#if we starve we should be grateful to be allowed to work?

[sowhatnotcreative]

"You have to respect my opinion!" Scrote why? You literally just stated false information that you could easily disprove with a less than 5 minute google, and your "just a opinion" actively puts people at risk of actual harm.

[year2000electronics]

i gotta say, despite your brozone world tour fanfic being VERY much an au it's probably got the best written brozone dynamic i've ever seen?? like not only branch being upset at his brothers and all of them being upset at JD, but the way they all realize how they hurt branch and make an effort to change without it being too melodramatic (just comedic dramatic with clay the one time lmao) and in turn branch realizing that they all had issues he couldn't see as a kid and him beginning to understand their reasons for leaving in the first place, all without diminishing anyone's feelings because they're all allowed to be upset!! it's REALLY good and something i've been starving to see in brozone fanworks lately (like, i enjoy branch blowing up at them all as much as the next guy, but it gets old after a while yk?). i think how you write them has gotta be one of my favorite ways i've seen them be characterized, despite how far removed they are from the actual movie's story LMAO. so excited to see how messy things get now that JD's back in the picture, keep up the awesome work!!

thank you so much!! that really means a lot to me because i care about the relationship brozone has a LOT <3 it's really not an enviable situation for ANY of them to be in, yknow?? like, all the bros were either late teens or adults in their brozone days and, like, yeah it's one thing for branch's perspective to be that his brothers all up and left him instantly in one day, but man it is ANOTHER thing for you, as a teen/young adult, your identity being irreversibly tied to four people that are starting to REALLY grind your gears- being just "a part of brozone", with a specific Label for how you should specifically be acting all the time.

like yeah! branch has every right to be mad at the bros! but its also sooo important to me to remember that these guys were an ENTIRELY different age bracket than bitty b, right, so like. HIS "you all up and left before i could grow up" is THEIR "i'm growing up and i still don't have any identity to my name besides 'the fun boy', 'the sensitive one', 'the heartthrob', 'the leader'"

and i think branch could be able to see that i truly do. i think the best thing for branch to hear from his brothers is not actually "so sorry branch we should have never left" but instead like. "yeah we did leave but we should have visited" or like "it was really important for our lives to change, but we're sorry that ended up having an unintentional negative impact on yours"

IT'S ALL ONE BIG BOY BAND ISSUES SOUP AND IT MAKES MY BRAIN'S GEARS SPIN LIKE CRAZYYY!!! and again i am super grateful for your kind words, i love writing for these bros so much ;0;

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 4: It's Not the End of the World

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter

Summary of chapter: A new normal comes into play for the two Akatsuki and their associate, though changes are on the horizon- for better or for worse.

Please regard the notes and warnings of chapter 1 if you have not read it already. The song for this chapter is It's Not the End of the World (Even As We Know It) by Faded Paper Figures as both breaks and in-universe, lyrics not entirely complete or in order.

While I'm not a huge fan of the "only girl in the group" trope, I also have eyes that can see, and Konan in her own is a wonderful character with lots of depth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeah, it's hard but it's not the end of the world

Even as we know it

Yeah, it's so hard but it's not the end of the world

Even as we know it

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What kind of life is this to lead?

For now, it’s one worth having. The traveler has a roof, job security (?), and a reason to live. She got the gig at the bar, the one in the new village closest to the house she found in the woods, though it’s quite the hike. She resides there now, along with those two guys, sometimes. “As long as our objectives are within range,” the masked one explained to her, “We’ll return.” When inquired about what will happen when it’s not, if she’ll go with them, he shrugged.

“Dunno. We’ll see.”

Hence the more dubious status of her job security.

But! While she has this...it’s going ok. There’s stability in making a routine: The day is her own, which is to say, she quickly had to find out how to not be bored. The fear of losing her livelihood and getting on Kakuzu’s bad side is enough motivation to fill it with practice. Wielding her old musical skills is like sharpening a rusty sword; she’s not sure if it’s actually up to par, but as long as it doesn’t need to go up against a real blade-- an actual performer showing up-- it seems to impress just enough. It was only ever a hobby before, but...she’d be lying if in some way this wasn’t her dreams come true.

Minus the serial killers, or whatever they are. They won’t really tell her. But she can make that work!

Besides practice, there’s the matter of meals. Kakuzu goes against his word (probably figured it’d save him the headache) and gives an allowance. It’s less her choice, though, and more “here is exactly the cost of these things I pre-selected for you at this storefront.” But! She won’t starve again. For that, she’s grateful.

Hidan rolls his eyes sometimes and throws either a bag, container, or the food itself that he probably stole right at her, making sure every single time it is in front of Kakuzu. The traveler doesn’t need much intuition to sense a bit of spite or competition, so she simply thanks Hidan and says little to question how the arrangement should be; let them argue between themselves. She’s not super interested in getting in the middle.

Boy can they argue, though.

That’s the next part of the routine, really, when they arrive-- typically before sunset or just after dusk. They’re as different as different can be. Practical vs spiritual. Pragmatic vs excessive. Money vs prayer. The only thing they can agree on, apparently, is that things are taking way too fucking long and that is the fault of the other. Threats to kill and end it all happen often- especially on Kakuzu’s end, which surprises her based on how Hidan’s religion is literally, explicitly about killing, and she learns to be wary of the silence just as much-- the pressure building before someone throws a punch. She learns to either shut her ears and pretend to be busy or simply arrange that she’ll be in her “room” when they walk through the door. Maybe she’s over thinking it, though; if they’ve hit each other, it’s not been in front of her.

The sight of conflict bothers her more than the violence itself, to be honest.

Even in the world the traveler had before, the name of the game was to make herself as little of a nuisance as possible. This new unfamiliarity and constant impending doom? It’s compounding that aspect of her like a voice in a megaphone. And here she thought she had made progress! The fact that Kakuzu stated the house was perfect because “it’s free, private, and easy to surveillance” puts a weight on her shoulders whenever she leaves on her own for meals. She nearly gave herself a heart attack making eye contact with someone watering her flowers. She swallowed, pretended she is simply going about her day, and as soon as they looked away, she circled back and left. Her caretakers are bounty hunters, at minimum; what happens to her if some asshole is pissed at THEM and sees HER in association? But she knows the answer to her situation already. If you don’t like it, just leave.

But she prefers a devil she knows.

There’s another good side, though-- Hidan is never short of conversation. She isn’t entirely sure his expectations of her and what he’s going to get out of it, but clearly he aches for a listening ear, talking on and on as any seasoned scholar could (with the mouth of a sailor drunk in a ditch). The corner of his lips even seems to twitch up, on occasion, as his follower engages the scripture. He’s disciplined only in his religion, yes, but he’s not half-assing that, praying most any time he’s not speaking with the pendant to his face. What an enigma Hidan is to her, multitudes of thoughts and attitudes and ideals somehow making one man so sure about the universe. It tampers down the fact he prods her about when she wants to “go out for some heathen slaughter again.”

Does she know he’ll defend that attentiveness to bloodshed? Not yet.

When night falls is when she earns her keep, slinging a guitar over her back and being escorted by the two Akatsuki in a beeline to her corner of the low-lit business. It’s as chill as a performance job can be, and she’s content whether or not she’s acknowledged. Once or twice a night, someone will approach her. If it’s just talk, she’ll light up like the sun. If it’s more, she’s experienced that if she can get them to accept a polite denial, that’s better than her bouncers getting to them. It doesn’t help that Hidan is always RIGHT there, same spot every time, just as the first. Sometimes he’ll watch at her, but most of the time he looks bored, dangling his glass from his fingertips, either closing his eyes or looking angry he can’t fall asleep. But it’s a sin to mistake his disinterest for laziness, that tongue of his a dagger if someone bothers her just a little too long or gets a little too close. Kakuzu, however, always stays distant, perhaps judging how well this is working out, if she warrants this much of his time for a couple of bills. Neither belong with this scene, so they typically don’t engage anyone on their own volition. She begins to thank them for their time, but neither like being accused of kindness, so it’s a habit not kept.

At the end of each shift as it’s time to close the bar, the performer always wave politely to the staff and tells them to be safe heading home. They say “you too”, eventually. Her management is more dangerous than any bump in the night, boogeyman in the shadows. Is she safe when she gets home? There’s always a bit too much hesitance before she assures yes.

Some of the weight their red clouds carry starts to stick in her brain, after a couple of worried murmurs and frantic shouts about them. Kind of dampers the gig that someone more or less walked in, demanded a job for her, and she got it based on their own merit. But no one has made a big deal of it yet, the Akatsuki themselves even brushing it off somehow. The locals start to have more ease, but she’ll never be rid of the visitors passing through that try to pull the metaphorical fire alarm.

Ah well. The motto the traveler abides by, even long before this, was that to be embarrassed is to be known. To be known is to be embarrassed. If she’s anxious all the time, regardless of what she does, might as well try to be authentic.

There she finds relief in her “gimmick”-- the traveler from a strange, distant land. No, not even just from Hoshigakure-- that’s her actual cover story if it’s time to get serious-- but being exactly from where she really is from with enough vague words to escape being too specific. When she puts on her little show, she’s not just an out-of-place weirdo anymore. In the moment, she’s THE weirdo and she’s THRIVING for it, just as she always wanted and never thought possible. This “cover” is kept up eagerly, innocently, performative, in such a way that everyone really eats it up, finds it endearing-- adorable even. The woman sings of fairy tales and regrets with a smile on her face. Who would ever accuse her of telling the truth?

That’s why she dares to keep her few original affects, no matter how overly colorful. At first Kakuzu questioned them but depriving the performer of them left her so goddamn self-conscious to have it pointed out that he begrudgingly allowed it. When it rains and the two Akatsuki wear their hats, she brings out her own from her messenger bag, to match. It’s a light straw with pink ribbon tied in a bow with long tails. Her bag is even in theme, too, shaped like a folded love letter with a heart seal on the back. There’s no doubt that, sincerely, the two men are the only way no one messes with her since she is so purposefully demure and strange, unless of course the mistake is made of not recognizing their cloaks. It’s rare to see them, but there’s even a pair of literal rose tinted glasses in that strapped envelope. Is she a mockery of something? If so...what? While both men wonder, neither care to ask.

Indeed, whimsy is down to her bones, floating in curled strands of hair and in the way she sticks her boots far out to emphasize each step. Each individual leaf is capable of captivating her, every silky thread of the spider and every flower that can hug its petals around her nose. Her eyes glitter with wonder until the second you remind her she exists in front of other people.

Indeed, over time, life somehow becomes good. It takes a while, but eventually she accidentally bargains up on those trips for lunch. “Sure, you’re a regular patron now! How about some bread to go with your soup?”

