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dogbearinggifts · 4 years ago

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What are your thoughts on tua S2? Did you feel like the characters grew? What did you like? What did you not? I’m interested in your perspective. Your analysis are super thoughtful and interesting!

Aw, thanks, Anon!

Overall, I really enjoyed S2 and thought it was a solid follow-up to S1. I do have my quibbles about it, so I think (for ease of reference and because my thoughts are a little scattered today) I’ll list some of my personal highlights (in no particular order) before getting into what I didn’t like as much.

Big spoilers ahead.

Allison. I thought they handled her storyline especially well. Of all the siblings, I think she had the most difficult obstacles placed in her way (not only is she a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas, but she’s a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas who can’t even speak in her own defense for a year) and they sugarcoated exactly none of it. The writers pulled no punches when showing what civil rights protesters went through, which just made their nonviolent response all the more breathtaking. Allison’s fear and anger during those scenes were palpable even as she kept them hidden. But along with that horror, we see the kindness and warmth of the Dallas Black community, the women who take her in simply because she needs their help, and her love for Ray, perhaps heretofore THE most thoughtful husband ever portrayed on screen. I loved him, and I loved him and Allison together. While I understand and respect his choice to stay in 1963, I wish they’d gotten more time together. They both deserved it.

Vanya. We got to see how much the baggage from her past affected her by glimpsing what she might be like if it were taken away. It’s an interesting philosophical question, and it was explored well, in my opinion. She finds it easier to love and be loved, and she stands up for herself more readily—but she also doesn’t hesitate to use powers she can’t quite control and threatens Five without fully realizing how dire her threat is (or how it might dredge up traumatic memories she doesn’t know exist). The moment where Ben finds her curled up, fully convinced she’s a monster, was heartbreaking. I loved watching her find happiness with Sissy, even if that was fleeting (and dear god, Sissy deserved her happy ending with Vanya, dammit, I don’t care if it would fuck up the timeline). Her patience and sweetness with Harlan were just beautiful. And the way she used the confidence she gained during her amnesia to fully come into her own not to exact revenge on her siblings, but to save them, was fucking phenomenal.

The humor. There was a lot more humor this season, and it was awesome. So many iconic scenes—Olga Foroga, Luther babysitting two homicidal Fives, Elliot awkwardly lecturing his guests on the history of Jello, “NEW TIMELINE NEW ME,” “Your vagina needs glasses,” AJ the fish gobbling up the cigarette bubbles, Five getting to say “fuck”….this season was a lot funnier than the previous one, and I think that was one of its strengths.

Klaus’ cult. It was played for laughs, which I both expected and thought was the best way to handle it. He didn’t want to start a new religion with himself at the center; he just wanted to not get thrown out of any more diners, but Destiny’s Children had other ideas. The “I too am a fraud!” scene was hilarious and tickled the question of whether or not a religion founded on false pretenses can still help those within it find meaning.

Luther. Getting him away from his dad, his siblings, and the Academy was exactly what he needed to become the pure of heart and dumb of ass genius we always knew he was, but his first major step in that direction was heartbreaking. We all knew he’d be rejected once he got to the Academy. We all knew Reginald would rip his heart out and stomp on it in his admittedly fashionable shoes. It gets Luther out on his own and forces him to become his own person apart from his dad, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. He got the positive character development he needed, but the catalyst was tragic.

Diego. We see, for the first time, exactly how Reginald kept him in line—not with meds or with PTSD-inducing torture, but with words. Even when he knows Diego as little more than a stranger, Reginald is able to rip off his skin and fling it in his face with a single diatribe; and even at 30, with years away from his dad, Diego is left unable to speak, feeling as if all of his accomplishments up to that point were the work of a dumb kid who thought he was smarter and more capable than he actually was.

Luther and Diego sharing a braincell. Luther has bad ideas. Diego has bad ideas. When they put their bad ideas together, they get terrible ideas. I loved watching them work together as a team, rather than being at each others’ throats for most of the season, even if I’m left hoping Olga Foroga had a pleasant and quiet day after that phone call.

Reginald. At first glance, it may look like the writers were trying to make him likable so they could parade him around as your average abusive-parent-with-a-soft-side. But it’s more nuanced than that. Abusive parents (and abusers in general) often fly under the radar because they fool outsiders into thinking they’re good people. They’re active in their communities. They give to charity. They have friends who attest to their virtue, significant others who think they’re the greatest. And that’s what we see with Reginald. We see him as the rest of the world did: an intelligent, eccentric man with a sharp sense of humor who cared deeply about scientific advancement. That’s how he evaded suspicion—because there were stories from years past of lively parties at his mansion, of what a gentleman he was to Grace and of how he did everything he could to save little Pogo. But those stories would all have come from people he considered his equals. When he’s with people he considers his inferiors—aka, the Umbrella kids—he’s openly condescending and demeaning. We get to see how he fooled the world, and it is chilling.

Elliot. He deserved better, and you can ship him with any one of the Hargreeves kids and get the cutest thing ever.

The Swedes. They said so much while speaking very little.

Ben. He got more personality and screen time, and it was glorious. His love of his family and resentment toward Klaus practically leapt off the screen. The way he says “I’ve missed you all…so much” once they’ve all left was one of those right-in-the-feels moments; and watching him get so much of what he’s wanted for years when he possesses Klaus was beautiful.

Now, as for things I took issue with….

Ben. I understand why they ended his arc the way they did. I get that they were probably afraid the Klaus/Ben dynamic would grow stale if they didn’t change it somehow and wanted to give him a larger role in S3. His death(???) was heartbreaking and extremely well-done. But it also wasn’t foreshadowed. We never got any sense of what ghosts in the TUA ‘verse are, so the fact they can be destroyed by a ton of sound-turned-energy or by going too far into someone’s psyche or whatever happened….it’s not that it doesn’t make sense so much as there’s not enough evidence to determine whether or not it makes sense. It feels like the writers just kinda made that up so they’d have a reason to change Ben’s relationship dynamics, but if that’s the case, couldn’t they have done it another way? Couldn’t they have made it so the immense energy or psychic woo-woo or whatever gave him a power-up instead of destroying him? Vanya transferred some of her energy into Harlan and brought him back to life. Couldn’t something similar have happened with Ben? And if it tied him to Vanya as well as to Klaus, great! More fodder for angst and humor! (”Vannyyyyyyyy, stop hogging Ben!” “You got him for 17 years, Klaus, you can part with him for 20 minutes.” “Guys, don’t I get a say in this?”) I’m glad they didn’t write him out of the series entirely, but I still wish they’d kept him and all the character development he’d gotten throughout S2.

Episode 10. It looks like they tried to cram half a season’s worth of developments into 45 minutes. Twenty minutes in, I’d already said “Wait what the fuck” half a dozen times. A lot of those moments were explained later on, and I was able to make enough inferences to fill in any lingering plot holes, but…still. Too much stuff, too little time. E9 was a perfectly satisfying ending to the season. Yes, it leaves the siblings stranded in 1963, but they could’ve tied up those loose ends in the S3 premiere.

Lila. She’s an incredibly fun character, but her arc is kind of a mess. Most of that is due to E10, and I do feel that more time to let her arc breathe would’ve worked wonders, but I’m left feeling like her turn from “Handler is the best mom ever and I lurve Diego too” to “KILL DIEGO AND HIS EVIL FAMILY” to “Handler is a bad mom and Diego is right” happened too quickly.

The Commission. Okay, so, the Handler announces the entire Board has been killed, and she’s stepping in as director even though everyone appears to know she’s been demoted (and demoted pretty severely—she went from having an office bigger than some apartments to being a case management drone). There’s suspicion and lots of it. But then, La Resistance is….ten or so people in a single room? And when she calls the temps agents to her side, thousands of them show up ready and willing to fight and die? I dunno. Just seems like there should’ve been more splintering going on there. Again, I think they needed more time to tie everything up.

Aside from those complaints, I loved the season. I set aside most of a day to binge it, and I do not regret that decision at all.

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quickspinner · 4 years ago

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Month of Miracles - Dressing Up Part 2

Find the prompt list here!

Marinette tapped her pencil on the small stack of sketches and sighed. She felt dissatisfied with them, but that was nothing new. She was dissatisfied with almost everything she made these days, so why should this be any different?

Her thoughts drifted back to Luka for the hundredth time. She was going to have to face him again. He was expecting her and she really did need to source some materials from the wardrobe he was offering.

She might be able to put it off a day, though, she mused. Maybe it would be better to give him some space, anyway. She had just rejected him, after all. That had to sting, no matter how chill he acted about it. Marinette would be doing him a favor, staying away for a day. She could go shopping and see what she could get in the way of basic materials first. That was a perfectly plausible excuse.

Coward, she thought sourly at herself, and sighed, dropping her head into her arms.

It would be easier if she didn’t like him so much. Marinette turned her head and looked at her phone where it lay on the table in its cheerful pink case. She could text him, but...would that be weird? People here didn’t seem to do that, they just...popped up. He’d told her just to show up whenever, but…

I don’t have his number, she realized suddenly. How funny was that? All the times they’d talked, and they’d never even traded numbers.

She wouldn’t even be able to text him when she went back to the city. The thought made her ache, but she pushed it aside. That was the kind of problem you could push off for later, she thought as she packed up her things. Not like making out with a guy you were probably never going to see again once the week was out. Which was a real, actual problem that should be avoided.

Right?

Marinette groaned, and grabbed Gina’s car keys, marching out of the door. She had a job to do, and surely she was still professional enough to manage that much.

She had herself mostly together by the time she pulled into the Couffaine farm. The yard wasn’t empty when she pulled in, to her mild surprise.

“Ahoy, Marinette!” Anarka called, waving at her, and Marinette, feeling she should be polite, got her kit out of the car and walked over to where Anarka was working. Ankara was unloading some small saplings from the back of a pickup truck that looked a lot like Luka’s, only about twenty years older. “For a moment there, I fergot it was you and not yer grandma pulling up,” Anarka chuckled as Marinette approached. “Here t’see Luka, I expect? He said ye were comin’ by.”

“Yes,” Marinette tried to smile, and hoped she didn’t blush too hard at Luka’s name. Yes, hi, I kissed your son this morning and broke his heart, so this isn’t awkward at all. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?

“He’s been working like a demon all day,” Anarka commented, lifting another tree down with a grunt. “He was drivin’ me crazy, bein’ so efficient, and I about bit his head off.” She glanced at Marinette, who tried hard not to look guilty. “Told him to make himself scarce for a bit. I think he went t’ take a shower, but he should be done by now.”

“Oh,” Marinette said lamely, trying very hard not to think of accidentally walking in on a freshly showered and not entirely dressed Luka. Maybe awkward small talk was for the best. “He, um. He said you were done for the year?”

“Aye, closed to the public fer the year,” Anarka smiled. “Though o’ course if there was anyone in town that needed anythin’ we’d open right back up. Nah, the public part of business is done for the year. Now it’s just all the work nobody sees.” She turned away from Marinette for a moment, walking over to the rail fence that separated the rows of trees. Marinette followed, unsure what else to do, her kit bumping against her knees as she carefully skirted the saplings.

“Never really thought I’d end up in a place like this,” Anarka said, leaning her elbows against the fence rails. “There’s a kinda poetry t’ it, though. Renewal. Rebirth. The old makin’ way for the young.” She winked at Marinette, and then went on. “I might not even be here by the time these trees are big enough t’ cut. Got a wandering foot, y’know, and it’ll take seven or eight years minimum for these to get the size where anyone would even consider cutting ‘em. Who’s to say I won’t be off to some new adventure by then? But they’ll still be here, growing, because I planted them. Endings, beginnings. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one apart from the other, aye?”

Marinette made a noise in reply automatically, but Anarka’s musings had put her thoughts on another track, and she barely heard the last bit.

Anarka eyed her sidelong for a moment, and then sighed and shoved herself off the fence, turning to smile at Marinette with her hand on her hips. “Out with it, lass, what’s on yer mind?”

Marinette blushed, snapping back to the present. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.”

“Maybe not,” Anarka shrugged. “Ye can still ask, though. If I don’t want to tell ye, I just won’t.”

Marinette shifted her weight and adjusted her grip on the handle of her kit, still uncomfortable, but...“Were you...disappointed?” she asked in a low voice. “When Luka gave up his career?”

Anarka laughed loud enough that it echoed back to them. “Nah, lass, I was proud . Luka was miserable, livin’ that life. It takes guts to admit that and come home, ‘specially when everyone around you is telling you how lucky ye are, having a talent and a chance like that. Like somehow you owe some cosmic debt and if ye don’t stick it out, yer wastin’ somethin’. Like success is a cookie cutter and ye have to slice away bits of yerself to make it fit.” She shook her head. “It’s not how I raised my kids. I taught them to take chances, and I taught them not to let fear make their decisions—and I also taught them that there’s no shame in what the world likes to call failure. There’s no shame in trying out the different shapes of success until you find one that fits, instead o’ tryin’ t’ force yerself into the one kind.”

Marinette blinked at her, surprised at the way her expression softened as she spoke.

Anarka was silent a moment and then sighed. “Still. You do your best to teach them, but you never know whether the lesson’s gonna stick. So when I think of the courage it took for Luka to walk away, to look so-called failure in the face and turn it into just another lesson learned, to find a way to believe that he’s still his father’s son even if he doesn’t follow in the old man’s footsteps—I’m so proud I could burst.” Marinette started slightly as Anarka suddenly stepped forward and put a surprisingly gentle hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Luka’s never needed to prove his talent to me, lass. He’s still finding his feet again, and that’s okay. When he’s ready, he’ll make success fit him instead of the other way around, I’ve no doubt of that.” She squeezed Marinette’s shoulder, and looked at Marinette for a long moment. Marinette swallowed nervously, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Ankara let her hand drop and jerked her head towards the house. “Go on now, we’ve both got things to be doing. Go straight on in, he’ll be expecting you.” She turned back to her young trees, and Marinette, clearly dismissed, turned towards the house, butterflies surging back to life in her stomach. She was being stupid, she told herself. Luka had accepted her rejection gracefully, and tried so hard to make her comfortable. Marinette was sure she’d hurt his feelings if she suddenly got awkward about being around him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Marinette sneaked a glance back towards Anarka, and then despite what she had been told, she knocked as loudly as she could. She lingered on the doorstep as long as she dared (which wasn’t very long, knowing that Anarka could see her not going on in), and let herself into the house. She could hear guitar music even before she got the creaky old door open, and once inside, she followed it to the great room. Luka was perched on the same fragile-looking chair as before, with an acoustic in his hands this time. He looked up as she entered, and smiled, laying his hand flat against the strings. His hair was damp, and his t-shirt sticking to him a little bit. He couldn’t have been out of the shower long and Marinette was kind of glad she’d stopped to talk to Anarka.

