keeps finding his mind going back to the dim office— the candles flickering in the dark, the sweet heady scent of incense. Reigen’s hands comfortably enveloping his hands.

Not his hands, really. It’s only Serizawa’s hands in his flushed, distracted imagination. He wishes, very desperately, that Reigen wasn’t so dedicated to the atmosphere of his services, but if he’s being honest with himself, Serizawa probably would have the same problem if Reigen conducted palmistry under the boring office lights.

It’s just Serizawa’s embarrassing personal problem. It’s something he has to deal with on his own. Another misguided crush on his employer— except he’s so sure that Reigen would let him down gently it burns.

It’s a slow day in the office when Reigen says, tone casual, “Serizawa, let me read your palm.”

Serizawa’s pen jags across the paper. He’s doing homework, which he always feels guilty for, even though Reigen’s repeatedly told him it’s fine, even offering to help him with any assignments he’s having trouble with. Now, he’s punished for slacking on the job by way of an unfortunate ink splatter obscuring a section of his notes. Serizawa feels a static charge draw up around his ears, and he takes a deep breath as he settles the pen against the page. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,�� Serizawa says.

“Why not?” Reigen’s half out of his chair before he’s distracted by a loose set of papers about to escape his desk. He pins them down with a half full mug of tea, then continues his circuit around the desk. “We don’t have a client until later this afternoon, and it’ll be fun— enlightening, even. It’s a good team building exercise.”

He’s pretty sure Reigen just wants to put off the paperwork that he’s been complaining about the whole morning. It’s given him too much time to let his eyes drift across the room and watch Serizawa, probably monitoring any possible mistakes in his work. The palmistry poster’s right behind Serizawa’s head at his desk, so maybe that’s what made him think of it. Regardless, Serizawa does not want Reigen to be enlightened by anything about Serizawa. He clenches his hands into fists and sticks them under the desk, like maybe Reigen will forget about it if he can’t see them.

All the excuses collecting in his brain don’t make it to his mouth in time, and Reigen’s leaning against Serizawa’s desk. “Come on, Serizawa,” he entreats him, voice wheedling. “Don’t you ever unwind? It’s not bad to have a little fun when it’s slow.”

Serizawa can’t think of something less fun than his crush learning all of his secret and not-so-secret inadequacies while holding his hand. Plus, he’s sure that there’s something better both of them could be doing— that’s another thing the self help books harp on, that you can always find something to do to improve your workplace. But he’s not good at telling Reigen no. And so, in a matter of seconds, Reigen’s setting up the office as Serizawa watches, arms locked at his side.

“You don’t have to waste the incense candles,” Serizawa mumbles as Reigen energetically lights a match.

“It’s not a waste,” Reigen says firmly. “Anyway, I do my best readings when there’s a proper atmosphere.”

Since there’s no way to get out of this, besides maybe running straight out of the office and never coming back, Serizawa sits down at the table where Reigen always ushers their clients and waits. Reigen draws the blinds shut and then sits across from him, wiggling forward in his chair.

Reigen’s thighs sandwich the low table between them, pressing close enough for their knees to touch. Even though he’d dreaded the low lighting before, Serizawa’s abruptly grateful for the fact that Reigen can’t see the way his face heats in the dark.

And then, Reigen’s hands are taking his.

His hands are cool, maybe even a little clammy. They rest calmly against Serizawa’s over-hot skin, and Serizawa’s sure Reigen can feel the way that his pulse is rampaging in his wrist. Even before the palm reading’s begun, Serizawa’s hands apparently have the ability to betray him. He tries to swallow his nerves, again, force it all down. He can control himself, even if he’s feeling scared and lovesick. He’s not the person that he used to be.

Serizawa’s reminding himself of all of this, when Reigen says, very seriously, voice a low murmur, “you’ve got nice hands, you know.”

“What?” Serizawa blurts. “No, I don’t.” And then he flinches, immediately berating himself for contradicting Reigen.

Reigen’s eyebrows rise up, vanishing under his bangs. “Sure you do,” he says, insistent. And then, he turns Serizawa’s palm flat, running one electric finger around the circumference. “Square palm— short fingers. You’ve got earth hands. Means you’re reliable, Serizawa.”

Even though his brain is buzzing with this much prolonged contact— Serizawa’s not exactly had a lot of people spend extended time touching his hands, much less Reigen touching his hands— this sentence manages to drag him a little closer to reality again. Reigen just meant that comment in the context of palmistry, of course. He’s probably said similar things to his clients, even if Serizawa can’t exactly remember him saying them in this moment. He breathes.

After waiting long enough to realize that Serizawa’s not going to say anything in response, Reigen returns to tracing the lines of his hands. “Look here,” he murmurs, moving one finger down the center of his palm. “You’ve got a pretty pronounced fate line.”

And Serizawa knows, immediately, that that can’t be right. He’s heard enough of Reigen’s explanations to his clients to have learned that a deep fate line means you have control over your life— that outside actors don’t control your fate. Serizawa can’t think of something less likely to be applied to him. He feels his face sink, watching Reigen’s hand move, back and forth, over his own.

Reigen’s lying to him. He probably doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He probably wants to boost Serizawa’s abysmal self image, because Reigen’s good hearted like that. But it stings that he’d tell Serizawa falsehoods just to make him feel better, against something that demonstrably isn’t true. It calls into question every other good thing Reigen’s said about him.

“Aren’t you going to ask what that means?” Reigen’s eyes move up to look at Serizawa, burning holes in him.

Serizawa sucks in a breath that ghosts over his teeth. “Reigen-san…” He swallows, throat clicking. Every noise he makes suddenly feels so loud and over important when they sitting this close, without even the hum of fluorescent lights to drown it out. “I don’t really know if that makes sense, from what I’ve heard you say to the clients.”

Reigen’s eyebrows work together. “Your fate line can change over the course of your life, you know,” he says slowly. “Just like how you can change. It’s just a reflection of you.”

Serizawa lets his hand drop— it’s only Reigen’s interlaced fingers against the back of his hand that keeps his hand from knocking against the table. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, if I’ve changed enough to justify that.”

“You’ve made a lot of changes,” Reigen says, still insistently not letting go of his hand. His fingers interlace into a cradle, and Serizawa can feel the press of Reigen’s index finger on one knuckle. “You’re taking classes. You chose to leave a harmful situation, when it would’ve been easier to stay. You’re working here. Serizawa, you’re the one that’s taking charge of your life now.”

But even that’s a falsehood. Serizawa knows, deep in his bones, that he never would have left CLAW on his own. He never would have been able to see past the circumference of his umbrella and his own starry infatuation. The only reason he was able to leave at all was because of Kageyama, forcing him out of the fantasy he was living in, and Reigen, offering him a lifeline when Serizawa was sitting in the absolute rubble of his fake life.

“Serizawa.” Reigen’s voice is suddenly sharp. “Are you really going to doubt an expert spiritualist such as myself?”

“N— no, I didn’t mean—“

“Then accept it. You’re the only one in charge of your life. Let’s look at something else more interesting,” Reigen says, immediately shifting gears and ending the conversational thread. “Your heart line, it looks like it’s pretty—“

And this is something that Serizawa absolutely cannot handle. He yanks his hand out of Reigen’s before he can stop himself. “Reigen-san,” he said, voice climbing an octave. “I don’t know if that’s— appropriate.”

“Eh?” Reigen’s blinking at him.

“I mean,” he pulls his arms back, keeping whatever incriminating information is inscribed on his hands safely hidden. “Isn’t it bad to discuss… Relationships, in the workplace?”

Reigen tilts his head like Serizawa’s said something foreign. “It’s perfectly normal,” he says. “I help Mob with his relationships all the time.”

That’s obviously completely different, Serizawa wants to say, but the words won’t come. Suddenly, he’s seized with the idea— Reigen already knows exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. There’s probably a specific triangle of flesh on Serizawa’s hand that communicates, this person is in love with their superior, and Reigen’s seen it and knows. Serizawa feels the redness climbing all over his face. He can’t stop himself from looking down, palm turning up as he tries to find whatever betrayed him.