The woman with the garden will tell her hello now and she’ll say it back. She can even take a smile on the street, faces becoming recognizable in the transition of vulnerable nights to guarded days. Her stomach is fuller and so are hopes. After all, she always wanted to be a storyteller. Always tried to convey to people in her life what certain words other wrote really can mean. No writer, teller. That’s all she’s doing, trying to pass feelings along in the music that’s kept her alive. Emotion is what she has, not elegance. This is the one strength she will admit to.

In turn, the “weirder” music must be kept under wraps, no matter the pang of their memory, only picking songs she finds either innocuous or passable enough to what she perceives these people to know here. Entirely relatable subjects-- even if one has to stretch-- with the foreign concept here and there explained away as world-building. She saves the fun ones for when she practices, when she thinks herself alone; she’s seen Hidan give her a “what the fuck” face hard enough to shame her into not doing it in front of them again. Of course the shinobi catch it anyways, Kakuzu thinking it’s just more of these odd fantasies while Hidan furrows his brow till it hurts.

“The hell is she singing about?”

“Nonsense. That’s what they all are anyway,” Kakuzu convinces himself. Hidan grunts.

“Jashin make sense of this for me,” he half prays.

So she begins to be a little more bold in her personal life, but not by much. Still a small mouse, at worst a kitten hissing in fear, but getting better. Persona on or off, it’s hard to take her seriously unless you actually LISTEN to her. One side of her is apologetic to even breathe. The other side in rose-tinted glasses is more interested in hearing your interpretation, your expression change, rather than what she may actually be saying for herself.

She loves questions. She loves reactions. Who cares what’s true or not? Who cares if tomorrow isn’t a guarantee? This is what existence is.

That’s been decided by the night a spellbinding set of orange eyes sit across the table.

“Takara...” That’s the name Kakuzu gave her, after the performer waffled to pick her own.

The songbird raises her head, having not introduced herself to this woman yet. Idly, she plays some chords on the piano, filling the silence as she holds back her voice. The stranger doesn’t smile, pulling a strand of periwinkle hair behind her ear.

“I’ve heard of you.”

The piano player gives more time to slide her gaze over and evaluate this person; no, she’s not familiar. “Takara’s” face brightens. “R-really?” She’s never been recognized beyond the usual patrons before. The woman neither nods nor affirms with her voice, just tilts her head forward and to the side with hooded eyes.

“You’re from a place of legends,” the patron recalls, emotionless. “Somewhere with no proof of it besides your songs.”

The performer bobs her head side to side in a bit of a playful confirmation. “Seems to be the case...Haven’t found another person from there,” she adds with an undercurrent of somberness.

“What’s it like there?”

As rehearsed, the player breathes in and out, and she sort of tells the truth. “It’s hard to describe your whole universe. There’s a bit of everything. Of course there is! But...I can say what there’s a bit more or less of, compared to here. There’s more noise. There’s more light-- so much we say it pollutes the night sky.” Though indoors, a wistful gaze becomes fixed upward. Hoshigakure...that’s supposed to be the village hidden in the stars. How can there be more than the ones she already gets to see now?

“We know so much about the heavens, but the layperson hardly gets to see it-- as it really is. A select few are chosen and trained to go beyond the clouds and pollution to see it firsthand. We’ve had a handful of people walk on the moon!”

Semi-consciously, she drifts into playing the Nocturn op.9. No.2 by Chopin. The patron can’t help but find it befitting, sweetness drifting into something in memory, an old mirror foggy with stardust. It’s getting late; the barkeep is cleaning the glasses, trying unsuccessfully to listen to a conversation.

“THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE!?”

Kakuzu eyes glare, glittering like daggers in the moonlit rain as he and a figure stand some meters away towards the outskirts of the forest. This means nothing to Hidan, of course, who folds his arms as he sits on the steps outside the bar. The newcomer smiles with half a face, the other half not moving as the white one’s lips move.

“Simply curious.” White Zetsu’s voice is nearly saccharine; Hidan loathes it. The mouth somehow keeps still while a deeper voice speaks. “This assignment has gone long past the expected perimeters.”

While Hidan is irreverent, Kakuzu is obedient-- but childish he is not and will not take scolding lying down. “Supplementing income,” he returns, not asking for forgiveness.

“I have a hard time believing you,” Black Zetsu retorts. Kakuzu doesn’t flinch.

“The books are there to prove it.”

“...She does sing very nicely…” the softer voice defends, though the other won’t back down. “We must think critically about this,” he instructs. The Akatsuki’s treasurer exhales.

“If the command is to abandon this—”

Before his partner can go batshit over Kakuzu relenting- rolling over so EASILY like a dog- the mouthless voice continues.

“That's not the issue." Then gentler voice returns, tongue slick with mischief. "What if she’s telling the truth?”

A simple question met with baffled reactions, a shocked pause in between.

“...Will you get the hell out of here already?” Hidan’s arm sweeps in front of him in a grand “shoo”ing motion. Silently, Kakuzu can’t help but agree; at this point Zetsu is clearly just fucking around, bouncing childish ideas back at them in jest. But from past experience, just after the punchline is when the plant-man would take his leave. Indeed, it’s even more unnerving that now he doesn’t move an inch.

“I’d like to make a request.”

By this point, the angel has made it to the front row, leg folded over her thigh with full, unflinching attention on the homemade musician. Takara can’t ignore how it makes her heart race, the high of controlling the narrative and of being in the graces of someone so gorgeous. As such, she smiles and nods eagerly to the proposal. The intent of Konan’s statements will become starkly clear later: the precision of it, the delicacy.

“Play for me...a song I will never understand.”

The meaning of this is obvious, in a way; they had spent the last half hour in a hyperbolic game of ping-pong in this conversation, a back and forth about what being foreign really means. The execution, however, is the real problem. Days and weeks of mulling over the appropriateness of lyrics has made it apparent how thin the line is, how gray the concept of being incomprehensible. Everything will have a twinge of relatability. What’s so different between here and there?

Takara bites the inside of her lip. Perhaps she should think of the reasons why she left.

The humming comes first, as she often does, while she spins upon her seat to pick up her second instrument; this one is going to be a bit strange to relay only on the acoustic guitar, as its so percussion-heavy in her memory. She rolls her shoulders a couple of times and then drifts into the inexplicable absurdity of Americana, consumerism, and chaos.

Glass ceilings falling on you

Like the blessings of a choice when it's the only way

Last night I thought I saw you

With a drink, and friends, you said you go there everyday

Then I hear you say

There’s a depth to it, a brevity she didn’t allow before. If it was her watching herself, she’d call it being a theater kid.

Wicked television screen, Rockefeller energy

Politician guarantee, stupid corporate synergy

MSNBC jerks, messing with the young Turks

Yogi hippiography, sell us immortality

Democratic fail safe

Money gets you in the game

Money gets you in the game

Money gets you in the game

It’s a rompous way to end the shift, letting loose and feeling her grief seep out her pores like sweat until her fingertips hurt on the grit of the strings. This nonsense doesn’t exist for her anymore! She’s never been normal, no one WILL ever be normal. She’ll never again need to pretend normal is real while the world burns around her. She finally gets to scream it out.

Yeah, it's so hard but it's not the end of the world

Even as we know it

Unapologetic about the truth, even though no one here will get what it means without living it. It might make up for the social awkwardness of all this jargon, all these buzz words that she doesn’t need to know anymore.

Kiss and tell apocalypse, psycho-pharmacologists

Target demographic lies, revolution improvised

Artificial bleeding heart, superficial work of art

Conjure up the word of God, complicated voter fraud

Buddha-heads will save the day, calculate the DNA

Mindless droning, human rights

Shoppers camping overnight

The world's a business power-play

Money gets you in the game

Money gets you in the game

MONEY GETS YOU IN THE GAME

In a weird way, she got exactly what she wanted when she died, but that part will stay a secret to even herself, let alone anyone in this dreamland. This lady doesn’t need to know; Hidan and Kakuzu don’t need to know.

...But it’s getting late, now. Where are those two, anyway? The barkeep points to the exit, and so she goes, politely excusing herself as orange eyes bore into the back of her skull.

The atmosphere is thicker than fog. Teeth clench in Hidan’s jaw, and Kakuzu’s glance no longer goes through her but stops right where she stands. An amalgamation of two men and a venus flytrap envelopes her attention; she could swear he barely licked his lips as she walked in.

“There you are,” a dreadful voice speaks seemingly from thin air. A shadow falls on Takara’s shoulder as the patron walks by wordlessly to the creature.

“Wait, Konan, how did we not see you-?!” Hidan sputters. Takara blinks.

“...Hold on. You guys know each other?”

Kakuzu won’t even indulge the question, so the blue-haired lady answers herself, approaching Zetsu and retrieving her cloak from his hands, a matching set of black and red clouds just as he drapes around himself.

Oh.

...Shit.

Her eyes can’t keep off of the one as black and white as the piano, but no one explains anything about him. He’s just a fact of reality, an everyday occurrence for these people. He is as pleasant-- and normal-- as any other gentleman. As Konan mutely joins the stance of four Akatsuki looking down one girl, Zetsu greets her with a smile that looks like fangs sanded back down.

“Our leader wishes to speak with you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Good gods abandoning you

Like a pain that fades when it's no longer in your way

No collective dreams to guide you

Have another drink, I think you'll be here everyday

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One can only wonder how long a watchful eye had followed along if it lives in the trees. The plant-man sinks in and out of bark like a bend in reality itself, reappearing only after the long, pained walk where Konan guided their path. There’s no more joy in the performer anymore. She wants to hold someone’s hand, but she’s left alone, folding and unfolding her own in anxiety until she’s worried they might rub raw. An illusion breaks as Konan approaches an over-sized oak and apparates an arch of pure darkness, causing Takara to fall backwards and shriek. Hidan ends up catching her. While a chiding is expected, she instead receives a whisper.

“Listen," he murmurs into her ear, "Fuckers are all talk. Don’t let ‘em get to ya, okay?”

How serious he’s being scares her more than anything else.

She’s helpless but to look over her shoulder as Konan escorts her inside the black hole. Hidan is helpless but to look on as he’s dictated by Zetsu to stay and Kakuzu to obey. The Jashinist frowns at the empty space where she was.

Why is he upset? That’s what Kakuzu asks. If anything, it’s him that should be, the fate of her income uncertain. Hidan doesn’t know the answer to that, so he spits in the opposite direction and tells him to shut up.

Inside this tree, there he sits, the king with a wood knot for a throne. Though his hair is the color of fire, it’s the eyes that rule her attention, circles upon a purple like the depths of space. He too wears the cloak. Her blood turns to ice and she freezes in place, but there’s little to fear-- at least right now. No, the leader has planned this out. Honey will suit this one better than water. It isn’t a matter of breaking this one open; there’s a precision, a delicacy that’s necessary. She’s more like...a puzzle that needs to be coaxed into revealing all its pieces. The possibilities- or even more so, the unimaginable- leave too much at stake.