Luka stood up and put the guitar in a stand, and Marinette realized she hadn’t even said hi, but it seemed too late now. “I was starting to think Mom was going to talk your ear off before you made it up here,” Luka teased gently as he straightened.

“Oh, we were just, um—” Marinette winced. “Talking.” She was so lame, ugh.

“I saw through the window,” Luka grinned. “Figured you’d get here when you were ready. The stuff’s all in the attic, so…” He gestured towards the stairs, and then reached for her kit. “Can I get that for you?”

Too flustered to object politely, Marinette let him take it, and then followed him. She should say something, she thought, but she couldn’t think of anything.

She sighed mournfully as they climbed the stairs. Part of her ached for what he was offering—but she was pretty sure that same part wouldn’t want to let him go, and that was just...and really, she was such a disaster, and he was amazing, and he deserved so much better than someone who was so mixed up and wishy-washy. Why did they have to meet like this? Would it have been different if they met before?

Except before, she was with Adrien, too dazzled and in love to even see anyone else, and Luka had been a rock star, surrounded by all the glamorous women he could possibly want, and she had never really stood out, as Audrey loved to remind her. She just didn’t have Adrien’s celebrity magnetism, nor Audrey’s force of personality, so she was always overlooked. It was no wonder that nobody ever really saw her until she came here.

“Well, here we are,” Luka’s voice broke into her thoughts. He was reaching up to grab a hanging cord.

Marinette shook her head and slapped her cheeks as Luka pulled the attic ladder down and ascended it. None of this was actually solving the problem at hand. She needed to keep her mind on the costumes. Marinette had sketched out some ideas at home, thinking she could probably get some sheets to use as a base, and then maybe she could source some of the less expensive things from Luka’s old wardrobe for embellishments on the fancier things like the angels, or for the snaps and things. There was a single big box store in town, actually; the selection would be limited but surely she could find some things there too. This project was ridiculously easy, when it came down to it. She had a plan that would work, and it was all simple sewing, stuff she could do in her sleep. No sweat.

So why were her hands shaking?

She lifted her hands and watched them tremble before her eyes. She felt her breath getting short.

She started when a large hand closed over both of hers. “Marinette.” She looked up, and Luka was there, framed against the light coming down from the attic. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, a little too quickly, with a smile that was a little too wide. “Just, hoping there will be some stuff I can use.”

Luka smiled. “It’ll be fine. Come on up.” He shifted his hold to just one of her hands and drew her up the narrow stairs after him.

He let go of her hand once she was up, and Marinette looked around in mild surprise. The attic was cleaner than she expected. Cluttered, like the rest of the house, and full of things in piles and stacked, sometimes draped in sheets, but she didn’t encounter the dust she had expected, and the small, high windows were clean and let in plenty of light. She wondered if they were just carting things in and out of here so often that they kept it clean, or if they used the space for more than storage. There was a clear path to where they needed to be, and she followed Luka across the creaking floor.

Marinette waited nervously as he whisked the protective sheets off two racks of clothes. Marinette had to blink as the light hit the clothes; there were metal accents and rhinestones and metallic fabrics everywhere, and she was unprepared for the amount of light they threw back in her eyes.

“There it is,” Luka sighed, folding his arms as he sat on a trunk a short distance away. “Every bedazzled scrap of it.”

She had to giggle a little at that. Luke Stone had certainly favored ostentation, though that was almost unavoidable when you played with Jagged Stone.

Still, they didn’t have to, she thought, as she walked up and began mechanically sliding looks along the rack to have a look. They could have played up his simplicity. They could have made him stand out by contrast, rather than by imitation. She wondered if they were deliberately setting up an implied rivalry between father and son with their choices, or if they just hadn’t thought a rock star could be simple. Costume design wasn’t exactly the same thing as fashion design, but there was enough overlap that—

Marinette brought her thoughts back to the present, and swallowed as she stepped back again, suddenly overwhelmed. She turned away and opened her kit slowly, taking out the stack of drawings she’d left on top, suddenly profoundly dissatisfied with them. Rose and the kids expected her to work magic with this stuff, and all she had was a pile of generic toga-style costumes.

Simple. Uninspired. Pedestrian.

Her gut began to churn.

Marinette glanced at Luka nervously, and then jerked her gaze quickly away, but of course he caught it.

“I don’t have to be here if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “I can go back downstairs and you can just call me if you need help with anything.”

That was so far from her thoughts that it gave her pause. “You...don’t make me uncomfortable,” she said, and looked back at him with a sad smile. “You never have. You’ve been...really wonderful, Luka, now matter how weird things got. I am uncomfortable, but it’s not about you.” Taking a breath, Marinette stepped back to the rack and ran her fingers down the fabric in front of her in a practiced motion, taking in the composition and the drape almost without conscious thought.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luka asked quietly.

Marinette thought about that for a moment, and then turned back to the garments on the rack. “Not tonight.” She couldn’t afford to get worked up now, she had to figure something out. She...she had to do something, she couldn’t just…

“Okay.” Luka said simply, and Marinette swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. He was so understanding, but—what was she going to do? She couldn’t just drape the kids in sheets and call it a day, they deserved so much better than that. She had to figure something out, she had to—She put both hands in her hair and pulled it, trying to focus on the clothes in front of her, but her eyes stung. She squeezed them shut tight and held her breath, trying to keep it together.

Luka’s hands closed on her shoulders from behind, squeezing lightly, and Marinette turned to him in a rush, burying her face in his chest.

“Marinette, look at me,” he said, pushing her shoulders back gently and taking her face in his hands. “Just breathe, and look at me.”

Marinette stared up into his blue eyes, reflecting calm and assurance while all that fluttered in her chest was panic and self-doubt.

“Slow down,” he said emphatically. “It’s okay.”

“But I—” she began, and he shook his head.

“Marinette. There’s no failure here. Anything you put together will be better than moldy, moth-eaten rags. Without your help we’d all be frantically cutting armholes in pillowcases or something. No matter what you do, Rose will be ecstatic.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “These are the lowest possible stakes. You can’t screw up, so just have fun with it.”

Marinette turned her head out of his hands, looking at the designer, rock star wardrobe laid out for her to use. “But—”

Luka reached over and grabbed her fabric scissors out of her kit. He grabbed a shirt at random off the rack, and cut it in half in a ragged line. Marinette stared as he offered her the scissors back. “That’s how little I care about this stuff,” he grinned.

Marinette’s mouth closed abruptly and she glared at him, and would have snatched the scissors from them if they hadn’t been—well, scissors. Well-sharpened fabric scissors at that. Instead she took them with the appropriate amount of care even as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I might have needed that,” she told him, kicking his foot lightly.

“I have faith,” Luka grinned wider. “You’ll manage.”

She huffed and turned back to the garments, and looked at the second rack next to her. Luka backed away, leaning his elbows on an old dresser as he watched her.

Marinette studied the racks, and suddenly she pulled out her phone, swiping to the group photo she’d taken at the library today. She looked over the children there, at their dyed hair and punk haircuts and all-black outfits interspersed with riots of color, and began to smile a bit. “Okay,” she muttered, picking up a leather garment studded with rhinestones. “I guess this Christmas is about to get a little bit rock ‘n roll.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly.

Marinette barely noticed him, eyes lighting up as her mind began racing. She picked up the stack of designs she had done earlier and crumpled them absently in her hands. “I need my sketchbook,” she muttered.

“I’ll get it,” Luka said, shoving off the dresser and crossing the room. “Where?”

“I left it in my car. On the passenger seat, I think.”

Luka clattered down the stairs and out of the front door to grab Marinette’s sketchbook. Halfway back up the stairs he hesitated, and ducked into his room to grab his own notebook. Marinette practically snatched the book out of his hand, digging in her kit for her pencils, and Luka grinned, sitting back on the trunk again and resting his notebook on his knee.

He watched her, fascinated, as her focus narrowed to her task, and she began sketching, making notes and separating out items from the stacks of clothing he never thought he’d look at again. Luka began scribbling notes to himself as well, just...idle thoughts, the web of concepts and ideas that eventually came together to make a song, but he kept looking up to watch her, intrigued by her creative process. She muttered something to herself or tossed something aside with more vehemence than usual and he grinned.

Slowly, the attic transformed, suddenly strewn with gaudy clothes. Several distinct heaps were forming. Every once in a while Marinette would stop, and go back to her sketchbook, scratching in new details or ideas, or crossing something out with a sigh.

He jumped slightly, though, when she tossed the book aside with a little scream, and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s never going to hold up with that kind of weight, I’m so stupid —”

“Whoa,” Luka said, a little sharply than he’d meant to, putting his notebook aside and getting up quickly to go to her. “Hey, hey, hey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“I just—I should have accounted for this, and I didn’t, and now I have to change it—”

“Okay, so change it,” Luka said, putting his hands on her shoulders again to make her look at him. Marinette looked at him like he had two heads, and he almost laughed at her. “Marinette, you’re an artist, not a machine. It’s okay to backtrack and change your mind.” He smiled at her, hoping he looked reassuring and not enchanted. “I know every artist is different and music isn’t the same as fashion, but for me…” he shrugged. “Success comes from a series of small failures. You try something, and it mostly works, but something isn’t quite right, so you make a change and try again. That’s not something to be ashamed of or upset about. If you’re that frustrated, we could take a break. Or if you want to rework it some and come back tomorrow, that’s fine too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute, her mouth working soundlessly. She looked down at the sketchbook in her hands, and then back up at him.

“Do you want to take a break?” Luka asked her.

“I...no,” she said. “It’s...it’s not that big of a deal, I’m pretty sure I can fix it if I...um—”

“Okay,” he said simply, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. He really wanted to hug her, to hold her tight and tell her how amazing he found her, how entranced he was watching her work, how alive she looked when she was creating, but—he couldn’t, so he squeezed her shoulders and then let his hands fall. “No need to explain it, I trust you.” He glanced down at the book, and then looked away. “Sorry, I’m not trying to peek, but that—that looks really badass.” He couldn’t help looking again, and, blushing, Marinette turned the book so he could see. His smile grew as he looked at it. “That’s amazing, Marinette, what are you worrying about? If it looks half this cool in real life we’re going to have to have someone standing by to give Rose oxygen.”

Marinette giggled, and looked back down at it herself. “You really think so?” she murmured, with a small smile that made his heart skip. Just when he thought she couldn’t get any sweeter.

“I definitely think so,” Luka told her, backing away. He sat down on the floor this time, leaning back against the trunk. He groped behind him blindly for his notebook and nearly knocked it off the far side of the trunk.

Marinette gave a pleased hum, and then took a deep breath before her brows furrowed into her concentration face. Luka drew his knees up and leaned one elbow on them, smiling like the fool he was.

There were a few more frustrated groans, but no more spirals, and Luka kept quietly in his place even as piles of fabric grew around him. Finally she sat back and sighed. “I think that’s everything I’m going to need.”

“Cool.” Luka looked up from his notebook and smiled.

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Marinette gasped, looking around as if she had only just now realized the chaos she had created. “I can help you clean it up—”

Luka cut her off with a laugh. “You’re welcome to,” he chuckled, “but there’s really no need. Clutter is a way of life around here. Trust me, the only reason they were so organized to begin with is because they were delivered that way.” His eyes fell to her sketchbook. “Can I see what you have in mind?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any more.

Marinette tensed up immediately, biting her lip. She looked at the book and then at Luka, and then she offered it to him.

Luka took it, though his eyes stayed on her, concerned and a little baffled by her hesitation when the one sketch he’d seen had been so cool. Marinette turned back to the pile of garments she had chosen, though, and so he let his eyes fall and began looking through the few pages of sketches she had made, careful not to go beyond even though he was aching to see more. A slow smile grew on his face as he looked, and he shook his head slightly. “The angels are still my favorite, but these are amazing, Marinette. You might want to get some earplugs because Rose is going to shatter glass when she sees these.” He grinned up at her. “I knew you could do it.”

She smiled faintly, but looked away. “They’re just pictures, though. I still have to actually execute the designs.”

“Hey,” Luka said, reaching a hand up towards her. Marinette blinked in surprise, but she slowly stepped forward and put her hand in his. He tugged gently, and she sank to her knees in front of him. “ Yeah, you might have to make some changes when you go to actually put it together, but that’s part of the process for everybody. Sometimes a song I thought was finished doesn’t work out right the first time I play it with the band, and I have to make some changes.” He hesitated, and then went on. “I don’t know what’s going on in there,” he poked her forehead gently. “And I’m not exactly up on fashion, but—” he gestured at the racks of clothes. “I have some experience too, and I gotta say…” he shook his head, and turned the sketchbook towards her. “You outclass anybody else I’ve worked with by far.”

Marinette blushed deeply. “They’re just costumes,” she murmured, tucking her hair back as she looked away.

“They could have been, but they’re not.” Luka offered her the book back. “Marinette.” He waited until she looked at him. “Do you like them?”

Marinette looked back at the drawings, and bit her lip. Her face was growing red again. “Yes,” she finally admitted quietly.

Luka put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face back up. “Stop thinking so hard,” he said gently. “I know it’s easy to lose faith in yourself, but...you’re creating something, you have to find a way to tune all of that stuff out and just be in that moment. You can deal with the aftermath afterwards.” He grinned. “That’s what editing is for, right? Or so I’m told. I was never any good at it.”

Marinette smiled. “That’s why your music was so good. It was...raw, instinctive. Still polished, but deeply emotional. It’s why I always loved it.”

It was Luka’s turn to flame up red, and Marinette giggled.

“That wasn’t fair,” he huffed, pulling his knees up to hide his face in his arms for a moment.