And immediately, Reigen’s grabbed his hand again. Serizawa feels his brain misfiring as Reigen yanks it closer. “Look,” Reigen says, eager. “Yours begins below your index finger, from the edge of your palm.” He indicates it, and Serizawa desperately wishes his heart would stop jackhammering in response. His pulse is loud enough to hurt his head, so surely Reigen can feel it pounding in his grip. “Means you’ve got a giving heart, Serizawa. It’s pretty short, so you’re introverted… But deep, so relationships are definitely important to you.”

“Aren’t they important to everyone?” Serizawa asks, floundering for any type of purchase in this conversation.

“Not necessarily,” Reigen says. “I mean, think about it— you’ve definitely met people who’ve put more work into relationships than others, haven’t you? But you value the people around you, so your hands reflect that. Maybe even…” His hand traces a crease, and he wiggles an eyebrow at Serizawa. “Value of a specific person? Someone you have in mind?”

Bone deep shame makes itself known from within Serizawa’s marrow. His fingers automatically curl inward, in an attempt to hide, and suddenly, without realizing, he’s holding the tips of Reigen’s fingers under his.

He expects Reigen to pull back, automatic, but Reigen doesn’t move at all. All Reigen does is go still, not meeting Serizawa’s eyes all of the sudden. His nose dips forward to look down at their hands, hovering above the table. It’s like he’s shy. Reigen is never shy.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” he says. “You’d be a good partner.”

He’s staring down at their hands, resting against the table, still not moving to pull his fingers away, or even to spread open Serizawa’s hand to continue his relentless assault of kind words. It’s like he’s perfectly content to rest there, long fingers trapped in Serizawa’s grip, which is probably too tight and not at all pleasant. Serizawa keeps waiting and waiting for Reigen to pull away, but he doesn’t.

Then, suddenly, the door to the office buzzes, signifying a walk in client. Reigen pinwheels away so dramatically he almost falls off his chair. A little pop of psychic energy spreads out from Serizawa’s feet, lifting everything in the office just an inch off the ground before it drops again. Serizawa stands, frantic, looking for something to do as Reigen hurriedly draws open the blinds.

It’s too late, though. The unexpected customer’s standing in the entrance, staring at both of them. “Um,” he begins, phone held lamely up. “I saw the sign outside, and I was wondering if I could ask about getting some spirit tags…”

Reigen recovers admirably, immediately pivoting into welcoming the customer and acting like it’s perfectly normal for both of them to sit around in the dark with only candles to see by. Serizawa guesses it’s not totally unreasonable— it is a psychic business, after all. You’d only know it was strange if you were a regular customer, and this man isn’t.

The only thing that betrays it as odd is the red blush that’s spread all over Reigen’s face, even staining his ears. It couldn’t be because of Serizawa, of course— it’s just that a customer caught him off guard. It has to be that.

Serizawa stares at the back of Reigen’s flushed neck, and wonders.

The rest of the day is tense.

It’s not exactly like Serizawa and Reigen sit side by side all day, but Reigen normally will get up and come see what Serizawa’s doing. He’ll hang over him as he supervises his work, or offer suggestions on whatever homework assignment he’s working on. In general, Reigen seems to dislike sitting still for long hours. He tends to pace about as he verbally puzzles through work problems to Serizawa, or Mob, or, probably, to an empty room. But after the palm reading, Reigen stays firmly confined to his desk, not saying anything at all as he still fidgets. Even when a client comes for an exorcism and he has to get up, Reigen maintains an exaggeratedly respectful distance between him and Serizawa.

The palm reading plays on repeat in Serizawa’s head, offering new mistakes for Serizawa to fixate on each time. The more they sit in silence, the more Serizawa’s completely sure that Reigen knows exactly how he feels. Why else would he suddenly become so shy? He wishes, fervently, that he’d just managed to keep it to act normally. Maybe if he hadn’t made such a fuss about the whole thing he wouldn’t have made Reigen uncomfortable. Now it’s even more obvious to Reigen where his feelings lie. It must disgust him, to have to deal with Serizawa’s sad, misaimed emotions— pathetically clinging to any basic kindness shown to him.

The whole afternoon, Reigen’s ears stay red as he works at his computer, only stealing glances at Serizawa when he thinks Serizawa can’t see.

He has to say something. He has to to apologize to Reigen for making everything so awkward. Maybe if he promises that he can control his feelings, that it won’t get in the way, things could go back to normal. Serizawa wishes the earth would swallow him whole. But it won’t— not without Serizawa splitting the earth open himself, at least. But if Serizawa wants to have any chance of reintegrating into normal society he has to deal with his feelings in an adult way.

Of course, Reigen beats him to bringing it up, as Serizawa’s dragging up the nerve to say something at the end of the day. He’s just stood, closing his laptop as he says, “Serizawa,” and pauses immediately, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, when you mentioned inappropriate workplace relationships—“

“I promise it won’t get in the way of anything,” Serizawa says in an explosive rush. “Please don’t fire me.”

Reigen stares at him, one hand still resting on the back of his neck. This is a look that Serizawa’s unfortunately gotten to know quite well. It’s the look that Reigen gives him when he’s said something unexpected. Serizawa’s begun to mentally mark it as a sign as conversational failure. “Pardon?”

Serizawa was really desperately hoping that Reigen wouldn’t make him actually say it, but that was looking less and less likely. “When you read my palm,” he stammers out, clutching onto the edge of his desk for dear life. “I know maybe not everything you saw was— appropriate, or maybe it showed something it shouldn’t, but I promise I won’t let it get in the way of working here. I can maintain professional boundaries, and… And…”

His voice trails as he dares to look back into Reigen’s face. It’s completely red again, naked surprise totally dominating his features. His hand’s gripping the back of his chair, like it’s stuck there. Reigen very rarely holds still, but in this moment, he’s completely frozen in place. By shock.

Abruptly, Serizawa realizes he was wrong. Reigen hadn’t seen his feelings in the surface of his fingers. But if he didn’t know about it before, he definitely, definitely knows about it now.

For a split second, Serizawa’s certain the office will collapse around them— his powers going rampant one last time to spare him this complete embarrassment. But all that happens is the furniture trembles, once. Serizawa supposes, under the part of his brain that’s screaming for death, that it shows he’s made good progress on controlling his powers.

He stands robotically. “I should go,” he says.

“No— no,” Reigen suddenly blurts, and he unsticks himself from behind the desk, racing across the office after Serizawa. “Serizawa, wait—”

Serizawa trips over his chair in his rush to leave, which gives Reigen the time to grab his arm before he reaches the door. It would be very easy to pull free and continue his frantic path onto the street and into the horizon, but the feeling of Reigen’s fingers digging into the side of his arm totally arrests Serizawa. He freezes, staring down into Reigen’s still beet-red face.

Reigen’s face is twitching in some kind of worrisome motion— he really looks like he’s about to have some kind of seizure, especially when his complexion is still so totally red. But finally, he manages to speak. “Our heart lines might not be so different, you know,” he says, voice wobbling just a little from— nerves? That can’t be right. Unless Reigen’s so totally disgusted by him that he’s nervous to be around him, now. But he’s holding on so tightly. Like he doesn’t want Serizawa to go.

Serizawa’s eyes slide away, not wanting to look at Reigen dead on, but then Reigen tugs his arm, insistent, trying to get his attention again. “Obviously, the qualities that we have, and the ways that we love— hypothetically— are very different,” Reigen says, voice gaining volume. “But, maybe similar things are revealed if you look closely. Just… A little closer.”