“We are the Akatsuki.” The man’s voice is as regal as his presence. He sits above her, distantly...but not necessarily unkindly. “Under my command are the most elite of shinobi, those who have defected their station in light of the truth. The truth…” he repeats, spirals narrowing. “We’ve observed the truth about you.”

“But...that’s just—”

Konan watches silently in the corner of her eye as the man moves an index over his lips, urging Takara hush. The performer knows now that her patron was evaluating just how convincing her outlandishness was.

“You’ve hid in plain sight,” the leader continues. “Made due with what you had. All I ask now is…”

Her breath hitches, and abruptly she’s convinced this is somehow the end. But as her eyes squeeze shut, a death-cold hand holds her cheek, and they open just as soon. The man with many piercings seems to look upon her as one does an injured animal.

“...Share your suffering with us. Among comrades who don’t belong.”

His ring-wearing hand retracts, leaving her speechless. Pain allows the air to stagnate with her confusion before he elaborates, now on her level.

“We misfits who will bring the world to peace. Shinobi or otherwise, a power beyond infinite knowledge sent you here. I want to help you. I want your help.”

“I’m beseeching you: explain how you got here.”

She remembers the sound of the ocean and the sand under her palms. The man’s confidant sends a silent warning with her expression as she sees the girl begin to slip to the edge of composure, tears threatening to fall. The leader exhales softly.

“I’m expanding the tasks that my members took liberty upon. You will remain with us. Vulnerability should be no sin.”

The two Akatsuki wait in patience, their offer like God reaching down from heaven. But she doesn’t believe in God anymore. This benevolence surrounds an exchange, and the traveler is too afraid to ask what she must give. Briefly, she imagines continuing this life as she has, just without the two bounty hunters. She tries to focus on how fun and kind and fulfilling it can be, but those target eyes pin her in place as she imagines familiar faces twisting into sneers, jeers, and nightmares as soon as she has to stand on her own two feet. Then she feels hunger. Cold. And being alone again.

The answer to the proposal can only be a yes. Her head dips in submission, and she shouldn’t be surprised when he raises it again. His fingers are like ice. “Everything will be as it should.”

A threat and a promise.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Unfortunately, life goes on

However bent and badly drawn

Unfortunately, life goes on

However bent and badly

Bent and badly

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[indeliblescarspivotalmarks]

it’s midnights first birthday in the UK! happy first birthday to a beautiful example of a pop album!

Midnights was released at a time where I was really going through it and starting to struggle. I felt really alone, I was going through constant sleepless nights of anxiety and just feeling generally overwhelmed between work, life and university.

I waited up for the release, and it was the best choice ever. I streamed it religiously, as Taylor’s writing and stories she shared within these new songs really seemed to resonate with me. It became the soundtrack to me slowly picking myself back up. And I’m so grateful for that.

Lavender Haze was a dreamy start to a beautiful album. It captured that feeling of wanting to stay in that bubble of falling for someone - when love and connection are so intense you don’t want anyone else to touch it.

Maroon to me seemed like a growing up from Red. The appreciation of a love, but knowing it’s gone now. The wishing you could have held onto it. The questioning of why it was allowed to end. It was so strong and powerful that it actually became dark and full of emotion. She has such a talent for linking emotion into physical images.

Anti-Hero felt like such a deep personal look into someone’s brain, and I resonated so much with so many of the lyrics. The idea of acknowledging you’re the problem. The music video with the two Taylor’s resonated with me. The feeling you can’t escape from the bad side of yourself, because well…it’s you.

Snow on the Beach. Magical. Weird but fucking beautiful. The haunting background vocals of Lana with Taylor’s melodic talent. I found myself listening on repeat again and again.

You’re on Your Own Kid had me breaking down but feeling like it was a warm hug from an older sister telling me yes everything will be okay - I promise. Hearing the lyric “I hosted parties and starved my body” really hit me as someone who puts on this excitable personality and loves to be in the centre of attention, but who has actually been through years of struggle and eating disorder treatment. I felt like it was a hand squeeze from Taylor saying I know what it’s like, but we’re okay now.

Midnight Rain. Realising you maybe want more than what is planned. Having to hurt someone, and possibly yourself, in order to get what you should be headed for.

Question…? The experience of the what ifs. If only one thing had been able to change, or had happened. There’s always one who got away and you’re never sure what would have been. You never know unless you can ask a question. The feeling of ruminating on a situation in the middle of the night. The continuous questioning of what if it had been different.

Vigilante Shit. Iconic. Fuck Scooter Braun. Enough Said.

Bejeweled. Now this song really helped me feel like I was getting back to being myself. A reminder to us all that we ARE beautiful and sparkly and deserve to be shown off!

Labyrinth. Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. Remember it and use it. It feels like a dreamscape with haunting vocals. To me it feels like holding onto something you thought was failing, and it turning a corner of hope. You turned the plane right around.

Karma. A classic Taylor. The true swifties understand her. Pop beauty. Because Karma IS her boyfriend and it IS a relaxing thought!!!

Sweet Nothing. To me the beginning appears like a lullaby, and I think that’s beautiful. To me, it’s a song of needing security. The need to be held when everything else is going on. The need for comfort we all feel, but we don’t want to admit.

Mastermind. This feels like a wink from Taylor to us. She is the mastermind, and we absolutely adore her for it! We love her scheming and the way she has us wrapped around her finger. As a girl who obsessively plans and overthinks, this song is really such a moment. Watching the dominos all fall in line is perfection.

[aclaywrites]

I’m gonna get more anons about this one, but nonetheless my answer is yes. Is it a genetic trait? I’ve heard theories about how men had to do all the hunting while the women tended the babies so it’s ABSOLUTELY PART OF THE MALE ANIMAL to be more violent because that’s how humanity survived!! This is bs but it does go to show that 1) men know they’re predisposed to this behavior and 2) are fine with that and have even come up with reasons why it’s necessary and we should be grateful.

I don’t believe it has to do with mammoth hunting or whatever. I don’t know where it comes from, and frankly I don’t care. But I believe it’s true. Not all men, but only men look at a situation and think ‘I need to impose my will on this group of people and if it means slaughter and rape then that’s not a problem.’ Look at all of human history. Like, all of it. Read up on what Idi Amin got up to, or Vlad the Impaler, or Pol Pot. There are no female equivalents. Look at the rates of violent crime in any civilization on earth and compare men’s crimes and women’s crimes. Men do this shit and women don’t. I don’t know why. If it’s not inherent then it must be taught or consciously chosen, none of which is good.

Women aren’t little beams of sunshine who do no wrong, but they don’t come up with the Trail of Tears or the idea that if you slaughter all the bison then the plains tribes will starve to death and then you can save your bullets for shooting white men who try and come close to your claim. I don’t know if ‘inherently non-violent’ is how to describe it, but it’s a definite distinction.

Why don’t we rise up? Why haven’t we risen up? A few reasons: first of all, we weren’t allowed to. When conception and birth were still mysteries, women had a much more powerful spiritual role in human society. We had power and abilities that were respected and that gave us more equality. As soon as it was discovered that you need the sperm to fertilize the egg, our power was gone, and society radically reorganized. Look up the homunculus theory, or anything like that. It immediately switched from the divine feminine to women being the vessels to grow new men. Religions were created with GOD HIMSELF (any god— the religions are all the same) telling women that what they were created to do was to obey their man and bear his children as he goes out into the world, and to deny this was to go straight to hell (or local equivalent). And if the religious laws don’t work, then men are still physically stronger and can just beat you down and rape you until you give up. Look what happened to the suffragettes, as only one single example of what happens when women try to rise up. We do rise up sometimes , and we succeed, but it’s difficult and against fellow humans who would rather actually kill us then let us live on our own terms or free of their restrictions.

Not all men, sure. And not all women are wonderful angels out to do good for all humanity. There are lots of women who use their power to oppress other women. There are lots of women who find tiny pockets of power for themselves and curry favor with men by dragging other women down. But this world is the world men made, with all the death and hunger and pollution. If their violence isn’t inherent then what is it and why won’t they stop?

[dudamariaa]

Eating disorder and Body confidence

Hii! I’m really sorry for not posting a single thing in all this time but I have been struggling a lot with body confidence and my eating disorder. For that reason, today I’ll be giving you some tips on how to get over it (I’m still in the process of healing so I thought it would be fun to share with you guys some tips that made me feel better about myself so we can grow and heal together.)

Appreciate all that your body can do

Girls, it’s our body that keep us moving and able to do stuff. Appreciate that! I like to think of my body as it was a baby. If your soul was a mother and your body was a baby, would you treat it like that? Would you starve the baby? Would you hurt it? I honestly hope the answer is no.

Keep a list of things you like about yourself

I do not mean physical stuff. Think about your personality and what you like about it. Are you kind? Are you generous? Are you nice to other people? Keep that in mind and know your worth, You’re more than a body.

Surround yourself with good and positive people

Do I even need to explain?

Do not compare yourself

I know this is something we do automatically when we see a beautiful woman…but can’t we look at her and keep in mind that the fact that she’s beautiful does not make us less beautiful? Also I would consider deleting some apps and unfollowing some people that may trigger you. (DELETE SPECIFICALLY THE CALORIE TRACKER APP!)

Identify your true emotion

What led you to feeling like this? Was it someone? Should you practice shadow work and dig deeper into that?

Fake it till you make it

I know this sounds so annoying but it’s true! If you’re not feeling good and you’re having negative thoughts, replace them by saying some good affirmations about your body. Write it down on your mirror and say them every morning! Don’t even allow yourself to look in the mirror if you know you are not confident the most today!

Be grateful

To be honest, I’m already so proud you took the initiative to come here and look for help. To try and heal. You only have one body and you can choose between hating it and loving it. Be grateful for yourself.

There is a lot more to say but then this would be soooo long. I also recommend to listen to some podcasts that talk about this. I love this woman called Spencer Barbosa. She is really helpful! So I guess it would be nice to check her profile on tiktok. She talks about self love and acceptance.

Love yourseelllf!

Xoxo💋💋

[byneddiedingo]

Lillian Gish at MGM

John Gilbert and Lillian Gish in La Bohème (King Vidor, 1926)

La Bohème (King Vidor, 1926)

Cast: Lillian Gish, John Gilbert, Renée Adorée, George Hassell, Roy D'Arcy, Edward Everett Horton, Karl Dane, Mathilde Comont, Gino Corrado, Eugene Pouyet. Screenplay: Frédérique De Grésac; titles: William M. Conselman, Ruth Cummings; based on a novel by Henri Murger and an opera libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa. Cinematography: Henrik Sartov. Art direction: Cedric Gibbons, A. Arnold Gillespie. Costume design: Erté. Film editing: Hugh Wynn.