Marinette laughed harder. “How many thousands of records sold and you blush at a little old compliment from a fan?” she teased.

Luka turned his face on his arms so that he was looking at her. “You’re not just any fan,” he said, and smiled at the pink returning to her cheeks. He sighed, raising his head, and letting his legs fall and cross beneath him again. “Don’t ever let anyone let you feel like you’re not special, Marinette.”

“It’s definitely not a problem when I’m with you,” she said, and then bit her lip, like it had slipped out without her intending it to.

“Good,” he grinned, and then decided he’d better move before he did something stupid. “So, show me what you need me to take down to the car for you, and we’ll just leave the rest of it like this until you’re done in case you need to come back for something.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly and she scrambled to her feet. “Right.”

She told him which piles of clothes she wanted to take, and Luka got some bags and gathered them up. Marinette made a token effort at tidying up, despite Luka having told her to leave it. She hung a few things back on the rack, and paused suddenly, hand hovering over a jacket still on the rack.

Marinette picked it up slowly, looking at it. The scent of leather and something like electronics hit her nose, and her eyes widened slightly. She felt around the bottom hem and found something hard and rectangular there. Another minute of searching, and the jacket lit up in her hands, the fiber optic lights sewn into the seam pulsing faintly.

Marinette laughed a little, and crossed over to the trunk Luka had been using as a chair all afternoon. She sat down and spread the jacket across her lap. She remembered this. He’d been wearing it at the show she’d gone to. They’d started with all the lights off and just Luka on stage, wearing this jacket and the pants that went with it, making him just an electric outline on the stage when the curtain went up.

Hard to reconcile that image with the guy from the tree farm, she thought affectionately. But then, he’d always had a reputation for being a sweetheart, good to his fans and generous with his time, so...maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe.

At least this contraption is well made, she thought, running a finger along one of the light tubes. It was still secure after all this time, and clearly in working order.

The lights began to flash and jump around, and Marinette giggled. It had started that right before Luke had swept his hand up and down in a dramatic power chord that had rattled her teeth. Once again it was hard to reconcile them in her mind. It was almost funny, now that she knew Luka, remembering those dramatics.

The light reflected back off something in the corner of her eye, and when she looked, she saw it was the metal coil of Luka’s notebook, half buried under a pile of clothes he had shoved out of the way. She picked the notebook up and smiled a little bit as she did so; the page was a mess, full of scratched out lines, and the writing went every which way in a complicated web. Was this how his mind worked? It was so different from her own process—

Jewels Diamonds in the sands of time Those are my memories with you And even if it’s only a precious few They’re the ones I’ll keep when everything else flows away

It made Marinette think of her first fashion show, when she’d been new and excited about the garments she was putting out there, excited and happy. That moment shone jewel-bright in her memory, despite all the drudgery that had followed it. That was she was working for, after all, another chance at that feeling. All of this frustration would be worth it if she could have another moment like that.

Marinette blinked back to reality and suddenly realized what she was doing. She slammed her eyes shut and turned the notebook over in her lap. Oh, she shouldn’t have looked at that, she thought frantically, her heart suddenly beating triple time. This—this was private, just like her designs were, and she shouldn’t have—but she hadn’t meant to—

Luka’s heavy boots thunked on the stairs and Marinette jumped, dropping the notebook so that it landed on the floor splayed open with an inelegant smack . Marinette scrambled up and hurriedly grabbed it again. She hastily smoothed it out as Luka came the rest of the way up into the attic. “Oh, I think this one is yours,” she said, holding it out to him.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Luka said, curling it in half and sticking it in his back pocket. Marinette tried not to wince. “Anything else?” His eyes landed on the jacket in her hands. “Oh, I see you found the switch,” he chuckled.

“Will you put it on?” Marinette blurted, and Luka raised his eyebrows at her. “Please?” she smiled, hunching her shoulders slightly as she held it up.

Eyebrows still raised, Luka took it, and slipped it on. He grimaced slightly as he zipped it up. “Definitely doesn’t fit as comfortably as it used to,” he commented, tugging down on the hem. “Not too bad, though.”

“You probably build muscles in different places, hauling trees,” Marinette said absently, stepping forward to adjust the way it sat across his shoulders for a moment. “Not as uniform a workout as using a personal trainer. It gives you a more natural build.” She smiled a little as she smoothed the arms and stepped back.

“It still looks good on you,” she observed. “You were wearing this at the concert I went to. The first time I saw you live.”

Luka smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t exactly have the same effect in my attic, does it?”

“No,” Marinette smiled back. “It was a wonderful performance, though, and I guess I wasn’t expecting to be reminded of it just now.” She bit her lip and asked in a rush, “Were you...were you writing a song? Just now?” She gestured vaguely toward his pocket.

Luka looked a little taken aback, but not offended. “I was starting to,” he admitted. “I...really enjoy the time we spend together, and it was really nice, seeing a new side of you today. I guess I felt a little inspired, yeah.”

Marinette’s breath caught. “It was...about me?”

“About you and me, yeah,” he admitted. “Does that bother you?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “No!” How could he think she’d be offended by such a thing? It was...it was amazing, that she’d inspired anything in him, when she was so—and—how she had felt, in that first fashion show, was he...was he saying he felt that way with her ? She shied away from the idea even as she thought it, it was so...so much, and she was so—she was—

Oh no. Luka was looking at her intently, a slight crease in his forehead. She tried to think of something to say, but her internal meltdown was too complete, and she just stared at him.

“You’re extraordinary, Marinette,” Luka said softly, and his expression was completely serious and not at all flirtatious. “Getting to see you work today was a privilege. I’m better for meeting you, even if my heart breaks when you’re gone. It’s...it’s a long way from being a song, but I meant it.”

“But I’m…”

Luka shook his head slightly, a smile softening his expression. “You’re what, Marinette? Tell me everything, I want to hear all of it.”

Marinette gaped. “You—you—how do you do that?” she cried, throwing her hands up. “You’re sweet and kind and you have an amazing talent but you’re so laid back and grounded and—”

“And you are all of those things too,” Luka laughed. “Except maybe the laid back part.” He grinned, and Marinette made a face at him. “You kinda maybe worry too—”

Marinette had taken two large steps toward him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled. Luka staggered, grabbing on to her shoulders as she dragged him down and kissed him.

He made a very undignified noise even as his arms were coming down to wrap around her. Marinette couldn’t hold the kiss very long; she hadn’t taken a good breath and her nose was smashed against his cheek, so she was forced to break it before Luka really even had a chance to respond.

Luka sucked in a breath, blinking at her. “Are you sure?” he blurted, and then looked like he wanted to kick himself. Marinette had to giggle, giddy with elation and adrenaline, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest.

“No,” she told him when she was able, and a little shiver of fear went up her spine before she stomped it down again. “But I’ve never met anybody like you and...anyway, you’re right. It’s stupid to be tearing myself up over it when I could just be kissing you instead.”

“Very logical,” he laughed, and Marinette kicked his shin lightly.

“Take off this ridiculous jacket,” she told him, tugging. “I can’t take you seriously in this thing.”

“I don’t know, I’m suddenly a lot fonder of it than I was a moment ago,” Luka grinned, putting his hands over hers on the lapels. His tone was teasing, but his thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, and there was a light in his eyes that had her heart galloping all over again.

She slipped her hands away, and Luka fumbled at the hem until he found the switch, turned the lights off, and shrugged the jacket off, dropping it carelessly on the trunk beside them before reaching for her again.

They were still wrapped up in each other when Rose popped her head in the attic looking for them, and rattled the windows with her scream.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #hallmark au #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #promptfic

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liamhaydn-blog · 3 years ago

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Joshua & Fury: reading of the resumes.

You can’t read any discussion about Anthony Joshua for long without seeing reference to his resume. The resume is usually brought up as the first line of defence to any criticism slung his way, and is perhaps the only line of attack that is still being used by AJ fans as to why their man still deserves more credit and praise than Tyson Fury.

The resume line is used by noone more than Eddie Hearn, who mentions it before every fight, after every fight, win or lose. The names by now reel off his tongue, and near everyone from what I have seen is in complete agreement that AJ has put together one hell of a record.

This has always somewhat baffled me, and I will explore why here. First of all since April 2016, every fight he’s had has been a World title fight. His last 8 fights have been for 3 organisation’s belts. When you are the champion of those 3 organisations, you will have to fight decent fighters, to justify you holding onto so many belts. Also these organisations want you to face their mandatory challenger now and then, the chances are someone ranked #1 will be a pretty good fighter. Does a unified World Heavyweight champion really deserve so much credit for fighting fairly solid opponents?

Comparison is often made to Wilder’s defences for example, and for sure it does seem that Wilder is a bit of a flat track bully, who didn’t seem to particularly mind some easy knockouts over less than stellar opposition. Though it still remains hard to fairly compare his level of opponents to Joshua’s. Joshua gets bigger crowds than anyone in world boxing, he’s for years now sold out big stadiums in a matter of hours, he’s simply one of the biggest stars in boxing with huge PPV numbers. This to say, they can afford to pay opponents big money. The big money that is required for a credible opponent. I don’t think that has always been the case for Wilder, who himself was not getting anything like big money until having been World Champion for a while, let alone his opponent.

This is not to completely excuse Wilder, the fact an agreement was never reached to fight Dillian Whyte in all the time he was mandatory challenger, its quite bizarre to me why Wilder seemingly did not ever fancy that fight. And I do think that unlike Wilder, AJ has and always will be willing to face anyone, be it Wilder, Fury, I don’t think him a coward or someone who would doubt himself enough to not fancy them fights.

The reason for the AJ-Wilder fight never materialising whilst both were champion, I don’t believe was down to AJ himself, though I believe its possible his team and promoter wanted to keep him away from Wilder for a little longer, to further build up his experience. But for Wilder’s part, I never got the impression he was particularly falling over himself to get the fight either.

I digress, but the point is that though I believe AJ has been more up for a challenge and a real fight than Wilder has, it’s not quite as simple as just looking at who their opponents have been for defences and not including the context.

The most common comparison presumably in the whole of boxing is AJ’s resume against Tyson Fury’s. As stated earlier, this is often something used by AJ fans, and Fury’s resume is the one main critique levelled against him by virtually everyone who wishes to put him down.

Again, it often seems a little without context. A man who has defended or attempted to defend his world title 9 times is always likely to have fought more decent fighters than someone who has never defended before, that seems obvious. Fury is mocked for never having attempted a World title defence, (aside from the fact its not really his fault from a boxing standpoint that he was unable to defend his belt for 2 years due to being side-lined from the ring for medical issues, nor was it his fault he was robbed by judges in Los Angeles in his first fight with Wilder, therefore delaying his ability to make a first defence) and yet also mocked for a supposedly weak resume, when the two things kind of go together as one rather explains the other. Your resume is unlikely to be great without a world title defence.

Looking at Fury’s resume, his best opponent prior to fighting for the World title was Chisora. Now the fact is, this was already not a great time for Heavyweight boxing, swathes of very average Heavyweights were getting the chance to lose to the Klitschko’s, so it shouldn’t be too surprising Fury didn’t have to fight off many stern challenges to become the top contender. One challenge could have been former Cruiserweight and Heavyweight World Champion David Haye, again not really Fury’s fault Haye pulled out of the fight twice. One man he did face though was Chisora, who in their first fight was 14-0 and 27 years old. The 22-year old Fury went into the fight as the underdog. They fought again 3 years later, inbetween these bouts Chisora became one of only 4 men to lose to Vitali Klitschko without being stopped.

Chisora is regarded as a journeyman for the 11 losses on his record, but the fact is nobody has ever had an easy night with him, barring Fury in their rematch. Chisora arguably won a very close first fight with Whyte, and was having another very close fight with him in the rematch before Whyte found a great knockout in the 11th, Usyk did not shine against him in the same way he did against Bellew and Joshua, and he was very unlucky to not win a decision against former World Champion Joseph Parker. Not bad for a journeyman. But Fury certainly made him look like a journeyman in their second fight, showing exactly how a big man should fight against a little man, he didn’t let Chisora lay a glove on him and beat him up all night until Chisora’s trainer finally took mercy on him and pulled him out after 10 brutally one-sided rounds.

The next ‘name’ on Tyson’s resume is Wladimir Klitschko, who was on a run of 19 successful wins in World title fights, and hadn’t lost for 11 years. On the Champions adopted home patch of Germany, Fury won a unanimous decision infront of 50,000 Klitschko supporters, to give the Ukrainian his only defeat by decision in 69 fights. Not a bad win I suppose.

Often used to mock Fury’s resume is the name ‘Sefer Seferi’ and yes the fight was a joke and a bit of a waste of time, but it was Fury’s first fight for 2 and a half years, yes he could have fought someone a bit better ofcourse, but I don’t think it would have been wise to fight anyone fans would consider a decent fighter on his very first step on the comeback trail. 2 months later was Pianeta, again I don’t think it’s that surprising that when you’re fighting for the second time in 3 months after a long absence, and your plan is to fight for the World title less than 4 months later, that the level of opponent you’re facing is not that high, that seems to be fairly logical. I think facing Deontay Wilder for the WBC title just 6 months into the comeback made up for it in fairness.

Going into their first fight, Wilder had faced 40 men and knocked them all out. It’s fashionable now after the beating Fury gave him in the rematch to dismiss Wilder as a bum, a never-was. But it’s simply not true. He’s 6 foot 7, incredibly heavy-handed with one of the most concussive punches in Heavyweight history. Fury fought him in his prime after the best win of Wilder’s career, an 8 round stoppage of Luis Ortiz, who at the time was for sure a worthy contender. Fury himself was 6 months back after a 2 and a half year absence, mostly spent trying to damage his body to the same extent his mind was damaged. After outboxing him for 9 rounds, Fury picked himself off the canvas to box his head off some more, until in the 12th round Wilder landed one of the hardest and best 2-punch combos he’s ever thrown. One of the only true knockout punches ever landed to somehow not result in a knockout. Fury won the fight but as we know was robbed and given a draw.