And then he doesn’t say anything, staring wide eyed at Serizawa. He’s clearly waiting for something, as Serizawa’s brain shudders to put the pieces together past every instinct that’s screaming at him to escape. Serizawa can’t conceive of a person being more different from him than Reigen. Any kind of similarity seems like too much to imagine. A similarity of the heart line? Maybe, Reigen has some of the good qualities he’s superimposed onto Serizawa, and that’s what he means. Or maybe— maybe—

Before he can stop himself, Serizawa’s hand slides up to grab the one that Reigen’s got on his arms. This time Reigen’s hand is damp with sweat. So is Serizawa’s, and he can’t imagine that it’s a pleasant experience for Reigen. Still, Reigen spreads his fingers, interlacing Serizawa’s fingers with his as they fall to the side.

“Just a little closer,” Reigen says again, voice almost a whisper as he steps into Serizawa’s personal space. The gap between their bodies narrows, and then vanishes, Reigen’s torso pressing against Serizawa’s.

It seems, impossibly, to be what Reigen wants. So before he can stop himself, Serizawa dips his head and kisses Reigen.

Reigen’s body leans up and into Serizawa, his free hand reaching up to touch his face. Underneath the fireworks happening behind Serizawa’s eyelids, there’s a moment of terror at Reigen touching his face— like he’ll find some patchy place where Serizawa missed shaving, or the pockmarked memory of an acne scar, and abruptly snap out of whatever insanity’s fallen over him. But Reigen touches his cheek gently, so, so, gently, and the fingers encircling Serizawa’s only tighten.

He’s sure, from any objective standpoint, it’s not a very good kiss— Serizawa’s never kissed anyone before, so his skills are probably awful. But it also means it’s the best he’s ever had. He never wants to come up for air.

Eventually, though, their faces break apart. Reigen’s face is still twitching a little, but now it’s up into an almost manic smile. Serizawa’s starting to wonder if the blush across Reigen’s face will ever subside. “This is,” Reigen begins, and then stops.

Reigen’s words rarely stop, and the silence stretches on for a few uninterrupted seconds until Serizawa realizes that genuinely, Reigen’s lost for words. A laugh threatens to break loose from Serizawa’s chest, but he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s laughing at Reigen. He only wants to express that whatever Reigen’s feeling, Serizawa understands. Completely and totally. It’s something he feels confident of when typically, Serizawa feels confident of nothing. So he just smiles, hoping that maybe, Reigen will understand too.

“I should have gotten into palmistry earlier,” Reigen says finally, and at that Serizawa can’t suppress his laugh. “Clearly I should screw around reading articles on the weekend more.”

“This wasn’t the reason you learned about palmistry,” Serizawa says, laugh still making his voice shake.

“Hell no,” Reigen snorts. “I just wanted to find another way to make a quick buck.” Then, immediately, he adds, “and also help our clients find out important truths about themselves, and the universe, of course—”

“While making a quick buck,” Serizawa says. It feels too joking, too disrespectful, but then, Serizawa’s just kissed Reigen. Reigen’s kissed him back. Worrying about professionalism seems suddenly pointless.

Reigen raises an eyebrow at him. “Sassy. Just don’t say that to the clients, Serizawa.”

His hand’s still clinging to Serizawa, gently swinging between them. Impulsively, Serizawa brings the hand up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Reigen’s breath pulls in, and Serizawa feels his face heat. He suddenly realizes that really, he has no idea what Reigen expects from this. They could be on completely different pages, Serizawa could be moving too fast, he could be doing everything all wrong.

But Reigen’s smiling at him. It’s a smile that he hasn’t seen before— totally unlike the dazzling grins that he gives his clients, and everyone he’s trying to convince to believe him. It feels different. The other smiles, Serizawa realizes, are something that Reigen puts on, in the same way that he puts on his tie in the morning. This one is real. This one is for Serizawa.

There’s a part of his stomach that’s still telling him this whole thing is a bad idea. Every chapter on workplace relationships he’s taken careful notes on is flashing on the back of his eyelids when he blinks. But, more and more, Serizawa’s realized that Spirits and Such is far from a typical office environment. Serizawa’s not a typical employee, and Reigen— wonderful, strange, perfect, Reigen— is not a typical boss.

When they walk out of the office, Reigen’s still holding his hand. Serizawa hopes, impossibly, that he never stops.

#reigen arataka #serizawa katsuya #serirei #mob psycho 100 #oneshot #fanfic

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hanjo-love · 4 years ago

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If Isayama was rushing to the end he could have rushed to avoid Hanjis death instead of calculating situations to create a scenario to kill her.

Oh anonie, my thoughts about this are all over the place, imma try to sort them out for you, so bear with me ❤️

First of all, I actually have 2 theories regarding Hanjo, which I believe Yams just dropped and glossed over. I can't decide which one of them is more plausible. So you decide.

My first theory is that Hanjo was ought to have her own little arc. In that specific arc we were supposed to find out more about her past, that's the reason she was the only main character left without a background. It was meant to be important to the plot. My guess is: Hange's arc should have been the "titan scientists arc" hence all the statements of Yelena, Pieck, etc. about Hange "knowing more about titans than the titan scientists in Marley". I've also realized they deleted every scene in the anime where they were talking about these scientists and tbh this only proofs the point this was indeed supposed to be an important part of the plot but Yams gave up on his initial idea (don't get me even started talking about the serum injections of the volunteers that were shown to us plenty of times but Yams never made use of that AND FOR WHAT?). Furthermore I believe Hanjo would have died in her arc, but Yams skipped the entire arc, so she had to die a rather pointless, unnecessary and rushed death in the end (the latter is actually not an opinion, but a fact, prove me wrong, her death was unnecessary af).

Now here's the second theory, which I actually prefer, because I'm a biased Levihan trash lmao but hey, this is not random and out of the blue, we got all the hints, so lemme explain: Hange and Levi should have ended up together (platonic or romantic, take it as you wish, but don't deny the fact they're BFFs/soulmates), therefore I'm sure Hange was supposed to inherit the beast titan. Okay so I won't go that far to point out all the hints we got from Yams for the "Hange beast titan theory" to come true (there are already plenty of posts and videos about it, lemme know if you want me to send you some links, I'll gladly do that. Also check out the tags here on Tumblr). As I was saying, leaving all the hints aside, the way Zeke died without us knowing what happened to his titan and Falco turning into a birb titan all of a fucking sudden are major plot holes and don't make sense to me at all (let's still keep our fingers crossed Yams won't gloss over these plot armors and explain them properly in the last chapter🤞🏻). So that kinda proofs the point that something is indeed missing.

Sometimes I feel like, if Yams really is riding the train of "there's no space for people over 30 in my story and Levi's only alive cause he's a fan favorite", he wouldn't have let Hange live for that long. He wouldn't have revived her in the serum bowl arc. So what exactly was the point? Was she only supposed to be the bridge commander between Erwin and Armin? Or is there more to it? Imo if Yams kept her alive for that long, she was meant to survive alongside Levi and the alliance (at least a part of it tho I don't think Jean, Connie and Gabi are done for, they'll surely return to human beings and live happily ever after lol). And as a result of this, it would have been the most normal and common thing in the world for Hange and Levi to "end up together" and spend the rest of their lives together in the woods after surviving this war and retiring later on.

So why didn't Yams draw it as initially planned? Cause *inhales* HE'S AFRAID OF THE FUCKING BACKLASH! There you go, I said what I said and I'm not taking it back. For the fandom living together means being romantically involved, ergo declaring a pair as canon and these morons fans aren't having it. They would've sent death threats to Yams' address or God knows what 🤦🏻‍♀️ "So what to do now?" Yams probably thought as he carelessly decided to remove his best written character, thinking he probably killed 2 birds with one stone, cause we were not supposed to find out he skipped at least one entire arc and that he actually kneeled down to the salty antis... But hey Yams, guess what? WE FUCKING NOTICED AND WE AIN'T HAVING NONE OF YO' SHIT ANYMORE.