Bohème without Puccini, except for a few themes from the opera interpolated into the piano accompaniment for some contemporary prints. The screenplay by Frédérique (billed as Fred) De Grésac is said to be "suggested by Life in the Latin Quarter" by Henri Murger, which is also the source of the opera libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa. But the librettists took liberties with Murger, combining several characters and incidents, that are copied in the movie, so it's pretty clear that De Grésac paid at least as much attention to the opera as he did to Murger. It's very much a vehicle for Lillian Gish, making her debut at MGM. She wanted John Gilbert to play Rodolphe to her Mimi, but sometimes seems to be playing an anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better game with her co-star. There is, for example, a scene in which Gilbert acts out the proposed ending to the play he is writing, with much swashbuckling. Then, a few scenes later, Gish acts it out again with similar verve for a potential backer for the play. Their courtship is a surprisingly hyperactive one, particularly in the scene in which they and their fellow bohemians go on a picnic that involves much running about. And Gish is not content to die calmly: On hearing that she won't live through the night, she makes a mad dash across Paris to be reunited with her lover, at one point allowing herself to be dragged along the streets while hanging onto the back of a horse-cart. Gilbert poses with feet apart and arms akimbo much too often, and the starving bohemians are given to much dashing and dancing. (Among them is the endearing and enduring Edward Everett Horton as Colline.) It's all a bit too much, and I have a feeling that the print I saw shown at the wrong speed, giving it that herky-jerky quality we used to attribute to silent films before experts corrected the speed at which they should be projected. The costumes are by the celebrated designer Erté, who is said to have had so much trouble working with Gish that he gave up designing for Hollywood.

Lars Hanson and Lillian Gish in The Scarlet Letter (Victor Sjöström, 1926)

The Scarlet Letter (Victor Sjöström, 1926)

Cast: Lillian Gish, Lars Hanson, Henry B. Walthall, Karl Dane, William H. Tooker, Marcelle Corday, Fred Herzog, Jules Cowles, Mary Hawes, Joyce Coad, James A. Marcus. Screenplay: Frances Marion, based on a novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Cinematography: Henrik Sartov. Art direction: Cedric Gibbons, Sidney Ullman. Film editing: Hugh Wynn.

I'm pretty sure that any high school students who think they can get by watching Frances Marion's adaptation of Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter instead of reading it are likely to be disappointed in English class. That said, no film version is going to reproduce the depth of characterization, the symbolic force, or the intellectual density of Hawthorne, so we should be grateful for what this one does give us: one of Lillian Gish's greatest performances. This was Gish's second film for MGM, after La Bohème, and it suggests that her talents were better suited to a contemplative director like Victor Sjöström -- or Seastrom, as MGM insisted on anglicizing his name -- than to King Vidor's more action-oriented style. If her Mimi in La Bohème was disturbingly hyperactive, her Hester Prynne is a marvel of understated acting. She uses her eyes and mouth and the tilt of her chin to convey a miraculous range of emotions, from stubbornness to fear, from strength to frailty. It's a pity that her Dimmesdale, Lars Hanson, doesn't match her in subtlety. He's more successful in this regard in their 1928 collaboration The Wind, which was also directed by Sjöström.

[talldarkandroguesome]

17th of Last Seed, Turdas

I have returned from Davon's Watch. Black-Silk-Earth was very grateful for all the business she was able to catch up on. She did not go without me and so the past couple of months has been unable to keep an eye on her side of thing.

She spoke to me about the prices she was seeing her produce selling for and said that she did not think that her people were earning enough for the profit and markups being put upon her goods. I brought her by the market stall and had a word with the manager, Tanur.

We went to his office and discussed the pricing that he was offering and he had said that he had set the price for goods but that there was a higher demand this year so they had raised prices to reflect that.

I intervened, knowing that Tanur was using the funds of the profits to funnel directly into the Nest, and told him that he must increase the amount that was going to those producing the goods, regardless of the exact contracted amount. He should be passing along at least a percentage in line with the mark-up to those who were allowing his business to flourish.

Tanur looked surprised that I was siding with Black-Silk-Earth and seemed to give her a very scrutinizing look before he pulled out his coffers and ledger and began to work on a deal. He calculated the markup percentage and increased the agreed upon payment for goods by the same percentage. I told him to deliver back pay on it as well and he gave me one look before doing so.

He put everything in writing and I watched him count the coin and place it into a box with a lock and hand her the key. I had her ensure that the key worked perfectly and made Tanur give in writing a statement that there would be no more such business issues for me to find. I had entrusted Black-Silk-Earth with my word that her people would be compensated properly for their goods and I intended for that to remain the case.

I escorted Black-Silk-Earth back to the farmers she worked with and then gave my apologies for their having been an issue at all. I asked Black-Silk-Earth to come to me with any such discrepancies right away and promised that I would see that all was handled accordingly. I did not tolerate those who would take advantage of others in my good name and promised, as I had to Tanur before I left, that I would speak to him about how he was running the business. She looked so happy and relieved and told me that she was not expecting so much. I told her that it was well earned. Their produce was far better than what anyone else grew and that considering the food shortages in the spring, those profits should well have gone to them.

Black-Silk-Earth told me she did not expect a Dunmer to see to it that they were treated in any positive way, though she did not say it so forward. I think she was far too well aware that I was her employer on one front and the reason for her other increase of fortune and so she did not wish to express the full ire she felt towards my race. It is understandable. To have people prefer starving than to eat the food that your family and community is starving to provide, hoping for scraps that people refuse you based solely on what you look like, it leaves every right to allow hatred to build within you at any who bear that blood.

I only hope that I can do my part in changing their fortunes. I wish that they could simply sell their wares for the profit. And then it dawned on me, there is no reason why they could not. And so I made a decision. I was going to have Tanur allow at least one of the farmers each day to work at the shop selling the produce. The business is owned by a Dunmer, so people would not flinch at making the purchase. But the price and earnings could be directly taken by the farmers themselves.

My plan, is to have a few of the farmers become regular faces around the market and then have half of Tanur's stall be run and operated by the farmers and the other half by him and his employees.

I spoke to Tanur about this idea and he was not particularly happy. He would lose large profits that way and he said he was already saving up to put a lease on a small shopfront up in northern section of town. He says he has found a group of wealthy regulars to his little gatherings who have asked him if they might be able to have a slightly more exclusive sort of party.

Tanur assures me that the profits they have made from these parties, and they have been able to gain much from their more voracious attendees, has allowed them to come up with the down payment for the rental of the property and the first month, but that they hardly have enough if they do not have the additional profits from the shop to keep it going month to month.

I assured Tanur that we had ways to payments happen. That our small Nest was part of a greater network and that, should there be a feasible plan set up surrounding this idea at some sort of party venue, I could have it arranged.

At that Tanur seemed thrown off. He had not expected such an offer. I told him that I would of course need to know the details, to meet these regulars, and to deem such a venture worthy of consideration by those who pulled the threads.

He brought me back to his home and showed me where he had his plans locked away for safe keeping. Apparently there are some minor nobles who have enjoyed the relaxation of being pampered and having their carnal desires fulfilled. They have friends who are also interested, but many of them do not wish to risk being seen by the more common participants at the parties Tanur hosts. They have offered Tanur more coin to allow them to have exclusive use of the space for one of the nights that Tanur hosts his parties every first and third week of the month. And they often send him messages asking for an exclusive party on one of the off weeks as well.

I considered this. A place where we hosted what amounts to orgies for the rich. Honestly it sounds like what some Nests end up as already. I am sure that Tanur feels very at home in such an environment. And so I asked Tanur if he was still allowing other regulars the other nights. He said that he was, of course, and there were even some he thought might be good additions to our little band.

So I told Tanur I wished to meet the regulars. That he should send word to his regulars of a party with a special guest. That there would be finer food and drink provided and that he should make arrangements to the space he was looking to use and see if they would be willing to take a one week rent to see if the space were big enough for the shop he was looking to open.

I went and took care of my crypt duties and checked in on the family estate before returning with a confirmation from Tanur. He was given one week starting now, to make a decision and get back to them. I told him to get ready and meet me at the Nest, for there was much to do.

I sent word to Zethith that I was ready for the meeting if they would be so kind as to meet me in my office. Then I teleported to the Cathedral of Webs.

Zethith and I spoke about Tanur's plan and my hesitations and hopes. They seemed intrigued by how such a place might be put into use and suggested everything from a meeting place, a space to host events of all sorts, and even, in a manner of a brothel if need be. They were glad to see I was no longer stuck in Elsweyr and I made my apologies again about that saying I would do my best to prevent such things where possible.

We agreed that it was best to try an experiment. A year would be fine. That we would see what could be gained, influence, money, secrets, by having such a place for our use. If any danger seemed to come our way, we would cease all activities immediately.

And so, with Zethith and I in agreement about how to proceed, I made my way back through the portal to the Harborage.

My Spiderilngs were all very excited. Tanur had been filling them in on the plan of a special party. My entrance seemed to only startle Tanur, who had expected me to walk in the front door, rather than to be coming from the Cathedral of Webs.

I was dressed in one of my fine ritual attire and with Farayn putting the last touches on my hair, which she arranged and held together with her own silk. They were all in awe. I urged them to get prepared with a ritual cleansing so that we might start on our prayers early, in order to allow us our time to prepare the space for the evening.

Everyone hurried, Blaze and Effervescent being the first ones to finish, racing against one another as usual. I feel a sort of desire growing between the two of them and hope that it only fuels their continued growth within the Nest. Ebony and Prince were next to finish and I do not wonder if their time training as deathweavers has caused the increased speed in those of my Spiderlings. The others finished soon after and I could see the looks that Ebony and Arrow were exchanging as they stood beside one another. Their relationship seems to continue to grow.

Once everyone was cleansed and prayers were made, I asked them to hold their offerings. Usually they we given with the final rites, but I assured them that the completion would happen once we had finished with out guests and that it was then that we would indulge in the offerings to our Prince. We went over the words to say as we were reaching climax and I played the melody to which they should be sung. They were in Velothis, of course, but I know that the Spiderlings have all been practicing and being able to do it as a group will help with them remembering.

Once I was confident in their abilities, I had everyone change into something nice for the party. Those that did not have anything, I had a few different items that they could wear and many of the Spiderlings were excited by the opportunity to dress up a bit nicer. I had many items that need not be removed or had parts that could stay on at least partially. Everyone bore a bit of red cloth somewhere.