Between this fight and the rematch, Fury is again mocked for the two names he fought inbetween. Tom Schwarz and Otto Wallin. First of all it was kinda strange why these 2 fights were even necessary and they didn’t just do an immediate rematch, or even 1 fight inbetween, 2 seemed excessive. But financially it worked out great for both men, Wilder who was able to cash in for 2 more fights as Champion, and for Fury he could get into a run of real activity which helped him immensely for the rematch with Wilder. Schwarz was rolled over as expected, but Wallin inflicted 2 huge cuts on Tyson which left him fighting nearly the whole fight with only 1 eye, still winning nearly every round. Which is surely quite impressive, given Wallin is now deemed by Hearn a highly credible opponent for Whyte, one of the division’s top fighters.

In the Wilder rematch, Fury produced what was I think the best performance by a Heavyweight this century. He did what noone thought he could do, which was bully the bully, beating him with power not just cunning. As I said, now Fury has done it so easily, people will talk about how Wilder was rubbish all along, never beat anyone etc. but if anyone thinks AJ or Whyte or anyone else would just as easily stand up to Wilder’s power, speed and explosiveness, I think they are very mistaken. Whether Wilder will be the same fighter with his air of invincibility shattered after defeat remains to be seen, but it would be great to see him in the ring against Britain’s other top fighters. My prediction is, it would see Fury’s win and performance elevated even further.

Fury now faces Wilder for a third time, and whilst I like most consider it a shame Fury wasn’t able to move onto new challenges, if he wins, it’s another excellent win. I don’t consider it any easier than a fight against AJ would be. It’s true that AJ is a better boxer than Wilder, but still vastly inferior to Tyson, so I don’t see how he provides much greater threat from a boxing standpoint, he’s not going to outbox Fury in a million years. So the only threat to Tyson posed is power, Wilder has a higher KO % than AJ despite fighting nearly 20 more times, lets his hands go more, hits harder, is more dangerous with a single shot than AJ, so therefore I feel the most dangerous fighter to Fury, as he himself has said many times, remains *to this day* Deontay Wilder.

Now to really the point of the article, Joshua’s resume. After amassing 14 knockouts in 14 fights, all coming in the 3rd round or sooner, the Olympic Gold Medallist had become Britain’s most talked about and hyped prospect ever. His 15th opponent was Dillian Whyte, a 16-0 fighter with 13KO’s. Whyte has since gone on to garner a deserved reputation as one of the division’s toughest and respectable fighters, but that’s now. Going into when AJ actually fought him, he had faced absolutely nobody. He had 6 amateur bouts including a win over AJ, moved to kickboxing, came back to boxing and had 9 pro fights before being banned for drugs. Whyte was out the ring for 2 years, had 5 fights back then fought Joshua.

So at the time of the fight there is no doubt that whilst AJ was seen as a future World Champion, Whyte was not seen as anything of the sort, just an ‘opponent’ there for AJ to get another fast and emphatic knockout. The emphatic knockout came but not before experiencing adversity for the first time, as in fight number 15 of his career AJ faced someone who could take his leather and land some of his own, before succumbing in the 7th. Despite the rawness of Whyte, he still had enough heart and talent to provide Anthony with his first career test.

Next fight, AJ fought for the World title, facing what most regard as a terrible World Champion, Charles Martin. He may have walked this earth like a God, but he fought in the ring like a Big Bum Dosser, against AJ anyway, who took him apart in 2 rounds. Martin appeared for all the world like a man woefully out of his depth, dutifully accepting his beating for a good payday. A win over Gerald Washington has since seen an attempt at the rehabilitation of Martin’s image from Eddie Hearn no less, who now lists the conquest of this man as proof of AJ’s greatness, who next Gary Cornish?

AJ made his first World title defence of his IBF crown against Dominic Breazeale, who was at the time ranked #13 with the organisation. Joshua won in the 7th round. His second defence was against Eric Molina, who AJ dispached in 3 rounds. Another 2 men recently listed by Hearn to demonstrate AJ’s strong resume. In the same interview, he criticised Wilder for having beat noone..except he’s also knocked out both Breazeale (in 43 seconds) & Molina. A decision win over Breazeale was also enough to show Hearn that Wallin was a worthy PPV opponent for Whyte, so are they good wins or not? I’m not sure, I guess it depends on who we’re talking about, AJ or Wilder.

Next up saw AJ transition into a UK stadium fighter when he met Wladimir Klitschko at Wembley Stadium to attempt to add more belts to his collection that had recently been vacated by Fury. Having been soundly beaten by The Gypsy King, Klitschko had gone from 39 to 41. The feeling for a lot in the UK at the time was, it’s a good time to beat a good name to earn some credibility against an old, past it champion. That looked to be the case when AJ dropped Wlad in the 5th but there was still some life in the old dog yet when the very next round AJ hit the canvas for the first time in his career. Wlad took control of the fight with AJ struggling for a second wind having used up a lot of energy, with stamina issues affecting the 250-pounder. There was a few rounds where AJ was too tired, not throwing, concentrating everything on trying to recuperate, that you’d think Klitschko could have stepped it up and gone for the finish. Whether age stopped Klitschko from pushing on the gas or he felt confident he could see out a decision, he didn’t do it and AJ found the best punch and single moment of his career in the 11th with a huge uppercut which signalled the end of Wlad’s chances. It was a great fight which AJ did very well to win, but it had been by the skin of his teeth.

After Pulev pulled out of their proposed fight, Carlos Takam stepped in as a late replacement. Given the lack of time, this wasn’t a terrible replacement, he is tough and comes to fight, ensuring the fans will atleast get to see a few rounds. But he has lost to every name fighter he’s faced, including Journeyman Chisora. So Chisora isn’t a good name on Fury’s record, because he loses to every good fighter he faces, but Takam is a solid name on AJ’s record, despite the fact he was knocked out by Chisora. It’s all very confusing.

To hold 4 belts, AJ then faced Joseph Parker, the holder of the WBO title, winning the vacant belt with a home decision against some chubby kid, Andy Ruiz. At the time, Parker had a very good reputation, but the fight was a stinker, with AJ disappointing his legion of fans as he was taken the distance for the first time. Parker has since lost to Whyte and in my opinion deserved a draw at best with Chisora having been dropped in the first round, and now will have to fight a rematch for a more emphatic win. Since the AJ fight, he’s looked a fairly average heavyweight, seemingly quite lucky to have ever held the World title, having not done anything since to make anyone believe he could ever hold it again.

The next defence came against the small and light for a heavyweight 39-year old Alex Povetkin. Looking at him, not much of a threat would perhaps be expected to a man of AJ’s size and stature but for 6 rounds he gave Joshua a very competitive fight until the fight was ended by the Champion’s power in the 7th. Povetkin had gone the distance with Wladimir Klitschko despite being dropped four times, and probably deserved a second shot at the world title sooner than 5 years after that. The 39-year old was still a credible challenger but with his best years behind him.

Then on June 1 2019, came the infamous AJ US debut. After a fight with Big Baby Miller collapsed due to his drug use, in stepped Andy Ruiz, who had a similarly large belly but 4 inches less in height than Miller. It was obvious what would happen next, AJ would announce himself to US audiences with a quick knockout. Ruiz hit the canvas for the first time in his career in round 3. AJ, one of the best finishers in the sport, jumped on him. What happens next usually, is roared on by tens of thousands of Brits, AJ punches and punches until his opponent goes down and stays there. This time infront of an audience of stunned Americans, Ruiz comes off the floor to land a shot to AJ’s temple which changes the course of the fight and both men’s destinies. Ruiz puts AJ down and the champion never recovers, unable to regain authority or control in the fight, he is victim to Ruiz’s barrages and decides not to fight on in the 7th, recognising after being dropped yet again, that it’s not going to be his night.

After losing the Brawl In Montreal, Sugar Ray Leonard knew he had to get his conqueror Roberto Duran back in the ring as quickly as possible, whilst he was out partying, piling on the pounds and not training. AJ applied the same thinking, and like Leonard in the ‘No Mas’ fight took on a completely new approach for the rematch. Andy Ruiz has very fast hands, its not wise to trade with him up close. He does not however, have fast feet or particularly long arms. AJ maintained his discipline in the rematch to comfortably outbox Ruiz for 12 rounds, boxing from distance, never tempted to go for the knockout. Ruiz weighed in at an enormous 284 pounds, 16 pounds heavier than before.

Performance and result wise, the Ruiz rematch in Saudi Arabia is perhaps the most impressive of AJ’s career to date. The 32-year old Ruiz still has to prove however, if he is truly a top class fighter, or whether he just produced the performance of a lifetime and got AJ on the right night. If AJ had beaten Ruiz first time round it would not have been seen as a particularly significant triumph, but due to the credibility he only gained as a result of beating AJ, this conversely amplified the achievement of Joshua gaining revenge in the rematch.

Joshua’s first defence of his second reign came against Kubrat Pulev after just over a year out the ring. Like Povetkin, Pulev was approaching 40, had fought for the world title whilst a younger man and lost to Wlad Klitschko (Pulev being stopped in 5), he was also quite a short and light man in comparison to the giant figure of Joshua. With only 14KO wins in 29 fights, Pulev looked the ideal opponent for AJ. He was durable and well conditioned, and came to win but he stood right infront of AJ, with no head movement, so AJ moved his head for him with brutal uppercuts. If you stand infront of Joshua and don’t have much of a punch or speed to threaten him with, he looks brilliant and he did at times on this night, despite even against this opponent being reluctant to fully commit to power combo’s, the memory of Ruiz at MSG clearly not yet banished, but the win came in the 9th round, AJ’s first stoppage win for over 2 years.

AJ’s second reign as champion was alot shorter than his first, defeat coming in his second defence against former Cruiserweight king Oleksandr Usyk. Usyk had come under vast criticism it shouldn’t be forgotten for his first 2 performances at Heavyweight. Many people, though I personally don’t agree, thought that his fight with Chisora was very close, he certainly wasn’t sending fear into the hearts of the division. But Usyk has only failed to win 15 fights out of over 360 amateur and pro for a reason, and he thoroughly outclassed Joshua. The fight would have been hard enough, and not a guaranteed win even if Joshua hadn’t got his tactics so completely wrong, but he atleast would have been in with a chance. Usyk, thought to be too small for a heavyweight, didn’t look small in with one of the divisions giants, because he didn’t fight like a small man, he didn’t allow Joshua to feel physically superior, and showed no fear or respect for his power.

I won’t be suprised atall if Joshua rights his wrongs in the second fight, by doing what he obviously should have done in the first fight. Being rough and nasty, throwing as the saying goes, with bad intentions. But why it takes a 2-time World Champion with his experience a second fight to realise this I have no idea. Having a “chess match” fight with Usyk is maybe something you do in sparring to learn some useful things, you don’t do it infront of 70 thousand with your belts actually on the line..It was one of the most incredibly naive things I have seen from an experienced champion. It struck of a man in a bit of an identity crisis, who can’t decide what type of fighter he is inside the ring, nor what his boxing persona is outside it, in the lead-up to fights.

As another mistake AJ seemed to repeat from the first Ruiz fight was he seemed all pally with Usyk and too relaxed in the build-up. It could just be a coincedence but he was nice and pissed off with Pulev before getting in the ring with him, and he produced the right performance. I know Usyk is a difficult guy to dislike, but he’s gonna have to try.

Strangely, Hearn also listed Usyk on AJ’s resume. I don’t see much good of having good names on your resume if you lose to them, otherwise we may aswell declare Kevin Johnson a great, as he’s fought everyone (and lost to everyone, but I guess that doesn’t matter). If AJ wins the rematch, he deserves credit for it, as it would for me be the best win of his career, given the age of Klitschko and Joshua’s personal circumstances of 2 defeats in his last 4. But I don’t really get this thing of “give AJ credit for taking the fight”. Its the mandatory challenger for one of his belts, he has to fight him, or else give up that belt. Why would you become world champion just to give a belt up because you have to face someone good? talk about giving credit for the bare minimum.

This questioning of AJ’s resume, is not to criticise him personally. I have no doubt before he retires he would if up to him fight Wilder, Fury, whoever else who is up there at the time, and if he does so he will lose plenty more times, because his chin and tactics are not of the standard of some of the other guys, but he will lose and come back and keep trying, and I respect that. But in conclusion I think up to this point, with no Fury or Wilder under his W column, he is getting a lot of credit for wins against guys who when listed as a collective are fairly solid names, but when taken individually, are not so great. Whilst Fury’s list has less solid names, there are names who can be taken individually and are great standalone wins.

The way I would describe it is would you rather take a couple of 10′s to bed, but not many 6,7 or 8′s? or would you rather take a few 6,7 or 8′s but never a 10. I know which I would prefer.

#boxing #aj #anthonyjoshua #tysonfury #gypsyking #usyk #oleksandr usyk #deontaywilder #wilder #bronzebomber #sport

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neoheros · 5 years ago

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how would haikyuu boys handle the quarantine? feat. pretty setter squad

sugawara koushi

respects the quarantine a lot

it’d be very hard to get him out of the house especially when it involves other people

has stocked up on literally every kind of canned food

“we don’t need to go to target, we’ve got a house full of food !!”

gets up at about 9 - 10 am

but he likes to sleep early

if you don’t sleep early, he doesn’t mind staying up with you if you ask him to but don’t expect much of him since he’s most likely out like a light after 11

he makes sure you wash your hands every other hour

it’s kinda repetitive but he cares yknow

eventually you’ll get so bored of staring at the same things that you promp him to go out with you

he’ll say no the first five times

and you’re just like 🥺

he’ll eventually agree but on the condition of bringing alcohol wipes and surgical masks

“NO DAICHI WE AREN’T ACCEPTING COMPANY !! ITS THE LAW !!”

kageyama tobio

he’s a baby

take care of him please

tbh if the two of you aren’t living together, you most likely have to be the one to help him stock on food and necessities

but if you do share a house/apartment then he’d go grocery shopping with you every now and then to make sure you don’t run out of stuff

i’m talking you in the shopping cart and him complaining about it being heavy but not letting you get off

once you get back in the car though he makes sure to put sanitizer on both your hands and the moment you get home, he reminds you to wash them

his sleeping habits are kinda out there

most of the time he sleeps early, but there are times when you see him on the couch under a weighted blanket scrolling through tiktok at 3 am

no matter what time he sleeps though, he always get up at either 9 am or 2 pm

no in between

if he wakes up at 2 pm then that’s because he doesn’t want to let go of his grasp on you

is the big spoon all the time

and no you’re not gonna get to squirm out of his embrace, i’m sorry

kenma kozume

i’m just gonna be blunt here

this kid is grateful for the quarantine

of course he’s distasteful for the pandemic and stuff but c’mon he’s a teenage boy with a full ass gaming system and you think this isn’t a life he’s dreamt of?

like kags, you’d most likely have to be the one to make sure he’s stocked up on food and stuff

whenever you both would go grocery shopping together he’d always go for the junk food like sodas and lays chips

knowing this fully well, you get the things needed to actually make a proper meal

y’all know damn well this boy goes to sleep at 6 am and wakes up at 2 pm

it’s how his body clock has adapted and there’ll be times he’ll try to sleep with you at 11 pm but he’s just staring at the ceiling and moving and flinching and at this point even you can’t fall asleep with all the ruckus he’s causing

“K E NM A LEAVE THE BED”

“no, i’m trying to be productive by sleeping early and then i’ll wake up early then we can have a good day together.”