TL;DR so basically what I was trying to say is: Yams either planned to kill Hange off "properly" after her little arc finished or he wanted her to live on with Levi as the last vets alive BUT HE FUCKING CHANGED HIS FUCKING MIND FOR GOD KNOWS WHAT FUCKING REASONS AND HE'S STRAIGHT UP RUSHING THE ENTIRE FUCKING FINAL ARC WITH SO MANY FUCKING PLOT HOLES WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY NOT HIS FUCKING STYLE AND I'M FUCKING STRESSED OUT lmfao

Thanks for reading my Ted talk lmao and thanks for bearing with me til the the end. Here's a cookie 🍪 and thanks for the ask anonie ❤️ this was really stressing me out, ngl haha I kept coming back to this after trying to sort out my thoughts, not sure if I've managed to do that tho 🤷🏻‍♀️😂

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yu-gi-oh-slavia · 3 years ago

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Principality of Ragusa Kneževina Dubrovnika

After the fall of the Venetian and Ragusan Republics in 1797, a man by the name of Domenico Buzignolo, the adventurous son of a merchant from the wealthy Buzignolo family of Ragusa, took advantage of the chaos and established himself as the first Prince of Ragusa, which encompassed the territory along the Dalmatian coast once owned by the two republics. Ragusa up to that point had existed as a client state of the Venetian Republic, but with the fall of Venice to the French, so too did the Republic of Ragusa fall.

Domenico’s reign was met with no small amount of confusion by the people of the new-born Principality at first, but by 1807, the date of the first official Census, the opinion of the people towards their Prince had become quite favourable.

Prince Domenico, against the fears of his many detractors from amongst the former nobility of Ragusa and Venice, turned out to be a very effective ruler of the small country, bringing in a good deal of trade, and protecting the country against outside threats.

One of his greatest and most lasting accomplishments was an alliance with the Principality of Albenga, marrying his eldest son and heir, also called Domenico, to Giulietta, the eldest daughter of Prince Emilio II Rafaele of Albenga. To this day, the two countries enjoy a great deal of friendship.

With the assistance of Albenga, Ragusa managed to weather its rough beginning, and established itself as a stable, prosperous nation, though many would call it something of a backwater, for they were known for their unusual conservatism; even during the Revolutions that swept Europe during the 1840s, Ragusa was largely unimpacted, though there were some rumblings of unification with the burgeoning Italian state in the 1870s and ‘80s; these unilateral plans, however, failed for the Italian state.

Prince Domenico I continued to rule until his death in 1821, when his son, Domenico took the mantle of Prince of Ragusa.

Suddenly, in 1831, a lasting policy of anti-Italianism was established by the Prince; this legislation is viewed by academics as the beginning of Ragusan nationalism. The policy outlawed the teaching of the Italian and Venetian languages which had been implemented under Venetian rule, instead mandating the teaching of the Dalmatian and Croatian languages. This policy would continue until it was abolished in 1921, 90 years later. During that time, the number of speakers of Venetian and Italian dwindled to nearly nothing.

It has been suggested by some historians that the reason for Domenico II’s sudden ruling was grief-induced mental illness brought on by the death of his wife and all his adult children while on a short boat ride on the Adriatic, though the consensus is not universal.

Whatever the case, Domenico would die from a convulsive fit less than six months after he enacted the law, though it would continue to be enforced for 90 years.

After Domenico II came Marino. Marino turned out to be something of a failure of a ruler, though not catastrophically so; he was quite young when he took the throne, being only 12 years old. His regents, though learned men, were not meant to given such authority, and they squandered it on pointless projects.

By the time he was ruled incompetent by his cousin, Biagio I, the son of Domenico II’s younger brother, Antonio, in 1837, the Principality was nearing bankruptcy. However, through some miracle, within a decade of Biagio’s ascension, the nation’s coffers had very nearly recovered to their former state.

Biagio I, unlike his cousin, is often lauded as the greatest of the Princes of the 19th Century; under his nearly 45 year reign, he modernised the military, established lasting facilities, such as the national academy, and many things besides.

During the reign of Biagio, the revolutions of 1848 swept through Europe. Through some miracle, Ragusa was untouched by the wave of revolution, and weathered the storm with only one minor incident, fomented by neighbouring Austria, who sought dominion over Ragusa and Dalmatia as a whole; their plotting failed.

One of the greatest feats of Prince Biagio I’s reign, however, was a successful defence of the Principality against the Ottoman Empire in the Ragusa-Ottoman War of 1857-58. Though he was not expected to be a great military leader, he managed to lead the Ragusan military to success after success, suffering only one defeat, and ending the war in only 17 months.

Exact details of the battles, and the war in general, are disputed and long debated, but the outcome is well-established to have been heavily in the favour of Ragusa, though no land was gained after their victory.

When Prince Biagio I died in his sleep in 1882, at the age of 67, the whole country mourned. His third son, Domenico, ascended to the throne as the third of that name (his elder brothers had both died before their father).

One of Prince Domenico III’s first acts was modernising the postal system, which would become a model for postal systems for many years to come. In commemoration, a stamp was issued bearing the likeness of Prince Biagio; in 2001, a surviving sample of this series of stamps was sold for an undisclosed price at auction, said to be the highest price paid for any single stamp in history up to that time.

Unfortunately, while Prince Domenico III’s reign was shaping up to be quite a good follow-up to his illustrious father’s, he died only 6 years into his reign, after a balcony he was giving a speech from collapsed under him during that year’s independence celebrations, killing him and about a dozen others.

Prince Domenico III was succeeded by his 14 year old son, Prince Biagio II. Unlike his predecessor, Prince Marino, Prince Biagio II had a strong support system around him to act as his regency council until he came of age.

After the turn of the century, Prince Domenico III echoed many of the things his distant cousin, Prince Alberto of Albenga, was accomplishing and putting into affect in his own Principality; namely, modernising the military once more. At the time, it was hailed as a folly; why did the tiny coastal country need a state-of-the-art navy and equipment for their military that had only seen one major war since independence?

However, those who called it folly would be shown the error of their thinking, when the Great War broke out in 1914. Much like Prince Alberto and Albenga, Prince Domenico III and Ragusa pursued a policy of neutrality, but nonetheless conducted intense training for the military and navy in case it did heat up for the small principality.

In the end, though, war did not come to Ragusa, though the Prince did send a small volunteer battalion to Albenga when they were invaded by Italy early in the war; in addition, there were a few small actions at sea between Ragusan naval ships protecting Ragusan shipping and attacks from both sides of the war.

In addition to these things, Prince Domenico III was also the prince who ushered in the electric era for the Principality, having the Royal Palace in Ragusa retrofitted for electricity in 1892, the first building to be fully wired (there had been a few buildings which were crudely wired before this event).

After the war, the Austrian Empire was divided, and the Kingdom of Yugoslavia was formed. Ragusa was asked to join, but the referendum failed with only 10% of the population voting to join Yugoslavia.

In 1921, Prince Domenico III died due to complications after a surgery to remove a cancerous tumour on his lung. His last act before his death was to repeal the act established by Domenico II outlawing the Italian and Venetian languages.

He was succeeded by his son, Matej, who, during WWI, had served as a Colonel in the Army, and was the only officer to lead any unit in combat on Ragusan soil during the war, when a small Austrian force in retreat wandered into Ragusan territory and began to fight, believing Ragusan soldiers to be the enemy. His battle experience taught him that war was changing, and, like his father, he continued to refit the military after he became Prince.

During the interwar period, Prince Matej built the Ragusan military into one of the premier militaries in Europe, though it was still, all told, a very minor country.

When again a world war broke out, Ragusa was unable to stay out of it like it had done WWI. Yugoslavia was invaded by Italy and Germany, and naturally, Ragusa also felt the brunt of Axis forces. In spite of the build-up Prince Matej had conducted, he had failed to see the prominence that aircraft would have in the future of warfare, and neglected to establish an air force, with the army’s Air Defence Corps consisting of only about 20 out-moded aircraft. As such, the country was overrun.

However, it wasn’t fully overtaken, and, like neighbouring Yugoslavia, the resistance to Axis forces was strong. The capital city of Ragusa never fully fell, and the armed forces regrouped there, putting up a strong defence.

Eventually, though, the war ended. Estimates for Ragusan lives lost range from 8% to nearly 20% of the population lost to the war.