We all went to the new space. It was a fine place with a modest entry space, a couple rooms beyond that must have served as an office and a stockroom, then a good sized open area upstairs for a workroom. There was a small kitchen in the back and a bigger storeroom in the basement.

I had the Spiderlings begin to cleanse and incense the space while Tanur and I went and purchased furnishings to be delivered immediately.

We set up fine silk curtains around the windows in a deep scarlet and with violet accents. The second floor we had beds with abundant cushions and all the fabrics silk of the same scarlet and violet. I had a great chandelier over the large beds.

The entrance had imported carpets and plants in silver planters. Trays aplenty were set up with fine foods and a good stocking of the best wines and spirits and glasses to serve them out of.

The lighting was abundant but not bright. You could see, but always there were places where the shadows seemed to creep in and make you feel the excitement of the forbidden.

The basement was left for a singular purpose, for the one life that would be given in offering. I did not know for sure if one of the guests would be such an offering or not. But if not, then I would hand-select another worthy offering for my Deathweavers to take care of. They must do it in secret from the rest of the Nest and they could choose to work together or separately, but it must be done in the basement and without alerting anyone else. I would let them know their target when the time was right.

They were very interested, particularly Blaze and Effervescent who had not felt as though they had done their best job their previous attempt.

Needless to say, they were excited.

The night went splendidly. The guests who were the non-pretentious regulars seemed to be those of a high libido and or looking for company. There was one who I think could be a good candidate. They seem the type who wants to get away from their current life and to make something more of themselves.

Of the other regulars, I was surprised to see there was two who might be good candidates. Ruthless and cunning sorts. They would certainly have resources to contribute to the Nest.

The beginning of the evening was with anyone who wished to come and it was nice to meet people who were just ready to enjoy the intimacies of one another's company.

I played music for much of the party, moving from room to room, singing songs that would encourage lustful behavior and intensify the sensations of touch, taste, and smell. None of the starting guests had anything even remotely likely to make them a good target and so I was happy to see them leave contented.

I changed the music and my clothing for the more exclusive party. I put on bells and chimes upon my clothing so that I could make music as I moved through the rooms and sung. I used castanets to continue the music and would join in with others here or there as it suited me or to try and learn more of the guests themselves.

There were some possible candidates for offering, but they were the ones who might also be good additions to the Nest and so they were spared.

I went into the street, pretending I was drunkenly stumbling out from the party. The businesses around were not open so late, the streets empty save for less savory types. And so when someone came up with an offer of help and a hand reaching for my purse strings, I played into it and asked if they were there for the party too.

They said they had followed me out to check on me. As I saw that they were a member of the Thieves Guild my certainty of target clicked. They waved to a friend and I asked if their friend was coming with us. They made hand gestures at one another before I run towards them, weaving with supposed drunkenness and grabbed their arm. Another member of the Guild.

I made an excuse about having left my necklace inside and asked if they might help me look for it. The two, realizing that they might find more riches inside agreed. I could hear them chuckle as they entered and saw the finery inside. They took food and drink and I made eye contact with Prince, motioning to the two mer with me.

He nodded and went to get the others. The thieves asked me about the party. I told them that it was my friend's name day and I was getting a little bit naughty with them and drinking until I had a good time, but I was so excited to have met some helpful people.

There was a locked box in the corner and so the one woman began trying to seduce me. I did not play hard to get and allowed the man with her to head towards the lock box. As she stripped me down and we began our intimacies, I heard the approach of one of my Spiderlings.

The thieves were trapped and would have to play along for sure now. The man began to unlace his trousers and pretend as though he was enjoying watching the woman and I. It was Blaze who I saw first and she looked between the man and woman, seemingly unsure. The woman rode me hard, trying to sell herself as my companion and the man began to stroke himself as though he were into it.

Blaze smiled and asked why she had not been invited in on the fun. Effervescent joined right behind, asking if this room was now having some action. Prince, nothing but a vest on, joined next and sat besides the man, following suit and engaging the man in conversation about how much fun it was to watch. Blaze began to play with the woman and Effervescent with her.

I could feel the woman atop me starting to get close, despite herself and I slipped a thin dagger from my hair as her voice rose, I plunged the dagger into her chest, the narrow blade sliding easily between her ribs. Blaze kissed her hard to muffle the sound she was starting to make. The woman began to struggle for breath. I had gotten her in the heart and through a lung. I could see Blaze moving to cover the woman's nose and mouth with her mouth and hand, keeping the woman from getting air.

I heard Prince asking the guy if he wanted some help. The guy knew he was trapped and had to play along. Effervescent joined them and kissed the man. I saw the draw of daggers and heard the whispered prayers of offering a life. The man cried out as the woman began to fall limp. Blaze pulled the woman's face into her cleavage and I slid out from under her, taking the knife out of her chest and wiping it on her unlaced dress.

In similar fashion to what Blaze and I had done, the others worked in tandem, pleasuring the man as they slit his throat and stomach. It was messy, but it did not take long for the two to still and go cold. I was proud of them. And our offerings were made. We washed off with basins of water and then headed upstairs and moved into our song once everyone had found a partner.

With the basement locked tightly and all our guests satisfied, I would call it a good event for all. And dead thieves tell no tales so there will be no sign that anyone was even there. I had Farayn take a message for the bodies to be brought to the spiders of the Nest and they will dispense of them with a good meal.

We had a good talk afterwards where I congratulated those who participated for their hard work. We did lessons.

Then I announced that we would soon be beginning another competition, as we had last year, for who would be the vessel of our Prince for the upcoming Summoning Day. I said there would be three areas I would be assessing. The first, was leadership. The second, competency in the rites and prayers. The third, was in impressing me. I told them that Tanur would explain the rules and guidelines in the morning. Then I took my leave, allowing the anticipation and the excitement to remain.

I have some new kind of energy about me since yesterday, though I do not know what or why. Hopefully my time training with Tanur will help me to relax and make sense of it all.

[marsselines]

JOB’S HOUSE.

AND THE LORD SAID TO SATAN, HAVE YOU CONSIDERED MY SERVANT JOB, THAT THERE IS NONE LIKE HIM ON THE EARTH, A BLAMELESS AND UPRIGHT MAN, WHO FEARS GOD AND TURNS AWAY FROM EVIL?

in the winter of 2015, a christmas mass took place inside what used to be “laura’s diner”. the abandoned building, just a few minutes walk from the grant teton mall, was hollowed out and redecorated, in what was the combination of over a year of work. in the makeshift pulpit was a woman many in the community had met before. some knew her from before the infection, as a vocal community member handing leaflets upon entrance of the church. some knew her from the very first few months, making the dangerous trek to the same church as before, now hosting moments of silent prayer for those left outside the quickly rising qz walls, some knew her from the preaching she did inside her living quarters, once the church was occupied by fedra for storage. in that christmas, a goal was reached. 

the pews were stolen from abandoned churches. the space was small, but fit many. quickly, the empty corners started piling up in boxes, labeled containers, bookshelves too. during events, the pews were leaned against the walls and tables took their place, or even empty space for dancing and mingling. the windows were not boarded up, but the door quickly gained a thick lock. where a menu used to be, was a cross. 

job’s house, as it was both known in the community and self-referred as by marseline well, was inspired by that very biblical lesson - it is a place of gratefulness, humility and perseverance. the world has ended, but the mission to god never ends, and they shall overcome this suffering. marseline well preached that all the time. but it was not just faith that lead to job’s house. community aid was a component from the very beginning. clothes are mended and traded back and forth. the bookshelves are accessible to the community. a few days a week, young children may come in to learn how to read, write, and religious studies. once a month, from the first month onward, devotees reunite spared resources and make a community meal. the children put on plays during christmas, and birthdays, baptisms, weddings and funerals take place inside those walls. 

when alexei volkov’s uprising took place, the church became even more secure in the community, due to marseline’s daughter-in-law’s position as an enforcer, and the amount of other high ranking people who frequent it. after all, soldiers still pray. it is understood that inside job’s house, without interfering or even getting within volkov’s radar, marseline well could do as she pleased. the portion of idaho falls residents affected by her is not even that significant, but rather a devout core group of families and the wandering seekers. however, that peace comes with a prize the priest was more than willing to pay. 

andreas, who had commanded worship in idaho falls right next to marseline well, before the end of the world, commented once on the ration shortages during a particularly tumultuous summer. he held hands around a long dinner table, watery soup in the middle, and quoted directly from the book of job. “the lord gave, and the lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the lord.” but not all of it was scripture. “but this lord has a name, and we should not forget that. the one man who decides if we live or starve in the sun, but his disciples stay full-” andreas was never allowed to finish. marseline gave a single look to some of the taller and bigger devotees, and they escorted the old priest out. he was never allowed back into service or any community activity, and it was said he feared facing marseline far too much to even come in for silent prayer. there is a clear rule inside job’s house: treason is met with exile. after all, the leader has been generous and they don’t want any troubles. 

in 2031, marseline well passed away, and eyes turned to her son, who had been expectedly active in job’s house. since then, not much has changed. the leader died during a potential turning point that never got fully turned, as the church adapted to the new needs of the world. the baseline as well as iconography was and is still catholic, but the ways of service slowly blended over the years, much to the excitement or dismay of some churchgoers. even the faith, itself, has become far more mixed, bringing in elements from various others. archie well kept that model without ever adding onto it. whilst marseline well had an iron fist, archie is respected and liked, but none of his gazes command a room. there have been questions about the future of job’s house, especially as it grows in members and itches at the seams. 

nowadays, church is always open. during the day, members have roles and schedules, taking shifts to simply upkeep and protect the space. people come and go to pray in silence, listen to preaching, the reading of scripture, return a book and take a coat, drop the children off for school. during the night, those with the keys often do come in too and leave the door unlocked behind them during the duration of whatever brings them there. it is not hard to ask to come into job’s house, nor is it to find it, as one of the few nearby buildings with clear upkeep, and the small wooden board over the entry door, spelling out the name of the holy sanctuary. 

job’s house was mostly spared from the terrible storm of may of 2044, safe for a few broken windows. in the aftermath, it is a place of mourning, aid collecting, hope, and perhaps even fear of more divine retribution.

[thegreenleavesofspring]

what are twenty things that you are thankful for?

I had to think about this one for longer than I really should've, I'm not nearly in the habit of counting my blessings as much as I should.

Obviously the first on the list is my three boys. I cannot (and do not want to) imagine life without them. I love these children with my whole heart, even if I am very imperfect parent.

Another fairly obvious second is a handful of very dear friends, who have been invaluable supports and aids in a very trying time of late, mentally and emotionally and spiritually and financially.