“baby i’m sorry but neither of us will be able to sleep at all if you DON’T GODDAMN LEAVE”

when he’s not gaming or having kuroo yell at him for barely participating in his online classes, he likes to have you in his embrace

most of the time if you’re not up doing daily things, the two of you are in bed just hugging

or you’re in the living room scrolling through tiktok and he’s in the bedroom also scrolling through tiktok

and when you both find a funny video you call to each other and then show it and go back to doing your thing

goals ngl

oikawa tooru

if i were to be stuck in the house for a month with this man i would cry

he’s a morning person for fucks sake

he gets up at 8 am and goes to bed before 11 pm and yes he will drag your ass in and out of bed so you guys can start and end the day together

it’s so sweet i’m not gonna lie but holy fuck my dude

he goes on morning walks and runs and sometimes he’ll ask you to come with him and tells you you’re missing out if you say no

but most of the time he’ll let you sleep in when he’s gone and you wake up to either your favorite starbucks drink or a protein shake he made you

oikawa tooru = healthy quarantine lifestyle

the two of you have cabinets and pantries full of food, both healthy and absolute junk

he tries his best to steer away from that stuff though but sometimes he doesn’t mind eating through them when you two are on the couch and binging old nickelodeon shows

with his bad knee, you also take into consideration how important it is to be exercising and keeping his regimen up

so even if you cry blood from running with him too much, you never mind coming with him since it’s for him to get better

he’s like one of those white moms who’s always out for a walk and always cleaning the house

whenever the two of you would go out for a quick raid in target or walmart, he always has to hold your hand

because “who knows what’s out there now that the world is ending, babe? gotta keep you safe.”

bro i love him so much i miss his stupid face oikawa i didn’t mean it come back home baby

akaashi keiji

when i tell you this man deserves an award for being the best boyfriend on earth

ugh he’s just so ? perfect

quarantine life with akaashi !!! is so !! romantic and domestic and beautiful

he insists on going grocery shopping alone, keys in his hand, him wearing a jacket over his hoodie, jeans and sneakers with a cross chain

this man is a sight for sore eyes

but even if he does insist on going alone so you can just sit back and not get exposed to the corona

you always tell him you like it when you’re with him especially when you do domestic stuff like shopping together and driving together at night with the windows down

when you’re shopping together, he’s the one who pushes the cart with his right hand and his left hand is intertwined with yours

you go pick out the stuff you like to buy and he tells you whether or not to put it back because let’s be honest he’s 90% of your wise decision making

he’s a light sleeper who has a good bed time

but when he wakes up at 2 am to see you leaning against the bed frame with the comforter over your head watching tiktoks

he doesn’t mind propping himself up next to you as he leans his head on your shoulder and watches what’s on your fyp

(he falls asleep there 97.9% of the time)

you love him

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years ago

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Visitation - November 2020

A full year since your first visitation, you find yourself getting ready to meet Yancy in a different place in the prison. One hour. One ‘date’. How would it go?

Word Count: 1,949

Even if visiting Happy Trails Penitentiary once a month was a regular event at this point for you, it didn’t dismiss the butterflies that were fluttering in the pit of your stomach as you arrived with a rucksack. This, in a way, was the first ‘date’ with Yancy since you started your romantic relationship. Finding love as part of a volunteer project was not part of the plan, but now you couldn’t see this any other way. The letters that were sent back and forth were kept together in a folder in your room where they would be safe. A year let you see the little things that happened through Yancy’s writing: how it became easier to write letters that spanned several pages, how Yancy’s handwriting grew a little neater as the months passed, how he continued using the notebook paper and stationery you gave him. You were sure he could see the same in you. Maybe he’d notice the way you spoke more about your life (the good and the bad), or how you put care into your letters, even going as far as adding some doodles in the hope it’d make him smile.

You were in love, and there was no denying that.

The receptionist gave a knowing smile as she explained how conjugal visits went while a guard checked the contents of your bag. How obvious were the nerves, despite the fact it was the same thing as usual? There was a small apartment-like setup in a quiet wing of the prison. It consisted of an open space living room-kitchen combo, a bathroom, and a bedroom that would be locked (it was reserved for families that had to travel long distances for conjugal visits). The rules were rattled off: you and your possessions would be searched to ensure nothing suspicious was inside, cleanliness would be crucial, you would receive a half-hour warning, among other things.

“An’ above all, I don’t wanna hear y’all were up to any funny business.” The Warden’s sudden appearance made you jump. “I know you two’re fine, upstanding youths, but if I catch a peep of trouble, there’ll be a firm warnin’ given. I know that’s not gonna be th’ case!” He slapped your shoulder with an amused chuckle, and it took all your might to bottle up a wince. “I wanna wish ya luck. We’ve been running this here volunteer project for over ten years now, and this is only th’ second time a volunteer and prisoner started datin’. I’m happy for the both of ya. You’ve done more good for Yancy than anyone else. C’mon, I’ll bring ya down.”

As you were led to the conjugal room, Warden Murder-Slaughter began telling you how he noticed Yancy’s improved mood over recent weeks. The greaser had been working on bettering himself and engaging with classes. He had a reason to do these things thanks to you, the Warden surmised. He looked like he was going to say something else, but decided against it. You were suspicious at first, but you quickly realised you were approaching an open door. A voice could be heard from inside giving a warning of some sort, before an aggravated “Youse don’t need to remind me of this for the fifth time!” was snapped in return.

“Sounds like Yancy made it here first,” the Warden laughed as he pushed the door open. “An’ I’m sure he’s gonna be on his best behaviour. It’s a special day, right?” He smirked at Yancy, who was standing beside a coffee table. The prisoner’s response was a grumble and a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll leave ya alone. C’mon Smith.” The guard nodded and followed after the Warden, closing the door and leaving you two alone.

Even if Yancy was in his normal prisoner outfit, it looked brighter than before. Was it specially cleaned, or was it a new one just for the occasion? Then again, you had dressed up beyond your normal visitation clothes. Before anything could be said, you put your bag down and charged into his arms for a hug. It was immediately reciprocated as he pulled you close to his chest. It was better than any of the brief hugs you shared in greeting during previous visitation sessions. It was almost like you were home. A strange sentiment to feel, but it was the best comparison you could think of. He smelled like soap, with a faint lingering of smoke; and his embrace was warm.

“It’s good to see youse too.” Yancy eventually broke the silence, reluctantly pulling back just far enough to see your face. “Youse look perfect today. Can’t believe this is actually happening…” A thought that had crossed your mind many times today. It was likely why neither of you wanted to break the hug, but Yancy was the one who made the brave decision to end it so he could lift a small package wrapped haphazardly in toilet paper.

“I, uh, didn’t have no wrapping paper.” You insisted it was fine, and ripped it apart to reveal a grey prison cap. “I’ve been savin’ up money I’ve earned while working the cleaning shifts, and I know it ain’t much but I wanted to show that I do care an’ -” As he rambled, you unfolded the cap and put it on before kissing him on the cheek to cut him off. “O-oh. Looks good on youse. Thought it was better than something like a shirt. Huh? Oh, yeah. We can buy all sorts of little things like this in commissary. But youse gotta save up if youse don’t have a trust fund.” It did explain why he previously resorted to chocolate bars. You made a note to ask about that at reception afterward. For now, you plucked your bag off the ground and offered him a large bottle of soda.

“Fuck yeah, you remembered! Did youse get the chips too?” Your answer was to pull the snack out and playfully shake it. “Hold on, I seen bowls and glasses!”

Snacks and drinks were shared as you two curled up on the couch and chatted. It was definitely a better setting than the visitation room. Without anyone watching you, both of you could relax and be completely at ease. The only distraction was the half-hour warning, and that’s when you noticed Yancy seemed to close up a little. You playfully poked his side and pointed out that another conjugal visit could be arranged once the staff see today went well, but Yancy gave a quick shake of his head. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced aside like he was trying to build confidence. Instead of encouraging him to talk, you took one of his hands in yours and squeezed it softly.

“Sorry. I ain’t trying to ruin the day. I just… Thought this would be easier than it is.” You were quick to assure him that it was okay, and he should take his time. It was appreciated. Yancy forced himself to take a slow breath before looking at you.

“I love youse. I have for months. I know that’s a bit stupid since we’ve been sorta dating most of the year, but I means it. And I wanna do what I can to show I’m serious ‘bout this. This ain’t no little fling, or me being nice to not hurt youse’s feelings. I love you, really. So I, well…” Another slow breath was taken to motivate himself. “I wanna apply for parole. You don’t deserve a boyfriend locked up in prison. I wanna be a better person for youse, the man youse should be with. It ain’t gonna be easy, an’ it’s gonna take a year or so to get things going but… If youse is okay with waiting, then I’ll do everything I can to prove I can try - try and be a good guy.” You felt your heart stumble over itself in surprise. You had been told a year ago how Yancy was a prisoner that would be happy to rot behind bars. Looking at him now, you couldn’t help but smile and promise you’d help in any way you could. “I just need to knows that you’ll be there. I had nothing worth living for out there before I met you and - and while life is pretty great in here, I wanna see your world.”

You hugged him tight. It was all you could do. His arms were around you in a flash as his breathing turned slightly shaky. No matter what, you’d be there every step of the way. He wouldn’t be alone when parole was granted. You’d be there, and you’d introduce him to your own friends and family. He’d have people who wanted to help him by his side.

“Even if I’ve killed people?” You countered whether he had the urge to kill anyone now. “No! ‘Course not! I’m not some creep who loves that kinda thing!” That was enough for you to support him, a fact that had Yancy pause in realisation.

“I ain’t a nice guy. I get angry pretty easily. I don’t know a lotta stuff, an’ I ain’t good at learning things.” Points, you argued, that weren’t important enough to end a relationship. Yancy was human. No one was perfect.

“Youse is gonna get some weird looks, dating a guy like me.” You could hear resignation in his voice at that. He was trying to talk himself out of this, not try and scare you off. Reinforcing the hug was your immediate response. No matter what, you’d be there. No one can truly look down on a man who is trying to do better.

“Y’know youse ain’t gonna be able to move out of the state, yeah? Not without a lotta paperwork.” At last, you broke into a giggle and insisted moving out of state was less important than living somewhere with Yancy there too. That was enough to help the doubts lift as Yancy laughed. “Yeah… I’d like that. You an’ me… It’d be nice, I bet.”

The last minutes were spent close together, talking about what the parole process was (you had to look it up online) and what would need to be done. It was a promising start to have Yancy feeling more confident. As he joked about how he’d challenge the parole board to a fist fight to prove his worth, you realised that it was something he did want to do. In a way, it was like you gave him the strength to look beyond the prison walls and wonder about the world that had turned its back on him years ago.

But before you could climb off the couch to get ready to leave, Yancy took your hand to keep you sitting. He looked you in the eye with a soft smile spreading on his lips. “Before we go, I, uh… I wanna do something first.” You trusted him, so you nodded to give permission. His free hand rested on your cheek as he leaned close and kissed you. It was gentle and brief, yet there was a trace of ‘thank you’ in the action. “We never properly kissed before now. Got a little carried away with all that chit-chat.” You grinned and returned the gesture. The love you had was mixed with excitement. A step had been made in the relationship, making it more official than before.

“Love you.”

A year can bring so many things, good and bad. Even when one year ends, the next can bring about its own excitement. It might be a long road ahead, but you were ready to take it on every step of the way.

---

And that’s a wrap! One full year of visitations! I did have fun working on this, but I’m glad to be finished. It’s entirely your decision how things go from here, but I’m sure it will be a happy ending.

Should you ever feel like reading the entire series in one go, head on over to my AO3, where I have it all ready and waiting!

#writersofmark #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #yancy #Visitation day #final part hype!#it's cheesy; it's fluffy; but it's the final chapter and I can do what I like! >:D #(read-more is for tidiness! :D )#personal fave

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meltingangels · 4 years ago

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As it’s been up on AO3 for a while now, I am making my first Cyberpunk fic available to read on tumblr!

Fic Title:

It's Not a Shrine

Fic Summary:

"What the fuck, V?" (I made a post on tumblr about how funny it would be if V was some kind of Samurai/Silverhand superfan. And how Johnny would react if he walked in and saw all these posters and shit on the wall. And I needed some serotonin, so here we are)

So I made this random post on tumblr and someone said they’d like to see it ‘made canon’ so here I am with this. Whether it progresses or stays as a oneshot depends on the reception.

Basically, I thought of what would happen if V was into older/indie rock music, and a big fan of Samurai- Johnny Silverhand’s group. And how he would react (if he didn’t show up in V’s apartment like he does that first time) if he walked in and there was this huge-ass poster of him on the wall.

Just have at it, lads. This starts off kinda serious, to set the scene. Also because I feel starting off serious makes the end part all the funnier.

Also because I don’t know how to do a short oneshot.

V figured that whatever was on that fucking relic had to be a pretty big deal, if Dexter Deshawn and Evelyn were willing to up against Arasaka to get it. Sure, it would have been nice to know exactly what that was, but given how much time and planning had gone into every other aspect of this insane heist, they’d just shoved any thoughts about the relic itself to the back of their mind.