Immediately after the war, Prince Matej initiated massive works on the infrastructure of the country that had been destroyed. Instead of simply rebuilding, the country would modernise, and even today, Ragusa is known for its efficient rail system connecting the country.

In 1948, Prince Matej died of a stomach condition. He was succeeded by his son, Benedikt. How Benedikt’s reign would have been is unknown, as he sadly died only 18 days after ascending the throne. His death echoed Prince Domenico III’s in some ways, as both involved balconies; Prince Benedikt was looking out over the sea from his palace one evening as the sun was setting, when the bannister gave way and he fell to his death.

Prince Benedikt was followed by his younger brother, Biagio II. Biagio had been an officer in the military during WWII, and had seen first hand the brutality of modern war and importance of air superiority. As such, his first act as Prince was establishing the Ragusan Air Force out of the Army Air Defence Corps. By 1954, the Ragusan Air Force was a force to be reckoned with, though it would rarely be tested in battle to the present, as the Principality has not been to war since the World War ended; the only exceptions to this were occasional border skirmishes during the break-up of Yugoslavia in the 90s.

Under Biagio II, culture reached a zenith in the Principality, with the film and tourism industries taking off in the later years of his reign. A number of big-budget movies were filmed in Ragusa, and with the country’s lower taxes compared to other places, it was, and remains, a haven for film-making.

Prince Biagio II died relatively early in his reign, in 1959, from the same stomach condition his father, Prince Matej, had died from. He was succeeded by his son, Josip, who had only just the year before attained majority.

Prince Josip was a bit of a playboy during the initial fifteen years or so of his reign, and was thought to be squandering the Principality’s money on frivolities, such as several race tracks throughout the country. He liked fast cars, women, booze, and debauchery, but when he married Princess Adriana of Albenga, the daughter of Prince Jacopo IV of Albenga, he settled down, and the remainder of his reign is acknowledged as one of the peaks of the Principality’s history.

Prince Josip, in addition to his early reputation as a playboy, is often called the Tech Prince, as he introduced the computer to Ragusa in 1979, a Ragusan-made licensed copy of the Commodore PET. The Prince would be a champion of technology for the remainder of his reign, and even wrote and distributed his own programs to the populace in his spare time.

Prince Josip died in 1994 after a series of heart attacks. He was succeeded by his son, Petar, who has been Prince ever since.

Prince Petar’s reign saw the fall of Yugoslavia, and rise of the EU. Like his ancestor, Prince Domenico III, had refused to join Ragusa to Yugoslavia, Prince Petar has adamantly refused to join the country to the EU, and has been a vocal critic of the Union for years.

Princes of Ragusa: (All from house Buzignolo)

Prince Domenico I Buzignolo: May 26, 1798-September 30, 1821

Prince Domenico II: October 7, 1821-February 3, 1832

Prince Marino: February 14, 1832-June 29, 1837

Prince Biagio I: July 2, 1837-August 19, 1882

Prince Domenico III: August 11, 1882-May 3, 1921

Prince Matej: May 15, 1921-May 28, 1948

Prince Benedikt: June 1, 1948-June 19, 1948

Prince Biagio II: June 24, 1948-April 19, 1959

Prince Josip: April 25, 1959-September 2, 1994

Prince Petar: September 15, 1994-Present

#althist #jïchamfte

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jinterlude · 4 years ago

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Knock

→ Pairing: Kim Myungjun x Reader (female OC) [feat. Kim Seokjin and Park Jinwoo] → Genre(s): Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, and & Slight-Angst → AUs/Tropes: Non-Idolverse, Fashionista!Reader, Fashion Editor!Reader, Accountant!Myungjun, Strangers to Lovers trope → Word Count: 5.6K → Warning(s) & Rating: alcohol, alcohol consumption, heartbreak, swearing, & shameless flirting from MJ | PG-15 → Summary: In what seemed like a normal meetup with a friend ended up changing your life forever... → A/N: The majority of this story is set in the past; hence, the past tense, but near the end, it does switch to present tense as the two leading characters finish reminiscing about their first meeting! I apologize in advance if it’s a bit confusing and/or hard to read! I will use some sort of line break to separate the past from the present to make it, hopefully, a tad easier! ☄ This one-shot is dedicated to an incredibly good friend of mine, Beanie @jinned, who is the sole reason why I even got into Astro and officially place MJ on my list of ULTS. He may or may not even be ult of ults. We will see!

“In the end, you’ll thank me as our marriage would’ve been a mistake...You know it. And I know it…”

That phrase knocked the wind out of you as you remained speechless ‒ practically mute ‒ while the loud and bustling noise of the fine dining restaurant continued in the background. You opened your mouth, desperate to form a coherent sentence. Shit. Even an audible word would suffice, but you honestly couldn’t.

The person you firmly believed, with all your heart, that he was the one for you, sat right across the table and declared that the wedding was off—terminated.

The wedding was scheduled to happen in just two months. Two...fucking...months…

“___,” Your fiancé began, breaking you away from your thoughts, “I honestly can’t express how deeply sorry I am for doing this to you, but it was the only way I can preserve our twenty-something friendship.”

“Friendship?” You scoffed, finally finding your voice. “You broke our year-long engagement so that you can PRESERVE OUR FRIENDSHIP?! Are you kidding me, Kim Seokjin?!” You practically boomed, alarming the patrons around you, but you didn’t care.

Seokjin tried to calm you but ultimately fails. Your emotions ran rampant throughout your body that nothing and no one could relax you. Well, Seokjin used to be able to, but since he’s the source of your fury, it’s pointless.

Forcing an airy chuckle, you reached over to your wine glass, drinking it all in seconds. The cool liquid hits the back of your throat but soon leaves behind this warm sensation. You felt that warmth settles within your cheeks, creating this pinkish hue, as you flag down a passing waiter and swiftly order another glass of your favorite wine. Within minutes, your second glass of wine appeared right in front of you. At first, you’re tempted to down it as you’ve done with the first glass, but then you opted against it. The last thing you needed to be was a drunken, heartbroken woman in a luxurious restaurant. At the same time, your ex-fiancé remained calm and collected. Then, the surrounding people - both the workers and customers ‒ would sympathize with him and utter phrases like, “Damn. He dodged a bullet. Look at the way she’s behaving, especially after he explained that he only wants to preserve their friendship.”

“God damn it…” You whispered, taking a long, deep breath, as you realize that Seokjin is right. Your marriage would be a mistake, especially if you’ve fallen out of love with him.

“___?” Seokjin questioned, noting this trance-like expression written all over your precious face.

“Why do you have to be right? Even up until the end of our relationship, you just have to be right…” You trailed on as a small, almost nostalgic-like smile slowly dances across your face.

Seokjin chuckled softly, “Well, someone has to be.”

“Yeah…” You nodded, maintaining that tiny grin as your eyes trail down to your ring finger. Slowly, you slid off the engagement ring, freeing yourself of this heavy burden that you’ve never known you had until tonight. Then, with your right hand, you placed it gently in front of Seokjin, saying one last farewell to him. You thanked him for being your first of every romantic milestone you’ve experienced.

As you stood up, placing a few twenty-dollar bills on the table, you said softly,

“I hope you find someone that will make you unconditionally happy.”

“I hope the same for you, ___. I truly do hope you find your soulmate.”

You uttered a quick thanks before walking from the table and towards a new chapter in your life.

An intriguing yet uncertain chapter where you explored the idea of being single again after so many years.

It should be a fun adventure, right?

Well, it was in the beginning. Yet like with everything else in life, it was only natural you’d experience some ‒ let’s just say ‒ writer’s block.

The first few pages contained incredible details of the first year since your breakup from Seokjin. You found yourself going back to school and majoring in fashion while finding the time to minor in journalism. During that good old university life, you met a person who you now considered a dear, close friend of yours.