I am both awed and grateful for the unexpected success of the Salt and Light tag, and the knowledge it is helping people.

The rest of the items are of a fairly personal nature.

I am grateful that when CPS showed up on my doorstep, the police officers she brought with her pressured her not to take my children

I am grateful that my abusive husband took the no-contact order from CPS as an excuse to entirely cut us off financially - removing my last inhibitions to divorcing him and freeing myself and my boys entirely from his cruelty

I am unspeakably grateful for the friends who have ensured that my boys and I are not destitute and starving in the streets

Following on that, my mother who has kindly driven us to the store to get groceries and to various vendors to ensure we are not without amenities and necessities for my work, despite being in equally dire circumstances

For the wonderful, wonderful people with whom I have spent the entirety of the last week on the phone trying to arrange affairs that my husband canceled - phone service and internet and necessities for our lease and medical records and police records - such sweet wonderful helpful people, made an onerous chore much less onerous

Grateful that Sam's was running an online promotion that allowed someone to get a membership for $25!

Grateful that our roommate was able to willing to take on the entirety of rent next month (that my husband usually pays 2/3 of) while I sort out my messy sordid affairs

Grateful that I had the money to restart services and pay necessities

Grateful for a good computer and a working phone to allow me to work and earn money to care for my children and connect with the outside world

Grateful that God is using what my husband intended for ill to deliver me and my boys from a cruel, violent man

Grateful for my son's speech therapist, who has helped him so much and advocated for him tirelessly

So very glad my children and I have enough food now

That we are safe and warm inside our home

That the landlord has been helpful and cooperative and kind - and changed the locks the same day I requested it

That none of us were seriously injured in the incident that led to CPS being informed

So very grateful for the largely, overwhelmingly positive reaction Salt and Light has gotten

For a God Who is a Father, a Comforter, a Succorer, Who cares for the fatherless and widows, with Whom nothing is impossible, Who turns all things to the good of those who are the called according to His purpose, Who is endlessly patient with His flailing whining children, Whose love is so deep and wide it fills all the heavens and cannot be conceived or measured, Who is righteous and just and holy, and Who yet cares for the smallest and least of these His creations, Who loves His children in ways that I (who would go to war for my sons) cannot even begin to comprehend.

[catgirl-catboy]

Would fall into mlm scheme-

*Coughs* Kakeru x Kinji i guess?

He saved us from Tsurugi's wrath just being existing, we should grateful for him...

And what is your remnants headcanons?? I love remnants more than my life I need to know people's opinions on them

Oh hell yess! My Remnant headcanons can go on for days!

CW: a buncha fucked up shit. This is your dead dove tag. Also, none of this is Dr3 compliant because Dr3 was made by cowards that didn't show much gore.

First off, can I drop someone else's fic? This Kazuichi fic is absolutely horrifying, and I am afraid of the person who can think that up. The other one-shots in the fic are good too, but this one... fantastic.

Sonia decides she despises all of the pressure she's put under being a queen, and wants to abdicate. Junko won't allow this, thinking that staying as a princess will cause her despair. Kazuichi makes a robot meant to perfectly imitate her. (I imagine he gets gross with it, but nothing explicitly illegal happens) Gundam actually takes over the running of the kingdom, leaving him no time to take care of his Devas.

Sonia decides to give up on both being a princess and a person, and mostly just does the first impulsive thing she can think of. If she wants to try something she heard in a true crime podcast, she does. Cut all of her hair off, sure. why not!

I imagine she'd rarely communicate people other than Kazuichi and Gundam verbally. Most of the time, she just makes noises or is creepily silent.

Remember how in Ultra Despair Girls, becoming Junko was a big thing? Fuyuhiko wants to become Natsumi. Peko objects to this, so he donates her to Mikan. (more on Mikan later.)

He tries to forget that he ever held a differing opinion than Natsumi.

He's one of the few despairs that doesn't kill his parents. Why would the golden child ever do such a thing?

Mikan worked on the Kamukura project. It was her first human experiment, but it wasn't the last.

She does unethical experiments on people, and is by far the most terrifying despair. It isn't even about knowledge for her anymore. Its about control. She's done lobotomies on several people, so she has staff that unflinchingly follows her orders.

Fuyuhiko donates Peko to her cause, but she escapes with minimal damage.

Hiyoko isn't so lucky. Mikan manages to capture her early into the Tragedy. Almost everyone suspects Mikan has her, but nobody wants to say anything.

She does a reverse Izuru and manages to remove Hiyoko's talent. Her feet look fine. But her sense of balance is almost completely destroyed, making her extremely clumsy.

Mikan doesn't stop there. She makes Hiyoko extremely dependant on her to do basic tasks like eating and getting dressed, while not causing her much physical injury. (I imagine Mikan undoes some but not all of it post Dr2) Mikan loves this. Imagine a complete role reversal where Hiyoko has to be super polite to Mikan so Mikan doesn't hurt her worse, while Mikan is just batshit insane.

The only one aware of Hiyoko's whereabouts is Mahiru. She documented the whole thing, along with most of the other crimes the despairs have committed.

Mahiru is the only despair with an intact sense of morality, but it doesn't stop her from acting. She's just an observer. Really.

She observes everyone she's close to fall into despair, and doesn't notice her slipping into it herself.

After Junko made it clear that Sonia was never going to date him, Kazuichi gives up on romance as a concept. He's still very horny, but it never really goes anywhere.

I imagine he's had sex with pretty much every attractive person he meets. None of the measure up to Sonia.

Also, I imagine he'd likely be the one to give himself tattoos, and that they'd be related to his Ultimate. Practical.

Akane starving herself is Dr2 canon, but I imagine she also starved her siblings. Slowly. She was tired of being the brave one, so she killed them.

I imagine that she takes up smoking to kill her taste buds.

She's the type who will needlessly endanger her own life just to feel something.

Nekomaru is angry and bitter about the fact that out of these fuck-ups, he's the one most likely to die first. As a result, he will attempt to murder the other remnants. His body isn't strong enough to be as much of a threat.

I know the fanon is that Kaz built the executions for Junko, but I like to imagine Nekomaru helped with the phycological aspects. A coach knows how to bring out both the best and the worst in people.

Horrible influence for Akane.

I like Ultra Despair Girls so Servant is canon to me, but I'd like to imagine that he keeps waffling back and forth on if he wants his talent removed like Hiyoko.

I also imagine that he makes it very easy for strangers to attempt to murder him. It never works.

Izuru discovers he likes the sensation of pain. (I don't mean it in a sexual way but if you do thats cool dw.) He tries to seek out and experience the most painful things the world has to offer, to see if something more painful than boredom exists. It doesn't.

Ibuki regresses to how she was before she quit her old band. Incredibly self-conscious of how others view her and ready to follow the crowd. The crowd screams for bloodshed, so she delivers! She should be happy, right?

The Ult. Impostor mutilates themselves to the point where they won't be able to successfully impersonate someone ever again. You can't hide those scars. They are a nobody, and they took away their choice to even be seen as a somebody.

Peko is in a depressive state throughout the entire plot post Fuyuhiko. She doesn't do much of anything, but she could never raise a hand against him.

Teruteru absolutely did some shit with that Mondo butter, thats all I'm saying. All of the Dr1 kid's corpses were probably stolen by the kids, not just Junko.

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Healing Ties - Epilogue

THE END

*Warning Adult Content*

Fanner blinked his eyes open, head foggy and muscles aching.

He was starving, thirsty, and his bladder felt close to bursting.

He felt deep sympathy for Yore as he hobbled to the bathroom to relieve himself, his body frail and sore.

From the light coming in from outside, it was clearly deep into the next day, so Fanner was surprised to find Yore sitting on the couch in the main room, reading a book.

He surely had more important things to do.

Yore set his book aside and gave Fanner a sympathetic smile as he opened up his arms.

"You look miserable."

Fanner made a grumbling sound as he sank into Yore's embrace.

"Moving the energy. Too much."

"Too much," Yore agreed. "We need to take better care of you."

"Hmm. Feed me?"

Yore laughed and got up.

He walked over to the table, picked up a covered plate, some glasses and a pitcher and brought them over to the small coffee table in front of the couch.

He pulled the cloth off the plate to reveal a feast of different foods, including pastries, fresh fruit and fish.

"A few people have come by to check in, and they all brought food."

"Oh," Fanner said. "I hope they haven't been waiting on me. I slept for a long time, didn't I?"

"They're concerned about you, grateful for you. Everyone knows the things you've done to make this situation work. They respect you, Fanner."

Fanner didn't know what to say to that.

Nothing in his training, nothing he'd ever experienced, had prepared him for respect or gratitude.

Yore offered him a glass of water and he gulped it down, grateful to have an excuse not to speak.

"It's overwhelming, I know," Yore said. "Just because it's positive doesn't mean it can't be intimidating to have so much attention on you."

"Thank you," Fanner told him.

"I told you what I needed from you and you've just... given it to me. You listened and you didn't try to convince me that I should stand on my own or... or anything, really. You just listened."

"You've always known what you needed and clearly you were right because you've been finding your voice and your confidence. If I've helped you feel safer as you did that, I'm glad."

"You did."

Fanner focussed on eating after that.

He'd never felt so hungry in his life.

He could tell he'd done physical damage to himself from moving all that energy around.

It was nothing serious, though.

It reminded Fanner of the kind of microtears people got in their muscles when they exercised.

Maybe he would become absolutely ripped from moving energy around, including in places people didn't even know could become muscular.

His eyeballs hurt.

Fanner had eaten more than he'd thought his stomach could contain and was finally slowing down when there was a knock on the door.

Yore went to answer it.

It was one of the Orc guards.

"Human man here," the Orc said.

"You're going to have to be more specific," Yore said.

"Human man from human camp."

"Ah, Reid? Okay, send him in."

"Hmm," the Orc said. "Don't know if man man from man camp allowed in."

"All right, we'll talk to him outside."

Fanner got up from the couch.

He felt like a feeble old man when he started walking but he was fairly sure this was how Yore felt all of the time, so he wasn't going to complain.

It was a good reminder to make time for Yore even if he would never ask Fanner to prioritise him.

It was indeed Reid outside, standing with a group of Centaurs.

They looked surprisingly comfortable together.

Reid gave them a wave and walked over towards Yore and Fanner.

"Well, we're heading off," Reid told them when he reached them.

"Already?" Yore asked.

"We'll come back in smaller numbers when we're invited, but having an army sitting on land that isn't ours doesn't feel right any more."

"Things are going well, then? There hasn't been too much push back?"

"Well." Reid brushed his hand down his chest, indicating the coat he was wearing.

Fanner hadn't noticed it at first but it was the same coat the general had been wearing last night.

It was a little tight on him.