They just had to focus on somehow pulling this off, which...even with all the planning...was going to be a fucking miracle. Any aspect of the plan could end up getting fucked up, or someone could end up fucking them over, but the fact that a successful heist would propel them into the fucking stratosphere of Night City’s underworld- with a paycheck to match- was just...well.

Too much to resist. Who wouldn’t want to take up that sort of opportunity? They’d be insane not to try. Anyone who was worth anything in the sprawling underground network of the city’s gangs would know who they fucking were.

It’d come with it’s drawbacks of course, but once people know they’d gone up against fucking Arasaka and stolen a relic from right under Yorinobu’s hands?

Most wouldn’t even dare to touch them.

Yeah, the idea of ‘making it to the big leagues’ as Jackie had said it, was too much for either him or V to resist. Sure, they’d talked about it a hell of a lot, going over the risks and all. Which outweighed all their past jobs put together. What they’d done so far was small-time stuff. Just general merc business, nothing to be overly proud of. Certainly nothing to attract any big names. Truth be told, V still wasn’t sure how Jackie had managed to get them the gig in the first place.

But they hadn’t questioned it. Just like they’d stopped questioning the heist when presented with Dexter’s plan and the hefty reward they’d negotiated. Which, again, was more than most of their past jobs put together. Given how much money and time was going into the heist, despite the fact it would take a miracle to pull off without a hitch, it seemed almost foolproof.

But it had gone wrong in every possible way. Despite claiming the plan was pretty much bulletproof, and he had some of the most reliable sources for all his information, Dexter had still somehow missed the fact that the fucking Emperor had come to talk to his son. A huge factor that had turned everything upside down. Not only had they been made unwilling witnesses to the heir of Arasaka murdering his own fucking father, the entire hotel going up on alert had sent literal shockwaves through their oh-so-foolproof plan.

V and Jackie couldn’t get back out through the elevator and ended up shimmying along the literal edge of the balcony, with a fucking glass roof on one side, and a sheer drop on the other. And because everything had gotten completely screwed, they’d had to take the glass roof option. The rush of adrenaline and fear coming from sliding down the tilted roof, with dozens of bullets raining down way too close to their backs, was nothing compared to having pain ripple through them as every last breath was knocked out of them.

Then there had been the sense of terror, sending chills down V’s spine, when they turned to Jackie and saw the blood seeping through his white-collar shirt. The knowledge that they somehow had even less time than they thought. That was...honestly...V didn’t think anything could have been worse than that. Looking up from the scarlet red, to the sudden paleness of Jackie’s face. A face that looked more in shock than anything else, eyes hinting at the fear he quickly tried to hide behind his usual jokes and bravado.

V had barely taken her eyes off of him the entire time, terrified that every time they looked over, he’d be dead on the floor. But, somehow, against the odds of that stomach-turning injury- and the countless waves of Arasaka guards armed to the teeth, they’d made it. Made it out, the chip safe and secure in Jackie’s head, to the relative security of the Delamain vehicle. Where V had almost let out a laugh at the fact they’d made it.

Only for Jackie to bleed to death in the back seat, while she was powerless to stop it. The feeling of his blood seeping out over her fingers, bunching her jacket up against the wound, had somehow been fucking nothing compared to how he’d reached out to touch her face and smile. That same crooked, warm smile, eyes shining like this wasn’t the last time they’d be doing so. Or how her heart had finally shattered into a million pieces when that hand fell down, and his body went slack. Honestly, no amount of alcohol or drugs that Night City could offer would ever get that out of her memory.

V knew it would haunt her nightmares for years, if those ever stopped. Then there was those first moments without Jackie, with her stumbling out of the car covered in her best friend’s blood. With the scarlet fucking covering her up to the elbows, staining her own white shirt the same way it had ruined Jackie’s.

She could remember stumbling into the motel, and before she had it in her to find her way to Dexter’s saferoom, there had been a thought just as terrifying as the idea of Jackie’s body being back in the car waiting for her.

The thought of having to take Delamain round to Mama Welles’ place and show her that her son was gone.

And as if that wasn’t enough of a clusterfuck for her mind to deal with, she’d then been left reeling with the bitter sting of betrayal. Panicking in a way that showed the exact opposite of the slick, cool gangster he always portrayed, Dexter had shot her in the fucking head. After his goon had beat her to a fucking pulp. Which, of course, V assumed would be the end. A world class beating and a bullet to the brain did tend to bring an end to someone’s life. Well, the bullet would do that by itself. All the implants in the world couldn’t save you if your mind was completely fucked.

But somehow she’d fucking made it through that. Left in a pained daze as confusion overrode any sense of fear or anger. Jackie had died. Why hadn’t she? There was a bullet in her head, so why the hell wasn’t she wherever you went when you died. If there was ever any such place, that is. Why had she somehow survived, not only through said beating + bullet, but through the insane fucking car chase after?

That had ended in a crash that almost took out the guy who pulled her through all that.

As if all of those events weren’t consecutive, metaphorical and literal hits to the heart, there was then the mind-fucking revelation that followed. That the relic wasn’t just any piece of fancy tech. No. Well, sure, it was a fancy piece of tech. But it was also so much more. As were the memories V had previously believed were some kind of hallucination. This piece of tech, buried in their own fucking head, was a digital construct. Something that was almost like a human soul . Which was mind blowing as it was.

But then there had been the moment V realised the truth of what Viktor was saying to them.

They had Night City legend Johnny Silverhand in their head. His construct had been what Dexter and Evelyn had risked everything for. What Jackie had given his life for.

Yeah, the guy was no doubt a terrorist. But there had been some kind of method to the guy’s madness. And even with that, they couldn’t work out how to feel. Yeah, the idea of being wiped clean was fucking terrifying, but the fact that neither of them would be able to do anything about it? That changed things. V thought the tech was conscious in its decision to take over her body. But it was just that. A piece of tech, going on what it had been programmed to do.

Of course, they were still terrified. They’d beaten death once, only to have it looming at their back again. But there was some sliver of hope. The guy who saved them, Goro Takemura, had ultimately saved V because they were the only other living witness to the Emperor’s murder, but their first meeting had given V that hope. He’d given them some leads to follow, promising more information if V helped out on his end.

And that had been just enough to keep V going. Whilst they’d yet to see any sort of physical manifestation of Silverhand’s construct, what they were dealing with outside of that was still more than any sane person would want to deal with. They’d found out, in the absence of her return, Delamain had returned Jackie’s body to his family.

Meaning some strange, shot up car had arrived on Mama Welles’ doorstep, carrying her son’s broken and bloody body.

Facing the woman after that had been almost as terrifying as staring their oncoming death in the face. But she’d shown V compassion they still didn’t believe they’d deserved, including them in every part of Jackie’s memorial celebration, letting them contribute to the ofrenda and speak of just some of the many fond memories V had of her son. Who had been taken from the world far too fucking early, right when they’d really started their climb to the top.

Then there had been the sucker-punch of emotions that resulted when the woman gifted Jackie’s motorcycle to her. The piece of hardware he’d saved up for months to get, buffing it up and tweaking it every chance he’d got. The one vehicle he never, ever, let V drive.

God, that...that had been something else. Picking up the keys, turning them in the ignition, and being sent to their knees by the rush of memories that resulted. Memories that turned into an agonising blur, sending spikes of pain into their head, leaving V unable to move from where they’d knelt against the unforgiving ground.

That, of all places, had been the first time Johnny Silverhand had showed up. In the flesh, so to speak- standing before V almost as clear as a real fucking person. It was also the time they learned that a hell of alot of the stories about the guy were true. If she had his memories, he had hers, so he’d no doubt have known the sequence of events that brought him here.

But he’d still gone into some kind of rage, taking control of V’s body for a few terrifying moments, scattering some of the clutter that Jackie had clustered in every corner of his garage. Slamming her head against the fucking wall . The guy had been fucking terrifying, all but holding V by the throat, going off on some tangent about how he now had a chance to end the shit he’d started with Arasaka half a decade ago, with that fucking bomb that wiped out damn near all the tower- the blast of orange light shattering every single window in a several mile radius.

A blast that had been powerful enough to shake the foundations of the buildings around the tower, in a way that signalled the start of something. Or what Johnny wanted to start back then, at least.

V shouldn’t have expected much more from someone who was a known anarchist, but they did. Because in a way they’d been dodging talking about, they knew a hell of a lot more about Silverhand than they were letting on. How he’d not seen certain memories, V wasn’t sure. But they were grateful to that twist of fate. Because yeah, they knew way more than they should. That was an understatement. When they’d been tossed from foster home to foster home after their parents died in an armed robbery, one of the few things V had been able to do to escape it all had been through getting into music.

One of the handful of friends she had at her last home, before turning 16, had saved up from this little waitressing job they had at some tiny diner- all so they could gift V with a retro music player she’d been coveting. It was second hand, perhaps a few times over, bought from some old rocker- but it was one of the best gifts they’d received.

At first, they’d thought about using the tech skills they’d learned in their research outside of school to wipe the device clean. But something had stuck out. The device showed up the album covers on the screen, but would also play a holographic image of the main performers via a tiny projector in the device itself. And, bored of waiting for other music to download through the home’s crowded, outdated internet, they settled in to scroll through what the old rocker had left on there. One particular album had stood out to them amidst the black and silver of metal and old rock.

It was a dark cover, upon which was set a distinct logo. A black and red Samurai-type mask, eyes seeming to be set ablaze even as a still image. When they’d selected it, they saw the projection. Admittedly, it was a bit fucked up- blurry and glitchy in places. Not in as high quality as the rest; clearly recorded by a fan in the audience.

Patched together. But patched together in a way only a devoted fan could.

That, and the bright-ass logo, convinced V to listen.

And that had been it, pretty much. They’d gone through the entire album in one sitting, and that was all they listened to for three days straight. At first, it was just the general tune and the lead singer’s voice that drew her in. But then she started really listening to the lyrics, and that’s what truly started her down that twisted rabbit hole. She started digging into who Samurai were, and, more specifically, who their lead was. They were a proper, kind of old school rock band, who had a pretty decent and dedicated following.

But they never went mainstream. Which, given their lyrics and what happened with Silverhand, made sense. When V first read about how Johnny Silverhand started a one-man war against Arasaka, the figurehead of the monopolising corporations that had taken over the world, they were hooked pretty much instantly. They saw and heard way too many stories growing up on the streets, of shops being taken over and homes being demolished for shiny skyscrapers and luxury hotels.

Of how the streets became laden with neon logos and signs blaring into your vision as far as your orbital implants could see. How they held a terrifying amount of control over the NCPD and major leadership positions. That the city was basically a monopoly board for the ultra rich to play in. To fuck with in whatever way they saw fit.

So yeah, like any sane person (or angsty teen) would do, V found themselves in Samurai’s music. And as the years went by, and they learned more about Silverhand and how he’d somehow managed to bring down Arasaka’s own fucking tower in Night City- at the cost of his own life now less- for the chance at bringing down the megacorporations ruining people’s lives, they found it being a part of themselves. Especially as they got into the mercenary gig at 18 and started working their way up, seeing the deepest and darkest parts of Night City’s underworld.

Ok, it was kind of an obsession.

But it wasn’t only an ideal that V could get behind, it was also an escape from the chaos of her life.

Fucking hell, she even spent a huge chunk of her first well-paying job on tracking down and obtaining one of Silverhand’s original guitars. Sure, him and Samurai weren’t the only band with posters and memorabilia decorating her apartment walls (which she carefully took down and carried with her as she moved from place to place), but they were definitely the majority of it. There was even an original poster, taken and edited by a photographer who got into one of Samurai’s last concerts.

A photo of Silverhand all but screaming into the mic, one hand on said microphone, and the other on a gun that gleamed as silver as his cybernetic arm. The crowd reaching out to him amidst a haze of blazing lights and dense smoke.

Which, after all that and a string of events that were like something out of an old Hollywood action movie, left V where she was now. After spending 3 days hopping around Night City, taking on job after job, and switching between motels, they’d finally gotten the courage to go back to their apartment. Because yeah, they were definitely still scared shitless about the idea of their brain essentially being wiped clean. But the immediate issue was that, in the few days she’d had with him cropping up everywhere, she’d gotten to know Silverhand a bit.

The guy still scared her half the time; not that she’d admit that to his fucking smug (and annoyingly good-looking) face, but the other half of the time? He was pretty interesting. Definitely still holding on to a metric tonne of anger towards Arasaka, and more blunt and abrasive than any person she’d ever met, but interesting. Beneath the layers of anger and resentment, as well as more cockiness than one person should ever fucking possess, there was hints at the shit beneath all that.

Of who Johnny was, beyond the legend attached to his name.

So yeah, that left them stuck outside the door of V’s apartment, Johnny crossing his arms as he leant back against the wall with a huff- the former being more than a little afraid to open the door. They’d lucked out with the memories of hers that he’d seen so far, but that was going to run out sooner or later. Especially with the both of them being on borrowed time. So it was better to get this shit out of the way sooner, rather than later.

Didn’t make the prospect any more appealing, of course. She knew how Johnny felt about the so-called fanatics and groupies. Good for a one night stand, but nothing else. 'Just following the slightest sense of fame' as he put it. So V could only imagine how he’d react to not only seeing a room half full of Samurai memorabilia, but also the knowledge he was stuck in the body of the owner of said memorabilia.

One of the ‘wild fans’ he’d said he despised. Sure, V wasn’t exactly ashamed of liking Silverhand’s music (or him, because fuck) but having your teenage hero seeing a room full of his band’s shit was on another level.

And she couldn’t even duck away afterwards. They were literally stuck together for the foreseeable future.

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck fuckfuckfuck.

“Any reason you’re stood there with your eyes wide as hell, like your fucking brain already got wiped?” Johnny spoke up, abruptly bringing her back to the present.

“No. No reason.” V shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant whilst internally screeching.

“Something in there you don’t want me to see?” Johnny showed up in the corner of her vision, leaning against the wall. “Can’t be any worse than the shit out here.”

“You that interested in seeing my apartment?”

“With the alternative being stuck in your head staring at a fucking door, yeah. I am.”