Eun Byeol. Now that was a true definition of a “ride or die” friend. To this day, you still remember how you essentially handcuffed your roommate-turned-best friend to the closet door handle, preventing her from driving over to your ex-fiancé’s place and destroying his most prized possession. Yep. You guessed it—his 1960s candy red Jaguar E-Type car. Stereotypical of a fella valuing his vintage ride above anything else, but shit. Even you found yourself admiring that beautiful car once in a while.

But that was ancient history. Old news—just like your editorial on the most fashion show in Milan would be if you didn’t stop reminiscing about your first love and haul your ass.

Lightly shaking your head, forcing yourself back into reality, you cleared your throat a few times, sniffing the Tropical fruit scents that lingered around your office.

“I could really go for a mango shaved ice…” You muttered, blankly staring at your document as little to no inspiration enters your mind. You drummed your fingers against the keys, desperately hoping that something - anything - would jump right out of your brilliant mind and land directly on the page; thus, resulting in a finished article to hand over to the boss lady.

Yet here you sat for another couple of hours staring at the same paragraph. You were pretty sure that you edited that paragraph to the point that it wasn’t even a paragraph. You somehow managed to dwindle it down to a three-sentence summary of Emma Aruda, a rising top model, and how stunning she looked walking the runway. Great. Now your column was too short, thanks to your sudden need to edit before it was even completed.

“Come on, inspiration…” You groaned, slouching in your office chair as you swiveled back and forth, looking at the blanket of white that you called a ceiling.

“You know...the longer you keep your head positioned like that, the higher the chance of your brain cells leaving will be…” quipped a familiar voice, causing you to swivel towards your door.

Soon, a small grin formed on your face as you lightly scoffed at that person’s words.

“Well, hello to you too, Eun Byeol.” You greeted, sitting up straight but still resting your elbows on the arms of your chair.

Eun Byeol flashed a warm smile ‒ so warm and inviting that it could even get the coldest, most standoffish person to greet her back ‒ as she strode towards your desk and leaned against the edge.

“Dumb question, but what’s with frustration radiating off of you?”

“Oh, my brain stupidly remembered my relationship with Seokjin while I was in the middle of writing this article, and now I’m stuck…”

You heard Eun Byeol winced, grimacing as you went into details of the memories that resurfaced in your mind. As each word escaped your sweet lips, the more this unbearable stab pressed against the chest. To be more precise, this cruciating pain that invaded your heart.

“Damn, ___. It’s been like, what? Five years since he called off the engagement? I thought you were officially over that arrogant ass.” asked Eun Byeol, clearly fed up with your ex, as evidence in her tone of voice. You couldn’t help but shrink in your chair as each of your drear friend’s words grazed your soft skin.

Taking a long, deep breath before exhaling slowly, you tilted your head towards your friend, revealing a small and remorseful smile. You felt guilty mentioning him towards, fully aware of how she had rather colorful opinions of him.

“I am over him, but can you blame me for remembering the good old days I experienced with him?”

Now, it was your friend’s turn to feel a tad guilty for allowing and directing her fury towards you. Eun Byeol knew you were over him, but you fell victim to the old saying, “One never truly forgets their first love,” and that was Seokjin. He was your first love, and he might be even your last—unless her boyfriend’s longtime friend was still single.

Then, a lightbulb lit up in her devious mind as this scheming smirk danced across her face, instantly alerting you. That smirk usually led to some rather “exciting” shenanigans, and most often than not, you went home questioning your life choices and wondering how on Earth did your friendship with Eun Byeol last this long.

As you opened your mouth, ready to warn your friend, she beat you the punch.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh, besides pulling an all-nighter to finish this article? Nothing. Why?” You asked with a wary expression. Your eyes slightly narrowed while your brows became knitted together.

“Wrong! You’re coming out with me for drinks at this bar Jinwoo and I usually frequent whenever our schedules allow it.” Eun Byeol announced, overly excited, further adding to your suspicions.

You swiftly glanced at your editorial piece before flickering your gaze back to your friend. You sucked in some air through your clenched teeth. Your mind desperately tried to find any, if at all, hidden motives behind Eun Byeol’s random invitation. Unfortunately, you came up with nothing. No secret plans that laid underneath the seemingly harmless invite that your brain could zero in on.

“It’s just the two of us, right?” You asked, feeling apprehensive towards Eun Byeol’s invite.

Eun Byeol simply nodded, smiling brightly as she promised you that it would be just the two of you, and that was all.

After mulling it over for a good minute or two, you whined loudly before agreeing to go out with her.

“But I’m stopping after two Whiskey Sours! I still have a deadline to meet, unlike someone who’s currently in my office and clearly being a bad influence.”

Eun Byeol snorted in response, “Please. If I was such a bad influence, would I suggest that we steal Seokjin’s car and take it on a joy ride?”

“Actually, you did. Like, several times.”

“Shut up and write your damn column.” Teased Eun Byeol before exiting your office. As she created enough distance between her and your office, she fished out her phone from the pocket of her black slacks and sent a quick text message to her boyfriend. A message that read,

“Hey, can you convince MJ to come to our favorite bar? I’d think he’d be perfect for ___!”

Not even a minute after pressing send, Eun Byeol received a response that said,

“I’ll do my best, but he’s been moping lately since his last date ghosted him without any warning. Plus, you can’t forget how soul-sucking our line of work is, babe.”

Eun Byeol giggled softly as she typed out,

“Even more reason to add a certain fashionista to his dull life. She’ll liven it up with her colorful and bright personality,”

She then scrolled through her list of emojis, picking the perfect one before sending it. After waiting for what seemed like ten minutes, her boyfriend didn’t reply, meaning that he was on board and hopefully planting the seed at that moment.

“Oh, please let them hit it off…” thought Eun Byeol as she journeyed back to her office, dying to know if her boyfriend executed his mission perfectly.

Yet like with any task, there were bound to be tiny hiccups as Jinwoo exhausted all his go-to methods to convince his close friend, Kim Myungjun. While Eun Byeol and ___ worked at one of the top fashion empires, he and Myungjun worked a regular office job, crunching numbers for their CEO.

Again, a soul-crushing type of profession, and it didn’t help that their office space was oddly white. Everywhere Jinwoo turned, it was just pure white. Apparently, someone thought it’d be a brilliant idea to add fluorescent lighting into the mi; the entire building gave off this abnormally cleanliness vibe.

Every day that Jinwoo walked into the office, he seriously felt that he entered that agency from the hit movie Men in Black, especially in his black and white two-piece suit that his company required the workers to wear. What was next? He’d get a cool gadget that wiped civilians’ memories?

“Oh, man. That’d be amazing…” He mumbled, unaware of someone standing behind him.

“What’d be amazing, JinJin?” asked an all too familiar voice belonging to a person that Jinwoo actually had to see.

The eager man turned his chair around, now face-to-face with his close friend and coworker—Myungjun.

Quickly clearing his throat, Jinwoo plastered on the warmest smile his face could handle and happily greeted his friend.

Myungjun, at first, felt weirded out by his friend’s sudden surge in energy but soon brushed it off. He then matched Jinwoo’s energy, capturing the attention of a few bystanders.

“So back to my question, what would be amazing?” questioned Myungjun, ignoring the strange glances he and Jinwoo earned from their coworkers.

“Um…” Jinwoo began, nervously chuckling, “It would be amazing if you and I go out for drinks tonight, especially after how shitty this week has been.”

“I don’t know, man, like you said, it’s been a shitty week, and I don’t think I’m up for going out and having a fun time with you and the rest of our buddies.”

“Come on, MJ, you’re still not moping about what’s her face? She’s not worth your time, especially when you weren’t worth hers.” Jinwoo retorted, hoping that his tough-love approach would entice him to come out and meet his girlfriend’s friend. Sadly, it didn’t. If anything, his words made Myungjun even more upset as this solemn expression washed over his once joyous face. Now, his friend looked as if someone took his heart right out of his chest and crushed it with their bare hands.