"I'm a general now, I suppose, which is interesting because there isn't anybody with the authority to make me one out here. It turns out that those things matter a lot less than I thought in the face of an army thousands of men strong. What they say holds a lot of weight, and they say that they want change."

"But there were still people who needed my help," Fanner said.

"I didn't finish healing everyone."

"You did plenty," Reid said. "Nobody's on death's door anymore, and that's all they need. If some of the men face long recoveries from their injuries and are left with scars to remember them by, maybe that's for the best. The things we did shouldn't be forgotten."

"How will we contact you?" Yore asked.

"We're bringing Atticus, Liam, and Cailan with us as ambassadors. They'll help with that, I'm sure."

"Do you think this is it?" Fanner asked. "That slaves, all of us, will finally be free?"

"I think it's the first step towards that," Reid said.

"It'll be a process. Ideally, it has to be. If everyone tossed their slaves out to fend for themselves overnight, there would be chaos. We need to figure out what everyone needs and where they're going to go. But yes, I think we'll get there. We put everything we had into this army, so there really isn't an opposing force left back home to push back. I think we're all sick of listening to bureaucrats who I'm sure knew more about what was really out here than they let on. We thought we were here to fight monsters, not thinking, feeling people with their own communities and cultures."

"If I can help, I... well, I mean, um..." Fanner said, stumbling over his words as he realised he hadn't known where he was going with this sentence when he started it.

"I can't go with you. Or I won't. But if you ever need anything and you can come here..."

"Thank you," Reid said.

"For that and for a lot of other things. I should go, though. I want to stop in to see Hamish before we head off and I don't want to keep everyone waiting too long."

"Good luck," Yore said. Reid let out a breath, nodded, and headed back to the centaurs.

"What do we do now?" Fanner asked Yore. "What can we do?"

Yore wrapped an arm around Fanner's shoulders and guided him back towards The Spire.

"Let's go back to bed."

THE END

[hangedtragedy]

Okay but can we talk about how crazy and frustrating can transitional phases in our life be? When you move schools, grow up, move countries. People always say "I know it's difficult, but it's gonna get better", "you should be grateful and ONLY GRATEFUL, for the job you don't really like but still have to do for now", "you have to accept without a word that some dreams are impossible even tho they seem closer now you aged a bit".

You move countries, with nothing but your high school, you're not allowed to work, you still have traumas related to being a financial burden to your family, and it looks like it's better: you can work a bit, even tho is not necessarily legal for you to work yet nor is it a job you really like but "it's not that bad" and "you need to be grateful because some people can't even have that" and that's so stupid!

It's always, "some people don't have an opportunity like yours doing this standard illegal immigrant 'women's' work" but do we need to be happy about everything? Can you not be grateful but not be happy? Or can't you just think about the money and fuck everything else because capitalism is a bitch and if I didn't have this job someone probably as unhappy with having this as their last resource would be assigned to it?

But this is not my last resource. And I end up in this limbo like situation where I'm not currently doing anything to move from it because the circumstances won't allow me and still I have to do it as a part of my daily life without being sure of when it will end, when it will get better. Is a transition. But a uncertain transition in I don't know when it will end, if it will end, if I'll really have opportunities I wanted.

Is the pressure of knowing that things are getting worse in the world and I will be just one of the million guys out there that want to be a singer but will never make it, and maybe childcare won't make me happy but at least satisfied and I may be able to get enough money to travel here an there but will I get enough money to travel - which is something I like a lot - and save for a house or something so I don't end up on the streets and starving and being a burden once again once I'm unable to use my strength to work?

Everything is so fucking uncertain and I hate that! I only work a couple of days a week currently but every time I get out to do this "job" I feel like I'm nailing it as a possibility. IT IS NOT A POSSIBILITY, I DON'T WANT TO STAY WHERE I AM! And still it turns into such a daily routine, such a normal thing for me to do that it seems acceptable when it's not! If I'll never do what I dream of, I want to at least do something that may spark me joy here and there.

It's just... kinda dumb, isn't it? But yeah, I dont really know how to close the thought and im late to "work" so yeah😅

[theundercoversquid]

Fighting and making up

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Request: Can we have more Lewis please - where reader is in a relationship with him but like fights & makeups? thank u xx 

Paired with: haaii:) i’d like to request a fight and makeup with Lewis ? it could be a drabble

Warnings: a verbal fight

Masterlist

You were so tired and fed up. Your week had been hell with all the extra work you had to do. And stepping into the kitchen, you realised that you didn't have the energy to make a meal from scratch. Your brain was too tired to even take in the ingredients and come up with something to cook for dinner.

Yawning, you grabbed your phone and pulled up Uber Eats instead. Once in a while, you didn't feel too bad about getting Uber Eats.

“What do you feel like for dinner, Love?” You called out for Lewis. “I‘m ordering Uber Eats.”

“Can’t you cook, Love?” Lewis asked as you stepped into the living room. “I don't want to risk the extra calories at the moment.”

Mildly miffed, you looked up to see Lewis lazily sprawled across the sofa with Roscoe by his feet. “I’m not up to cooking tonight, Lew.” You told him. “You are welcome to cook for yourself if you want.”

“I know, but I'm too tired to cook.” Lewis has complained.

“I’m tired as well, Lew.” You told him firmly. If he wanted you to make the food, you were ordering takeaway.

“You haven't been doing anything all day, though.” Lewis had complained like a moody teenager.

And to be honest, at that, you had exploded.

“Just because I don't drive fancy cars around for a living doesn't mean I am not doing anything.” You had told Lewis. An angry edge to your voice. “I had a terrible week. Lewis, thanks for asking. It's nice to know how much you care.”

“All I asked was for you to cook dinner,” Lewis told you. “Not like it's anything hard.”

“Well, if it's not so hard, why don't you do it yourself then?” You asked him rhetorically.

“Because it's not my job.” Lewis has told you. And by his face, you knew that he had realised that he had royally screwed up. And at his comment, you had felt all the anger drain out of your body as pure exhaustion set in instead.

“I'm sorry, love.” Lewis had then rushed to amend, leaping off the sofa. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“I'm sure you didn't.” You told Lewis coldly as you turned away. “I'm going to bed.”

And with that, you had turned, ignoring all his pleas to return. Lewis followed you to your bedroom. When you got there, you opened the door and stepped in. You allowed Roscoe to follow you before you shut the door in Lewis's face.

Lewis had gotten the message at that point as he turned away. Lewis was determined to fix this somehow.

****

It was probably about half an hour later when you heard a knocking on the door. By then, you had taken a shower. Done your nighttime routine and climbed into bed with Roscoe. And currently, the two of you are happily cuddling in bed.

Clambering out of bed, you figured you should probably make amends with Lewis. And get some food as you were starving.

When you opened the door, Lewis stood sheepishly on the other side. 

"I ordered your favourite burger and French fries." He murmured. "They have just arrived and are downstairs."

"Thank you, Lew." You smiled. Grateful at the prospect of food.

Gently Lewis took your hand as he led you to the dining room. Walking, you were greeted with dimmed lights and flickering candles and a bunch of flowers in the middle of the table.

"Thank you for doing this, love." You grinned at him.

"It was the least I could do after being a bad partner." Lewis apologised, placing a kiss on your head. "I'm sorry for what I said. I crossed the line. I am grateful for all your cooking and took advantage of it. And I shouldn't have. I am sorry for that."

"It's okay." You murmured up to him. "What you said hurt. But we are both tired and hungry."

"I love you." Lewis smiled. Loading a kiss to your head. "Even when I don't act like it."

"I love you too." You smile up at him. "Now, how about we have our supper."

And with that, the two of you sat down to eat. And the two of you had a conversation and what had been wrong and what you could do to stop it from happening again. Because you were too grown-up adults in a series relationship, you weren't going to let something as small and stupid as an idiotic argument caused by tiredness and hunger drive you apart.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Dinner

"Did you want to get food after this?" Giyu held out a packet of pills from Shinobu which you gratefully took. "Thank you. Yes please, we haven't eaten since before the fight and now I'm starved" you chuckled, apologizing to Aoi who was trying to bandage the gash on your thigh. "If you keep moving you're going to rip the stitches" Aoi scolded you, sitting back to assess the bandages she worked hard to keep in place. She was a diligent worker, following the careful instructions Shinobu had left her with before she left the office to go on a   mission. "Okay, you should be okay. I'll let Shinobu know you got everything. Make sure you come back if you rip them. You both aren't allowed missions for a week." Aoi gave a curt bow and left the room, carrying away her tray of supplies.