Okay, he was definitely getting more and more pissed off as the seconds ticked by. To be fair, she had been staring at the door trying to gather the courage to open said door...for about...five minutes. Truth be told, she was surprised Silverhand lasted that long. Guy wasn’t exactly one for being patient.

Which was the understatement of the fucking century. But the idea of him fucking her up for making him wait was somehow, somehow, worse than the idea of who was basically her (he was an anarchist asshole, but damn if the guy didn’t make a good point sometimes) idol growing up, seeing her apartment plastered in his band’s memorabilia. There was already an onset of cringe overtaking V’s system, grimacing as she anticipated the barrage of fucked up questions that would be coming her way- but somehow she finally got in in her to swipe the key across her door.

At least she hadn’t left it in a fucking mess like she normally did.

That would be something.

When Johnny casually walked through her to examine the apartment, V stepped in after him, the door sliding shut agonisingly loud behind her. Those first few seconds were some of the longest of her life, and given all the shit that had happened recently, especially what got her to this bizarre fucking moment in the first place- that was saying something. Saying something. Which was, V realised, something that Silverhand wasn’t doing.

In the few days they’d spent together, he rarely shut up. So this was about as miraculous as her rising from the fucking dead. Of course, the silence had it’s drawbacks- V could practically feel the tension rising...as Johnny scanned the room. As he no doubt saw the countless Samurai poster variations amidst the swathes of rock memorabilia. And, of course, landed on the huge fucking poster of him on the opposite wall.

Which went literally floor to ceiling, beaming out amidst the cluttered apartment like the fucking neon lights of the city outside.

Something that made the silence all the more-

“Hey, V?” Johnny spoke up abruptly.

“...yeah?” V braced herself.

“What the fuck?”

V opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a nervous laugh. Sure, she was mildly terrified, but the way he just said it so deadpan and blunt as he slowly turned halfway- eyebrows raised so fucking high you could see it above those trademark sunglasses...it was honestly one of the funniest things she’d ever seen and heard.

It somehow sounded simultaneously unlike him, without any of the usual spite or anger, but so much like what she’d expected all the same. He sounded a mixture of disappointed, and outright freaked the fuck out. Which was...understandable. The guy had been brought back from the dead, stuck in some random ass stranger's body, only to walk into their apartment to see half of the wall was like some fucked up poster shrine to him and his band.

Yeah. V could understand his reaction. Didn’t make it any less hilarious. (Or make her any less scared of the inevitable fallout, but hey)

“You gone deaf or something? Relic malfunction?” Johnny tried getting her attention. “I said...what the fuck, V?”

“I...uh...can...explain?” V spoke hesitantly, hands raised in mock (no, totally real) surrender.

“Uh huh. Really?” Johnny didn’t look or sound convinced, arms crossing in front of his chest as he turned to fully face her. “Going to make this worse and tell me what I think is going on?”

“What...do you think...is going on?”

“This shit isn’t in bad condition, but I can tell its old as fuck.” Johnny gestured to the wallpaper-like swathe of posters. “And not because its Samurai shit either.”

“So…” V wrung her wrists together nervously.

“You’ve probably had it since you were like, what? A fucked up hormonal teenager?”

“I…”

“Great.”

“Look, this-”

“Is somehow worse than waking up in your body?”

“Hey!”

“How would you feel if you rose from the fucking dead and found a shrine to yourself?”

“It is not a shrine- ”

“Sure looks like it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself-”

“Says the asshole with a huge fucking poster of me on their living room wall.”

“How am I an asshole?”

“Because this shit is weird, V!”

“Liking a band is a bad thing?”

“No. Having a fucking shrine is-”

“IT’S.NOT.A.SHRINE!”

Yeah, V was definitely considering that she was going crazy. Here she was, after almost pulling off the most insane heist Night City in years, the death of her best friend- and rising from the dead...arguing with the digital construct of the guy she’d looked up to for half her fucking life. Over whether her (admittedly kind of oversized) poster of said idol made up the centerpiece of some kind of shrine. If you’d told her this was what her life would amount to, trying to defend her teenage-borne obsession with an indie rock band to their resurrected anarchist/terrorist lead singer, she wouldn’t have believed you.

Not even after overdosing on every fucking drug Night City had to offer.

God, worse than the insanity was how fucking embarassed she felt. Because even she was starting to realise how weird it would be for Silverhand to wake up in someone’s head, only to walk into their apartment and see said person was pretty much obsessed with him. Because yeah, she had to admit to herself it was an obsession.

How could you blame her? The guy’s music was pretty fucking awesome, he had somewhat understandable views on corporate overlords... and he was probably one of the most attractive guys to ever walk the streets of Night City.

But he hadn’t seen every poster yet. He’d turned back round, talking about something V couldn’t hear over the rising mix of terror and cringe running through her veins, fixated on that huge-ass poster of him on the wall opposite them. And he’d yet to almost crack his voice with another what the fuck , meaning yeah. He hadn’t seen every poster.

Namely, the one she’d stuck on the square wall behind her bed. Which was worse than the gigantic one taking up a quarter of one of her living room walls. It was some reporter’s photo from a backstage venture at one of Samurai’s concerts. (Taking up that whole section of wall) Silverhand was sitting on top of an unused amplifier, looking at someone outside of the camera’s point of view. Signature vest top nowhere to be seen, leaving him shirtless. In those stupid tight leather pants and boots combo. With his trademark sunglasses on. Smoking a cigarette, smirking, skin shining-

Possibly the thirstiest fucking image that photographer could have taken.

“V?” Johnny snapped her out of it.

"What?" V bit back.

Shit, she’d gotten distracted by the somewhat spicy photo. (Another thing she’d take to her fucking grave) She had to move while his attention was still on the other poster. Because if she could just cross the few feet over to her bed, unnoticed, she could carefully pull the poster down and stash it under the bed. She could say some shit about how yeah, it was pretty fucking weird, and take down the other one after.

Yeah, if V could just make it across the floor, she’d get through this with at least a shred of her dignity intact.

However, Fate (the bitch) seemed to have even more fucked up plans for her.

Because today, of all days, in this one shitty moment…

Her foot landed on the creakiest fucking patch of flooring in the entire goddamn apartment.

Johnny instantly turned to face her, downed eyebrows raising once more when he took in her almost cartoon-like sneaking stance. Even though she knew she looked fucking ridiculous, V couldn’t quite bring herself to move. She was literally frozen in fear, knowing that any second now...

“The hell are you-” Johnny started, before turning his head.

As he started to follow her line of sight, V relaxed her cartoon pose and started slyly backing away, (Like that would help her. The guy was literally stuck in her head) following his gaze. When his eyes finally crossed over to her bed, V felt herself get struck with the hugest fucking sucker-punch of cringe she’d felt since she was the angsty teenager that had inadvertently gotten her into this mess.

But then Johnny finally fixed his eyes upon the shirtless photo of him, stuck up next to her bed of all places.

“Oh for fuck’s sake-”

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absolutelyinvinciblebritishgent · 4 years ago

Text

What if the Sound Trio survived and became Leaf ninjas?

Headcanons under the cut (bitch, it’s a lot of headcanons)

~ Chunin Exam Finals/Invasion~

Dosu was shown to be suspicious of Orochimaru because of the whole Sasuke/curse mark thing and seemed like he wasn’t wanting to be a part of Orochimaru’s shit anymore so he’s the one who realizes something is up

Rather than face Gaara he somehow finds out about sand’s allegiance with sound (overhearing Baki and Kabuto on the way to Gaara, eavesdropping on Orochimaru [because, again, sus], etc...) and that’s what pushes him to defect from sound (also how he manages to live)

Dosu, Zaku, and Kin aren’t necessarily close, but in the anime Dosu did sort of say he was gonna get revenge on behalf of Zaku for what happened to his arms so there is a sense of something there (whether it be friendship, camaraderie, or just wanting to stick together to survive... idk) and Dosu tells his teammates what’s up and convinces them that they gotta GTFO

Zaku is a little more difficult to convince because why would Orochimaru do that to him? He saved Zaku from being a street rat, he gave Zaku power

Dosu ain’t having it and is like “if you wish to stay behind then that is your decision, in the end it is better for us to not have to carry any dead weight” (obviously referring to Zaku’s inability to do anything because of his arms)

Dosu then proceeds to tell Zaku how he no longer serves a purpose without his arms and he was nice enough to still want to take Zaku with him, Orochimaru would not be so kind

Zaku is upset because he knows Dosu has a point and they all leave

They (read: Dosu) decide that their best chance of survival is staying in Konoha because, the minute they leave, the sound village/Orochimaru will be gunning for their asses and also they’d be missing-nin, so others would try to kill them too

But what can they do to assure they don’t get imprisoned or killed due to having worked under Orochimaru? Rat out the sound village and give all the information they know/found out about the invasion and sand’s involvement

Third Hokage is a cool dude and also was Orochimaru’s teacher so he knows the kind of power this bitch can have over people which is why he agrees to let the sound trio stay and have them watched by Anbu

Dosu does not participate in the chunin exam finals because witness protection, or something

The invasion still happens because Orochimaru ain’t stupid. His “pawns” are nowhere to be found so it’s likely they’re betraying him, so obviously he makes changes to the plan

Dosu, Kin, and Zaku do not participate in fighting off the invasion because, uh, super strict house arrest orders???

Third Hokage dies and this FREAKS the trio out because a) oh shit Orochimaru actually did it and b) we’re only allowed to be here because of him, so what’s going to happen to us

Council is deciding what to do with them and has them staying hidden/as they were, but what’s more important to them is finding Tsunade and having her take over as Hokage so the trio are just anxiously chilling

Tsunade is Hokage now and she decides to let them stay because they turned their backs on Orochimaru and also she trusts Sarutobi’s judgment on letting them stay initially, but they are still going to be watched by Anbu to be sure

Naruto and co. find out about the trio and they are PISSED because “not only did you try to kill Sasuke, not only are you from the village that attacked us, not only did you work for Orochimaru but you did nothing to defend Konoha during the invasion. If you want to be a part of this village then you should have helped”

Tsunade tells these bitches to simmer down. They were under Anbu house arrest. She’s Hokage and they need to respect her decision. Also Zaku, let’s fix your arms.

~Sasuke Retrieval Arc~

Everyone is immediately on the trio’s ass because “we knew you couldn’t be trusted”

Tsunade has to tell everyone to stfu again

The trio want to go (to prove themselves) and feel they can be of assistance but Tsunade is like Catherine of Aragon because she says there’s no no no no NO WAY. It’s already a dangerous mission, it might be more so for them because Orochimaru is probably after their heads for betraying him and knows all of their skills

Everything about the arc is the same until the point where Shikamaru, Kiba, and Lee need help. Instead of the Sand Siblings being the ones to arrive it’s the sound trio

Zaku saves Kiba... mainly because I imagine them being friends once the trio are accepted and I just want this to be the beginning of their friendship. How he saves him idk because I’m not creative when it comes to fights

Kin saves Shikamaru. Again idk how. Zaku’s slicing sounds waves make more sense here because they work similar to Temari’s fan but I want it to be Kin because kunoichi vs. kunoichi, genjutsu vs. genjutsu, and also the idea of Kin saving the guy who beat her in such an embarrassing way does something to me, but also is a sort of redemption? I just want this battle to show off how skilled Kin can be because she was very underutilized and kinda weak in the original story and I love her so much, she deserves to do cool shit. So let her outsmart Tayuya and, in a way, she is outsmarting Shikamaru because he had no more plans to fall back on

Dosu saves Lee. Again, idk how and, again, I think Zaku’s slicing sound waves would be better here because they can keep Kimimaro (a close range fighter) at bay but I guess seeing Dosu and Kimimaro throwing hands would be cool. And then you have that redemption moment with Lee because Dosu kicked his ass in the forest of death and now he’s saving Lee!

After the mission, despite its failure, the trio are accepted as leaf shinobi and are introduced to their new sensei: cue Anko crashing through the window with a big sign introducing herself again

Similarly to the moment when Naruto spoke out and Anko threw a kunai at him, Zaku gives a snide comment and Anko is immediately at his throat, and then she’s like “JK! But don’t say that again you little shit!”

Anko was chosen to lead the trio due to her past with Orochimaru and because of that she can better understand them

~Other Headcanons~

It took the Konoha 12 a while to accept the trio. The first ones to accept them were Kiba, Lee, and Shikamaru (duh) but also Choji and even Naruto. Choji became cool with them when he found out Shikamaru was cool with them because he trusts Shikamaru’s judgment, and despite originally trying to kill his teammate, Naruto accepts them because they came out and helped so that means they’re a-okay in his book. Neji was slightly taken aback but also accepted them pretty quickly. Basically, the retrieval team was like “yeah okay” and vouch for them.

The ones who took the longest to come around were Ino and Sakura because did y’all just forget what happened at the forest of death???

As I said, I imagine Kiba and Zaku being friends. Mainly because I feel they have similar personalities in the sense that they’re both pretty cocky, boisterous, and talk shit. I imagine them kinda being like rivals in the sense of they’re always trying to one up each other

Zaku is still not fond of Shino because of the whole bugs in arms thing so whenever Shino is around Zaku is just like “I hate your teammate” to Kiba

Kin/Shikamaru could potentially replace the Temari/Shikamaru relationship. Both Kin and Temari are very similar in the sense of being an ex-villain, being viewed as scarier/more intense compared to the Konoha girls, being older by a couple years, and they both lost (well, Temari technically won but we all know she lost) to Shikamaru. Because of this the Kin/Shikamaru relationship wouldn’t be all that different to how the Temari/Shikamaru relationship is shown

That being said I love the sand siblings and don’t want them gone and because of how similar I feel Kin and Temari are they become really good friends and Kin enjoys when Temari visits. They both make Shikamaru’s life hell though. Double Trouble™️

Also I said potentially because I like exploring the idea of Kin/Zaku or Kin/Dosu (:

Dosu and Shino actually get along really well (much to the dismay of Zaku). They’re the type of people where they can sit in silence with each other and it’s just chill. And when they have to work together they kinda have flawless teamwork and don’t even need to speak to know what the other plans on doing

Kin and Sakura actually get along now? They’re not best friends by any means but they can be civil and respect each other

Team Kurenai and Team Sand are the teams that the trio get along with the best/most easily tho

Kin cut her hair to her lower back. Cue everyone cracking jokes about Neji and Kin looking the same from behind. Kin stops tying her hair after that

The trio have really well trained ears because back in Otogakure they had to learn to pick up on the subtlest of sounds in order to spy on enemies and communicate at such a low volume that to any normal ear sounds like silence but to them the message is loud and clear

Because of this they’re all amazing singers (Dosu is the best tho because he has the best trained ear. Seriously, being able to tell what someone is writing based on the sounds of their pencil? Skills.) and everyone likes hearing them sing.