“Alright...new approach…” Jinwoo switched tactics, going for the more “brotherly advice” approach, “Look, I was out of line, and for that, I’m sorry MJ. But I honestly hate seeing you upset over her, so please come out with me tonight. Tomorrow, you can sit at home alone and mope on the couch. Deal?”

Myungjun made a face, weighing his options but ultimately leaning towards going out. After all, Jinwoo was right. His loneliness and favorite couch would be there tomorrow, so where was the harm in downing a few shots of Vodka to numb the hurt?

“Fine, deal. What’s this place called?”

“Ahora.”

A quizzical expression slowly washed over Myungjun’s face as he couldn’t help but question the intriguing choice of that bar name.

While the uncertainty still filled his entire body, something deep within told him that something ‒ or maybe someone ‒ would change his life after tonight.

Mustering his signature thousand-watt smile; his eyes practically disappeared as he did, Myungjun gave his friend a thumb’s up and said,

“Alright. See you tonight! Maybe you and I can finally see who can drink the most without acting goofy after the third drink!”

Jinwoo playfully shook his head, letting out a few light chuckles.

“I don’t know, my dude. I think I got you beat the last time we had our little drinking competition.” He teased, masking his hidden motive behind inviting his buddy out. Secretly, he hoped that Myungjun would ask like his goofy self since, according to Eun Byeol, you had a thing for comedic guys.

Now, the real question was, how would Myungjun successfully capture your heart?

“So, what should I wear?” Jinwoo heard Myungjun ask, forcibly removing him from his frenzy thoughts.

“Um…” Jinwoo paused, silently panicking since his girlfriend never told him what you were going to wear tonight or even your preferred style on men. “Do you still have that purple and black striped sweater? You know with that creamy-tan color as well? I think it might be cold.” He suggested though he was unsure of his own recommendation. Honestly, he began questioning his life choices when he said, “purple and black striped sweater.”

A faint hum emitted from Myungjun’s lips while he mulled over his buddy’s fashion suggestion. Then, he simply shrugged, going along with Jinwoo’s choice.

“Yeah, I think I have that sweater still. Wait.” The biggest grin danced across his handsome face, “I knew you loved that sweater on me!” He cheered, flinging his arms around Jinwoo’s neck and giving him the warmest hug known to man.

“Let go! People are staring at us weirdly!!”

“Let them stare! I want the entire world to know how amazing of a friend you are to me!”

“Damn, you just had to make it even creepier. Didn’t you?”

“You know me so well.”

Later that evening, while Myungjun knew what he’d wear on his night out with the fellas, you were the polar opposite. You rummaged through your walk-in closet, flinging every single clothing hanger you could get your hands on. You tossed aside the latest peacoats, dresses, wool sweaters, everything onto the floor because nothing matched the vision you had in your fashionista brain. While, yes, it was just going out for a few drinks with Eun Byeol, you still wanted to look reasonably decent just in case Mr. Right made an appearance.

Silently scolding yourself while you tap the pads of your fingers against one another as you desperately try to capture the perfect attire you envisioned yourself. Minutes had gone by, and you still drew a blank. You even pressed your cold lips against your fingers, slightly enjoying the warmth that radiated from your hands. Then, it finally dawned on you as millions of light bulbs lit up in your pretty mind like a beautiful and well-organized lamp display at a furniture store.

“I’m a dumbass.” You teased, softly chuckling as you pulled out this dark gray pin-striped black peacoat and gently draping it over your desk chair. Then, you flipped through your rack, your fingers grazing the fabric of your blouses, button-ups, and plain old t-shirts. Your eyes scanned each article of clothing until you found the perfect blouse that would compliment the jacket perfectly. You pulled out this satin white long-sleeved blouse with ruffles on the ends of both sleeves and the collar.

With a pleased smile, you gently laid the blouse over the jacket before grabbing a nice pair of navy blue slacks. The very same pair of slacks that Eun Byeol has dubbed “the highlighter” because apparently it perfectly accentuated the best parts of your body—whatever that meant.

Grabbing both the coat and blouse with your pants draped over your forearm, you made your way towards the restroom. Just as you’re about to disappear into the well-lit room, you commanded your Alexa to play your go-to “getting ready” song, “Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat).” The second the opening beat dropped, you bobbed your head to the tune, even swaying your hips as you jammed out.

One by one, your lounge clothes dropped to the floor and soon replaced with your jaw-dropping outfit. You smoothed out any wrinkles that your eye instantly locked on before switching focus to your makeup.

Now, this might not be an easy task compared to picking out your current outfit. Any look would pair well with your fashion statement. You could go for a “girl next door” look, but did you really want to portray an innocent person tonight, especially with drinks involved? Probably not.

Suddenly, a short gasp exited your lips as you grabbed all the necessary components for your femme fatale look. Your outfit almost reminded you of the main heroine in a 1940s movie.

“Okay, let’s see how red I can get my lips this time.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Myungjun wasn’t exactly having the time of his life. He remained still as a statue, staring blankly at his closet. Did he genuinely want to go out tonight? Part of him firmly believed that he only agreed to drink his sorrows away and forget about this girl that ghosted him a few weeks back. That was always his problem—he had the tendency to develop an infatuation before the girl does. It was honestly quite pathetic.

Just as he was a step away from backing out from the hangout, a high-tone pitch echoed throughout Myungjun’s condo.

With a curious expression, Myungjun shuffled his feet towards his phone, taking it off the charger. His brows perked up as he saw that he received a text message from Jinwoo.

“Huh. Maybe Jinwoo wants to back out.” He wishfully thought, unlocking his phone to read the message. It said,

“Hey man, I’m going to be a few minutes late, so you can get a head start on our little drinking competition!”

Nodding his head, Myungjun hit the message box. Just as he was about to type out his reply, a photo appeared. The image contained a person, who looked to be female, and to his dismay, her head was cropped out.

“Okay?” He thought, typing out his reply and asking his friend why he received a picture of a woman with excellent taste in clothing. Then, for laughs, Myungjun added, “Is that what you’re wearing, JinJin? I didn’t peg you as the type to wear a frilly blouse.”

Not even a minute later, the playful fellow received a response,

“Fuck you, MJ! And to answer your serious question, if you see this girl, can you politely let her know that Eun Byeol is also running late. Apparently, that lady is a college friend of Byeolie, and they coincidentally also wanted to meet at the bar we’re going to. Cool? Thanks!”

Slightly shaking his head, Myungjun replied with a thumb’s up emoji before locking his phone.

“Well, I guess you can’t back out now,” He muttered, opening his closet doors and revealing a wide array of clothing, coming in every color known to man. “What did that old man suggest earlier? Oh! Purple, cream-tan, and black pull-over!” Then, a sudden pause filled the air, “That was oddly specific of him to suggest…” He realized, thinking back to their conversation at work. Yet he merely shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it except his friend perhaps wanted him to look good just in case he’d were to meet his Miss Right.

“Alright, MJ. Pick up the pace. We don’t want the pretty lady waiting too long, do we?”

Sadly, that happened, and to put it frankly, you were pissed off at Eun Byeol for making you awkwardly wait for what seemed like forever. Granted, it was only an hour that you waited for her, but that was beside the point.

Nope. The long wait time was not the sole reason behind your agitation. Nuh-uh. It was the fact that your oh-so-dear-friend failed to mention that every couple known to man appeared at the bar tonight. Thus, resulted in you nervously sitting alone at the bar, running the tip of your finger against the rim of your whiskey sour. You then gulped down the last remaining sips before almost slamming it on the counter. With a sour expression, you held up one finger and politely asked for another glass. Just as you mumbled a quick thanks, you felt someone tap your shoulder.

Instead of giving the “drunken” stranger, more than likely looking for a one-night stand, you wave the person away, citing that you were already waiting for someone.

“I mean, from the looks of it, I don’t think your friend is coming.” pointed out the stranger, with an unusual high-pitch voice. Though, to give the person the benefit of the doubt, you were used to deep, manly voices. This unknown bystander’s voice was honestly a breath of fresh air.