"A whole week, do you think we could make out with a romantic getaway?" You accepted the hand Giyu had offered to you, feigning ignorance at the sight of his rose-colored cheeks after your comment. Ever so passive, giyu went along with what you wanted. In honesty though, he would let you lead him anywhere, he wanted to get swept up in your ferocity, the temper that had kept you alive after the fallout with your last living relative. He wanted to get washed away in the ocean that was you. So, with a blush on his cheeks and an ever so subtle skip in his step, he assisted you out of the butterfly mansion, carrying your small pouch of supplies and adjusting the rests on the crutches you were given to ease the burden of stitches right above your knee. "Let's go to my estate, so you don't have to walk too far" he paused, testing the waters before he dove in. "I would like to cook for you" he had basically just confessed his love to you and you were shaking your head no. “I think we should celebrate Giyu! Our first official mission as a couple and it was beyond a success, not one death and even better!” you raised your wrist, showing off the braided bracelet that dangled underneath your uniform sleeve. “Matching couple bracelets!” He hesitantly raised his arm, haori sleeve falling down his arm to reveal the matching bracelet tied around his wrist. You smiled as he looked between the two bracelets, not entirely understanding the excitement. The confusion quickly faded from his mind as he looked back at your smiling face, admiring the way your eyes squinted in joy as you let out a small squeal of excitement. “Then let’s eat, then we can get you to rest, okay?” you nodded, happily hobbling behind him as he made his way down the path to your favorite restaurant. The walk took longer than you had hoped it would have, the restaurant was already packed by the time the two of you had arrived, the usual quiet atmosphere was very different during dinner time than it was in the early morning when the two of you met up after the mission. “My two favorite lovebirds, please I have a quieter spot in the back for you two, are you alright sweetheart, come, come” The grandma that ran the restaurant was quick to spot the two of you, huddled close to each other with scared looks on your faces at the dinner rush. She waved at the two of you to follow her, maneuvering around the tables to a curtained booth towards the kitchen. “It’s usually reserved for meetings but I think it will fit the two of you. The usual?” Giyu nodded at her and you smiled, thanking her as she rushed off. “I love it here. She’s always so nice” you sighed, leaning on the palm of your hand as you looked at Giyu. “What’s wrong?” his eyebrows furrowed as he looked up, eyes avoiding yours as he hesitated to answer. You were always grateful for how quickly he had opened up to you. You had quickly found solace in his quiet demeanor, finding him easy to talk to and let out your feelings. He mostly hummed in acknowledgment at everything you said, but it told you he was listening and that meant more than he knew. Following your lead, he eventually responded in sentences, albeit short ones. But they were sentences. He told you about his best friend, a strong slayer, who had perfected water-breathing before Giyu had. He was expressive as he retold short stories of their mischievous childhood together under the former water hashira. Eventually, he told you his pains, his insecurities. You began reading him a lot easier during his stories, his eyes showed everything he felt, he knew they did. That’s why he looked away. “Giyu” you reached out for one of his hands resting on the table, grasping it in your own. “Did I upset you? Did you get hurt?” he looked down at your interlocked hands "Do you think everyone knows?" "About us?" He hummed, sitting back into the small booth, taking a deep breath to try and ease his anxieties that were tensing his shoulders. "maybe. Why does it matter?" “I don’t want them to” your head tilted, confusion overtaking your features as you look at his frown. “Why? Do you not want to be with me?” You pulled your hand out of his palm resting against your chest as you waited for a reply. He sighed “I do, very much. It’s just easier to keep you to myself, that’s all” He avoided your gaze, choosing instead to distract himself with the curtains that hid you from the rest of the restaurant's patrons. “Well, are you worried about Shinazugawa and Iguro? because you have nothing to worry about. They won’t say anything in front of me. I’ll bite” you smiled at the shocked look on Giyu’s face. “That is. Unnecessary.” “Now that I think about it. Does Urokodaki know?”Giyu's eyes widened at the mention of his master’s name. He hadn’t even thought of telling him, the usual business as usual when he sent letters.”You didn’t tell him!” your head fell into your hands, laughter bubbling in your chest as you thought of the former water pillars shock when he finds out about your 5-month relationship. Giyu had been to his house multiple times since your first date and had very obviously not brought up the fact that his old friend’s student was dating his own. “I will mention it in my next letter” Your response was cut off by the arrival of your food, the owner smiling wide as she placed the bowls of food in front of you. “Enjoy you two, please let me know if you need anything more” With a final bow the owner left you two. Giyu turned his attention straight towards his bowl of Salmon Daikon, effectively ending the conversation for now as you dug into your own bowl.

~

“So, back to earlier” you prompted as the two of you left the still busy restaurant “We should probably tell Urokodaki, he’ll be thrilled. Maybe a bit confused, he’s going to ask a lot of questions.” Giyu nodded as you spoke, walking slowly next to you as you hobbled next to him. “Do you want to stay at my house tonight? It’s a lot closer than yours and you need to rest your knee” You paused in your step, crutches sliding on the rock below you at the sudden halt. Giyu was quick in his movement, grabbing hold of your waist before you toppled into the dirt road on your hurt leg. “B-Be careful. You’re hurt” Pulling away the second you straightened out Giyu continued on the way towards his home. Not sparing you a second glance as you came to your senses. “You just asked me to spend the night with you and you're embarrassed about me being close! Hey! Quick walking so fast! GIYU!”

A/N: Not ruining Giyu’s life? didn’t know i could do that. 

[lovely-angst]

the first time they meet you

a/n: im trying things out with doing three quick fics with one prompt. lmk how you like it.

genre: fluff

pairing: bakugou x reader, hawks x reader, dabi x reader

summary: the first time he sees/meets you

word count: 1.6k

08.04.21

bakugou - coffee shop

it was a long, long day of patrol for bakugou.

he had so much on his plate that day from staying late the night before to finish some reports and then having to wake up early for his daily patrol—not to mention all of the inconveniences of catching and apprehending some wannabe villains.

thankfully, he was able to get off work by the time the had begun to set. golden hues decorating the evening sky as bakugou walked back towards his apartment.

his feet were sore and ached from being on his toes all day. all bakugou wanted to do was to relax in the comfort and silence of his home.

taking a seat on a short concrete block wall, bakugou pulls the mask up over his eyes to push his bangs back, allowing the subtle breeze to cool him down as he took a small breather from his exhaustion.

he didn't have the energy to do anything.

"dynamight?" a small voice calls out before bakugou turns his head in their direction. you stood a few feet away from him timidly, but a smile on your face as you gently approached the unapproachable male.

"sorry, i'm not doing any autographs or pictures right now," he mumbled out exhaustedly, but to his surprise, you shook your head. "no, i'm not here for that," you say before taking a step back to gesture towards the cafe behind you, "i was wondering if you would like to come in and i can quickly get you something to eat and drink?"

bakugou glanced over at the empty cafe before glancing back at you and back at the cafe.

"it was a shock to see you outside the cafe and you look really exhausted. it's the least i can do for you," you continue, "you don't have to worry about fans, i'm about to close the cafe right now, so no one should be coming,"

bakugou knew that he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself when his feet ached with every step and the tiredness was beginning to consume his body.

"fine, just this once," he answered, pushing himself up and off the concrete before following you, who beamed with happiness.

as you walked in, you held the door open for the pro hero before you stepped back out to grab the menu board before flipping the sign from 'open' to 'close', letting the door shut behind you.

"would you like some coffee? or do you prefer tea?" you question as you walk behind the counter, preparing a few things for him. bakugou sat down at one of the empty tables, glancing around at the peaceful and aesthetic atmosphere.

"tea," he states, "i'm not a big coffee person," you hum in response, "i'll get you one of our refreshing tea drinks then. i think you'll like it."

it wasn't long before you came back out with a thirst-quenching drink and a nice hearty little sandwich with it.

"i added a sandwich for you filled with healthy and light ingredients so it'll give you the energy to finish your day. i hope the drink is to your liking as well," you explain, listing out the different ingredients, "i'll be here cleaning up while you finish. take your time."

bakugou was very thankful for the sandwich if he was honest—he was starving, having skipped his lunch earlier. taking a bite of the sandwich, he noted the different textures and flavors that mixed well together. ontop of that, the drink was great by itself and even better with the sandwich.

his eyes drifted off towards you, who bobbed your head gently to the quiet background music of the cafe, moving in every which way to finish closing up your shop.

after quickly finishing off his small meal, he brought the dishes back to you and you happily accepted them, declining to accept any payment, "it's on me! you enjoying the meal is more than enough!"

"also, why not try stopping by during one of your early shifts for some coffee? relax and refuel before your long day as a hero?," you suggest with those bright eyes of yours.

bakugou couldn't help the slight lift of the corner of his lips, "i might just have to."

-

hawks - after a mission

hawks had just gotten done with a rather stressful rescue due to the many kids on the site he had to protect. thankfully he had all of his feathers and was able to use them to protect the kids while his sidekicks were busy securing the villain.

"are you kids okay?" hawks questioned as he was able to usher them into a safe corner away from the action. "i'm okay mr.hawks!"

hawks let out a small smile before patting the young child on the head. "where is miss (name)?"

hawks opened his mouth just as a soothing yet worried voice cut through the sirens and the commotion. turning around, hawks laid his eyes on you and his heart skipped a beat.

stepping aside from the kids, you ran over towards the children before kneeling down on their level to give them all hugs, checking them over for any injuries, "oh, i'm so glad you are all safe! i was so worried! are you okay? are you hurt anywhere?"

one of the little girls shook their head before pointing up at hawks, "i'm okay! mr.hawks saved us!"

turning around, you quickly stood up before giving him a very polite bow, "thank you so much, hawks! i am forever grateful!"

"no need to be so formal! i'm just doing my job," he responds with a smile, only for panic to set in when he sees the blood streaming down from your head. "miss! your head is bleeding, we need to get you checked out!"

"oh, i think this is from when I blocked the kids earlier from falling debris. i feel fine," you respond, which makes hawks worry even more.

hawks quickly calls for his sidekicks to stay with the children while he goes to get you checked up on. thankfully, there was a medical team nearby and hawks waited with you as they patched you up.

"again, thank you so much for saving my kids back there. I don't know what i would do if they had gotten hurt. you're an amazing hero." you compliment, sitting on the back of an ambulance as the medic carefully wraps your head to stop the bleeding.

"i could say the same about you," hawks starts, "you didn't hesitate to risk your life for those kids—you're the real hero. "

a shy smile forms on your lips as you look away from the very handsome man in front of you, "well, i love my kids. i'd do anything for them."

hawks couldn't help but admire you.

"i'm (name) by the way," you say, holding a hand out towards the hero. hawks smiles at you, reaching over to give your hand a firm shake.

"hawks. nice to meet you, (name)."

dabi - flower shop

dabi usually hated the rain, but today, he was thankful for it.

he had just escaped from some pro heroes and hid in a small alleyway in a quiet part of town away from any heroes. the cool droplets of water felt refreshing on his burning skin after overusing his quirk. though, he wasn't sure the injuries he sustained would heal quickly with the rain.

hearing a small bell ring, dabi quickly pressed himself up against the wall as he listened for any movement.

"ah it's raining!" a voice called out before their alarmed footsteps ran about, causing the puddles to splash every which way. suddenly, a pail of flowers fell into his view before you quickly bent down to pick them back up.

sensing someone staring, you turned and your eyes were met with his bright blue ones, causing you to squeak and fall back, "y-you scared me!" you cried before picking yourself back up and frowning at your dirtied outfit.

"hey, are you okay?" you asked as you carefully walked toward him. "you're bleeding! let me go get a medical kit," you explained before running around the corner to your flower shop.

but dabi knew better.

you were going to call the heroes on him, you only used that as an excuse to get away. standing up with all of the power he could muster, dabi limped his way down the street as far as he could—away from you.

"hey! where are you going!" you cried as dabi heard more splashes behind him, your small pitter-patters against the puddles.

turning around, dabi's eyes widened as he watched you chase after him in the rain, your hair getting wet with the rain and sticking to your face as you caught up with the male.

"let's hide from the rain over here," you say as you gently help dabi away from the rain before settling him down on a bench. "don't you know who i am?" dabi asked frustratedly, but you just continued to clean and dress his wounds. "sorry, i don't, but i can care less about that right now," you respond to dabi's surprise.

dabi watched as you carefully cleaned him up, watching the raindrops slide down your soft skin.

"that should do it," you say, standing back with a smile. dabi follows your movements, "thanks doll, but i gotta run," he responds, throwing his hood over his head.

"oh, well, stay safe then," you respond as the two of you enter back into the rain. he gives you a playful smile before vanishing from your view.

walking back to your flower shop to finish bringing your flowers back, you thought that would be the last of him. but to your surprise a few days later, tied onto the handle of your shop was a blue rose with a note attached,

'thanks for the other day, doll.

- dabi'