Reaching for your second glass of the evening, you swiveled in your seat, coming face-to-face with the stranger. But the moment your eyes landed on him, you felt your jaw drop slightly, forming a tiny “o.” Holy crap, this guy is incredibly gorgeous.

Quickly snapping out of your gaze, you cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry? I. Um. What do you mean my friend is not coming?”

“Just that. I mean, originally, I was supposed to be here 45 minutes ago and give you a heads up that Eun Byeol was running late. Still, I lost track of time getting ready to meet my friend here. However…” he trailed on, looking around. He, too, noticed all the couples chatting it up everywhere and anywhere in the bar that evening. “I’m starting to think that we were set up on a blind date.”

You softly giggled, “Yeah, I’m getting that hunch as well...I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” You replied, unknowingly disregarding the fact that Myungjun mentioned your best friend’s name.

“Oh! I’m Kim Myungjun, but my friends call me MJ,” Then he playfully winked at you, flashing a bright smile, “I can’t forget pretty girls, like yourself, as well.”

You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief, “Well, I’ll think about it, but thank you for that disclaimer. Also, you can call me ____.”

“What? No playful yet flirtatious tactic like me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The night is still young, MJ.”

Hearing his nickname slip past your innocent lips, Myungjun couldn’t help but raise a brow with an interested gleam in his eyes. One corner of his mouth curved upwards as he observed your body language. He silently hoped for your non-verbal cues would give him the “okay” to continue his flirting. When he didn’t see any signs of uncomfortableness radiating off you, he took that as the first and ‒ hopefully ‒ of many positive reactions he’d gained from you throughout the evening.

Clearing his throat, the suddenly nervous young man glanced around the busy establishment, looking for a vacant booth for the two of you to occupy. Lucky must be on his side as his focused gaze immediately locked on an empty stall in the far right corner. With pursed lips, he swiftly analyzed the location and the atmosphere that surrounded it. Myungjun noted how dimly lit that corner was. With the added candles, that location had this romantic aura swarming it and those who sat in that spot.

It was perfect for this sudden blind date.

“So, would you like to sit over there?” asked Myungjun, pointing towards the only empty booth.

You followed his finger and landed on the isolated corner that screamed passion. Instantly, your eyes widened as your heart rapidly drummed against your chest. Oh, you weren’t prepared for this, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel this unexplainable excitement and giddiness. A few emotions that you hadn’t felt in a long time—not since your relationship with Seokjin. Yet to be quite honest, you didn’t feel scared. In fact, you were ready to take that plunge into the deep romantic ocean. You weren’t worried about drowning or hitting a bunch of jagged rocks. You just wanted to take that leap of faith and, perhaps, maybe Myungjun would catch you.

With a long, drawn-out breath, you steadied your racing heart before answering him,

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

In return, Myungjun greeted with his signature thousand-watt smile, resulting in this warm sensation creeping on your pale cheeks.

“Positive reaction number 2.” He silently cheered as he abruptly held out his hand, hoping you’d take it. “After you, m’lady,” said Myungjun with a hint of playfulness.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly shaking your head in the process.

“Why, thank you, my kind sir.” You played along, gently grasping his hand and curling your fingers around his. The second you did that, this unspeakable spark shot through both of your arms, surging through your entire body. What made that reaction spectacular was that he interlaced your fingers together as he softly smiled with a genuine warm expression written all over his handsome face. With that smile alone, all recent thoughts about Seokjin and any doubts caused by your former relationship evaporated into thin air. Now, it was just you and Myungjun.

You took a mental note to thank Eun Byeol for setting up this blind date as you guided your bodies towards the booth. Naturally, you picked up the pace as you didn’t want anyone else to steal that perfect spot meant for the both of you.

Little by little, you pushed through the sea of people, swiftly closing the gap between your bodies and the table.

“Which side do you want?” You politely asked as you couldn’t help but notice a defeated couple look for somewhere else to sit. Huh. Perfect timing on your part.

Myungjun softly tapped his chin with his free hand as this faint hum emitted from his lips. Then, a bold idea appeared in his mind. Depending on how you’d answer, he could either make incredible progress or back to square one with you. Well, it was time to find out.

“I have a better idea. Why don’t I sit right next to you? You know so that you can hear me better, especially with how noisy it is right now.”

A tiny squeal escaped your lips as your eyes went round. Your face flushed from Myungjun’s boldness.

“Okay, ____. You need to form a string of coherent words.” You chastised yourself, feeling a tad foolish that you’re this nervous to the point that you can’t even form a simple sentence. “You can do it. All you need to say is, “Sure. You can sit next to me.” Is that so damn hard?” You mumbled to yourself—or so you thought.

“Um. I don’t know, sweetheart. Is it tough to say that you want to sit next to me?”

“Uh...no?”

“Really? You don’t sound so sure of yourself.”

“I mean, yes, we should sit right next to each other.”

You nervously chuckled as you entered the booth, placing your drink on the edge of the table just before shuffling towards the middle of the table with Myungjun following after. You then kindly ask him if he could slide your almost finished Whiskey Sour to you, which he did but not without some playful quips towards you. He teased you for acting like a nervous wreck, blaming the fact that you probably had one too many drinks already. You argued back, stating that you only had two drinks and that it was all his fault for making you this worked up.

Myungjun chuckled in response but soon, that boyish grin vanished from his face and was replaced with a scheming yet charming smirk. What was he planning? And as soon as you parted your sweet lips, Myungjun’s face was inches away from yours. One wrong you move and the two of you would lock lips right then and there. That’s how close you were to each other.

“Oh? So, it’s my fault, then how are you feeling now?” He whispered. His warm breath fanned your cheeks as his gaze darted between your doe-like stare and your apple-red lips. “Am I making you extremely worked up—”

“Hold up! That’s not how our first date went, MJ.” You say, interrupting your boyfriend’s somewhat exaggerated story. You’re almost sure that he’s currently telling a rendition of what he wishes occurred on your first date.

Myungjun scoffs, putting on the theatrics, clearly finding your words offensive.

“It is so! I distinctly remember you had two drinks that evening; hence, you becoming a blushing mess around me. Ooh! You can’t forget the fact that you wanted to kiss me as well.” He argues, acting like a child debating who’s the better superhero, Superman or Batman, with a school friend. You don’t know how you’ve managed to last an entire year with this dramatic fool.

“JinJin! Tell her how wrong she is!” Myungjun whines to his close friend and boyfriend of Eun Byeol.

You shoot Jinwoo a look, questioning why he’s even there on your anniversary date.

Jinwoo pauses, silently sipping his Coca-Cola as he still needs to drive home after he’s done hiding from his girlfriend, who he accidentally angered. A look of hesitation washes over his face as the poor fella absolutely does not want to get in the middle of your guys’ argument. After all, Myungjun is the reason why he’s able to safely hide from his furious significant other. But also, that stupid pretty boy is the cause of his and Eun Byeol’s argument in the first place.

So…

“Well, first of all, you’re both misremembering your first date because it actually wasn’t a blind date. You two had met previously at mine and Eun Byeol’s housewarming party. Then, you two decided to start out as friends because,” Jinwoo points to you, “You're in a relationship with Seokjin. Myungjun was seeing some random chick that I’ve forgotten the name for her.” He stated, debunking the first part of your love story. Before continuing with his explanation, Jinwoo chugs the rest of his soda and holds up a finger, flagging down a waiter to order another glass of Coke.

“Alright, now where was I?” He releases a tiny burp as he continues his journey of stating the facts of your relationship, making Myungjun protest and whine.

Then, your dork of a boyfriend leans towards you, his lips hovering over your ear.

“Why did I let him tag along with us again?”

“Because you two are tighter than a clam’s ass. That’s how close you two are to one another. It’s quite freaky at times.”

Myungjun, being his dramatic self, gawked, stumbling over his words,

“W-what? Name one-time that JinJin was with us.”

“Last night.”

Suddenly, Myungjun’s face becomes blank. Checkmate.

“And another thing! I wasn’t even the one who convinced you to go out that evening! It was Eunwoo!”

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