That being said, despite being from the land of sound they didn’t actually know any songs because the sound village doesn’t really do music. It was forbidden because no one is allowed joy in the land of sound. Jk. But it did have to do with depriving people of normalcy because Orochimaru was creating an army of followers

This little singing/music tidbit was discovered by Naruto and he took it upon himself to show the trio music. It wasn’t all good music, but it’s music!

Also, despite being the best singer, Dosu doesn’t really do it. Dude doesn’t even hum. He’ll only sing if Kin and Zaku start pestering or if Anko wants him to

The first (and only) time Kin and Zaku saw Dosu cry was shortly after they became leaf shinobi. Anko and Tsunade were telling the team how brave it was for them to leave Orochimaru and sound behind, and Anko especially complimented Dosu on taking him and his team out of that situation. Kin and Zaku had been trying to hold back tears and keep up their tough image but the minute they saw Dosu crying, not trying to wipe away his tears or hide them or anything they lost it

No one talks about their little crying session. It’s a secret

Despite getting his arms fixed by Tsunade, Zaku still has problems with them, especially his right one (I think that’s the one that got blown off) and needs to get them treated consistently. Partly due to the fact they he didn’t give himself all the time to heal after Tsunade fixed him because he went to help the retrieval team and, mainly, because of Orochimaru’s experiments. Like, essentially Zaku’s air tube surgery was actually kind of botched and, for lack of a better term, experimental, and is fucking with the nerves and muscles and chakra in his arms and kinda eating away at them. And the crazy damage he took from getting his arms blown off only fucked everything up more

Eventually Zaku gets a better version of his air tube in his left arm and has to completely replace the right arm with a cool prosthetic that lets him do stronger/cooler jutsus

Kin has combined singing with her genjutsu and has created a sort of mind control jutsu... I may or may not have gotten this idea while listening to Come Little Children and remembering that Sarah Sanderson would control kids with song

The trio think Sasuke is a fUCKING DUMBASS for willingly going with Orochimaru. Like, bitch we had to leave that no good asshole for the betterment of our lives and you just waltz out of Konoha and straight into his arms?! What is you doing Uchiha?!

#naruto #zaku abumi #dosu kinuta #kin tsuchi #anko mitarashi #team dosu #team sound #sound trio #otogakure #konoha #konoha 12 #naruto uzumaki #kiba inuzuka #shikamaru nara #fan art #my art #headcanons #so many headcanons #too many headcanons

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seesgood · 4 years ago

Note

ive been "called" out in 2018 and now its midway of 2021 and ppl still put me in their rules and mock-reference me on the dash... ppl i havent spoken to since said 2018 and actively blocked if i could. i feel like ill never be allowed to grow beyond this image of pure evil no matter how much i reflect on myself and my actions and like ill never be allowed to exist on this website without severe anxiety and panic attacks.

okay first of all, hi. thank you for finding your way to my blog, thank you for sending me this message, there’s a lot of things i want to say and i’m going to try to say them as best as i can but first and foremost, honestly, this is why i personally do not fuq with callout posts. --- as i stated before and as i’ll continue stating: i don’t care if people reblog / make callout posts or if you have a DNI, i’m not judging you for having one, i don’t think you’re awful for having one, i just think in general they remove the ability for people to grow and learn and move forward with their lives and they tend to freeze people at their literal worst moments.

i said a lot of really dumb shit in 2018. and 2019. and before then. and after then. and i’ll probably say more tomorrow or yesterday or next week and that’s honestly just kinda how life rolls. we’re human. we fuck up. we should be allowed to atone, learn, apologize, move forward, etc. anon i’m really sorry that that’s been your experience. i’m not sure if i know you, maybe i know you by association ( i think in general there are a lot of people who have been on here since 2018 that people know by association or reputation, whether that be good or bad ). but i’m really sorry that whatever happened, happened and that now you can’t move forward and beyond without that sticking to you. because god damn if there were people following me around reminding me of the kind of person i was during certain friendships or time periods or parts in my life when i, knowing myself, don’t think that i presented myself as best as i could, i too would have a metric shit ton of anxiety and panic attacks.

i’m obviously going to put the disclaimer here that a lot of people have brought up to me since my post yesterday, which is that sometimes there are things that people feel as if the community at large should be made aware of. and yeah, okay, fine. but i personally ( i. personally. ) still think that people should still be allowed to try and learn and grow from shit. because i’m not gonna sit here and judge like i haven’t done some shitty things, or engaged in some problematic behavior, because we all have. there’s a rhyme and a reason for everything, including people’s decisions to have certain individuals that they personally don’t want to have around. i have zero right or desire to tell people what they should do with their blog or what they should be comfortable with or what they should feel. i just want to point out that as human beings, we’re all constantly learning and evolving and changing and we should be allowed to without being continually haunted by stuff that might have happened in the past.

now directly to anon, and anyone else that needs to hear it: you’re allowed to grow. you’re always going to be allowed to grow no matter what awful thing you did. i think depending on the specific situation, you’re always probably going to have to also learn to be okay with the fact that some people might not want to forgive and forget. and you know what? that’s okay. because you don’t need them. and you should grow and learn to be someone that YOU like and can live with. any and all growth and learning you do should ultimately be for you. people are going to like and dislike you regardless of it, which sucks, but there’s about 7 billion people on the planet and statistically speaking, not all of them are going to love you. if they did, you would be chris evans. i don’t know your specific situation, so unfortunately i can’t be like “hey this is what you gotta do” but i do know that there’s a lot to be said about people owning up to mistakes and learning from them, and there’s a lot to be said about letting go of the expectation that you’re going to be liked by everyone you meet. and at the end of the day, if YOU know that you’ve grown, then that’s what matters. because in all honesty if there’s one thing i’ve learned about our home sweet hellsite here it’s that you’re never going to win and you just have to make it yours. but i’m really sorry for the amount of pain it’s caused you, i really hope it eases soon and things get better. and i really do think you deserve to be able to move on, regardless of the situation.

#Anonymous

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greycappedjester · 4 years ago

Note

If it’s ok, could we get a small clip of the next chapter?

Sure!....which story?

Um, here’s one for all of them. It’s long (very, very long) so I’m putting it under “Read More”

(All story segments are not fully edited and may change)

Tooru Oikawa and the Triwizard Tournament

Yamaguchi squinted towards the other side of the Great Hall. “So have they….made up now?”

A few tables down, Kageyama and Hinata seemed to be in the middle of a very loud and very spirited argument on whether condiments could ever count as side dishes. Grievous insults to intelligence had been made and threats of murder were likewise issued.

“I think so.” Ennoshita didn’t sound confident.

Hinata attempted to tackle Kageyama off of his bench.

“But, they’re still not playing together for Quidditch,” Yamaguchi confirmed

Kageyama shoved an apple in Hinata’s face.

Asahi watched wide-eyed. “They said they couldn’t yet.”

A resulting debate over the term 'breakfast fruit’ emerged. It was somehow even more heated.

“But, they’re not fighting?” Yamaguchi had to confirm.

“Suga says they aren’t,” Daichi said.

They had now decided to share the apple. Yachi beamed from beside them. Lev booed.

Yamaguchi decided there and then. “I’m never going to understand their relationship.”

“They’re idiots,’ Tsukishima concluded.

And, thus, the most watched and highly contentious fight of the entire school year--Tournament included--finally came to its baffling end.

--------

After the Fall of Olympus

(Sorry, it’s a depressing one--partly because I can’t take out much from the chapter without giving away a really major spoiler that’s revealed in the first scene)

Dick and Donna have this thing they do.

It started maybe three years after the invasion, before Kory’s ship landed, and when everything was still raw but finally slowly trying to get better.

They’d been in the tower alone, both on monitor duty, when Donna had turned to him and out of the blue asked, “Dick, tell me about Wally West?”

“What,” Dick had asked, too surprised even to feel the pain that sharply.

“You and Roy mention him every now and then. He was your best friend, right? I want to know more about him.”

Dick had just stared. Stared until Donna had admitted in a too quiet voice. “I’m tired of not being able to talk about them.”

So Dick had talked. At the start, it wasn’t even about anything important. Just about what a huge chemistry nerd Wally was. How he flirted with girls non-stop. The time he’d tried to phase through a wall and got half way through before panicking. And then, slowly, Dick moved on to important things. When Dick first told him his secret identity. How Wally had wanted to grow up to be just like his uncle. What Dick had felt when he saw his body.

Donna talked, too. About her sister. About growing up with Diana, about the numb shock watching her death on the news, about wondering if her sister would be proud of her and the a million and one times she was scared of living up to the reputation.

It became a routine. Not every day. Not even every few months. But, now and again, one of them would seek the other out and Donna would talk about Diana or some of her other Amazonian teachers lost in the invasion and Dick would talk about Wally and M’gann and Artemis and Connor and Kaldur and….and Bruce. One time, Dick even talked about Superman.

They talked and the pain didn’t go away--not fully, not ever--but eased until they felt like they could breathe again, until they could remember a past that was colored by more than just the pain of their deaths.

-------

Walking With My Eyes Open

Gen wasn’t a kind man; he was pragmatic. And he’d long decided he’d do absolutely anything, sink to any kind of low, be however ruthless he needed if it meant saving Senkuu’s life.

So….

Decisions, decisions.

He shredded a petal under his nails and tossed it down.

“Gen?” A blonde head popped up beside him. “What are you doing?”

He smiled, making sure it was a soft one despite his mood. Because he absolutely believed in playing favorites and when it came to the village--to his entire life, actually--it wasn’t hard to guess the people that rested on top.

Suika smiled back, a glimpse of bright blue eyes shining through the shadows of her mask. Then, she tilted her head and lowered her voice. “Are you hiding from work?”

Gen laughed, pressing a finger to his lips. “Maybe a bit. Don’t tell on me, okay?” He winked. “Besides, I was considering some options. Thinking counts as work, too, doesn’t it?”

Suika nodded, glancing down at the growing pile of mangled petals then to the daisy Gen was still steadily demolishing. “And the flowers are helping you think?”

Actually, Gen had just been feeling murderous towards flowers lately. Call it enacting justice vicariously.

“Not particularly.” He picked up another flower from beside him and instead of shredding it, started to fold. “You’re right. I think there’s a better use for these.”

A few more quick movements and he wove a flower bracelet, just small enough to slip over Suika’s wrist.

Her grin brightened, looking at it like it was the next great marvel--so, at least Gen had accomplished one thing today.

“It’s so pretty,” Suika said, looking up to see it closer. “And the flowers are so close together. Can you teach me?”

“Sure, once we get some more flowers.” He picked up the last one, winding his fingers around the stem. “You know, now that you mention it. There is an old game about flowers and decisions. Want to hear it?”

Suika sat patiently in front of him, eyes fixed on the daisy because of course, she wanted to learn. What other village could this be?

“It’s very simple.” Gen counted off with one hand, flower in the other. “Two phrases, you pick a petal on each and the one you land on is your answer.” Gen picked a petal. “He loves me.” Another petal. “He loves me not….”

Suika gave a small gasp. “Flowers can tell you if someone’s in love?”

Gen didn’t laugh because he knew it would be bitter.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s just a game. Back before--ah, before even me and Senkuu, that is--ladies would play it to see if their beloved would ever return their affections. It’s silly.”

“So…,” Suika thought a bit, “it’s like a wish, then?”

“I think I’m using it more as a hex,” Gen muttered as he got to the last petal and glared.

He loves me.

Well, fuck.

Gen supposed that’s what he deserved for trusting flowers.

He gave his largest, most theatrical sigh for Suika’s sake. “Ahhh, Suika-chan, look at that! It seems like I lost. More’s the pity for me!”

Suika grinned up at him, hopping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his hips. “It’s okay! I still love you.”

Gen patted her head, smiling despite himself.

“Maybe you were using the wrong flower,” Suika told him.

“Could be.”

“I’ll go get more,” Suika promised. “Then, you can find one that’ll work.”

“More flowers is a good idea,” Gen agreed. “But, I think I’m tired of this game. Why don’t I teach you how to make the best flower crowns in the entire stone world? Then, we’ll both have to be the most beloved people in the whole village, won’t we?”

Immediately, Suika ran off to the woods and Gen watched her go.

At least, flowers could do good somewhere.

He looked down at the mangled flowers. A daisy, purity and innocence.

With a shift of his heel, he ground them a little further into the ground..

Flowers were an awfully pointless thing to blame; but, Gen was petty and they were easier than the alternative.

Still. He taught Suika how to make flower crowns and when she pressed one last bloom into his hand, so excited to find the last one of the season, he took it like his heart hadn’t plunged to his feet.

It was hard to look at black nightshade and forget it was a poison.

-------

Call Me Your Home At Night

(Note: very, very subject to edit. Part of the reason this one has taken awhile is rewrites while I work on tone)

Atsumu was shouting--voice tinny over the phone speakers--and Hinata’s blender was doing its best impressions of death throes while Hinata frantically tried to keep both the chord at the one angle it worked and hold the blender’s lid down so the entire kitchen didn’t end up coated in a weird grey mix of protein shake and bananas. Again. For the fifth time.

In other words, it was a normal morning.

From the part of his mind that noticed these things, Hinata thought it was kinda funny that Atsumu had learned to time his complaining to coordinate with the aggressive disaster that was Hinata’s morning routine.

Like the world’s weirdest symphony, the opposite of harmonizing. A disharmony! That was it!

“Seriously, what the fuck is a ward court and how is it different than a family court? Why do we even need two courts for divorce? Huh? Why not just shove a paper at us and have it done!” Atsumu’s voice got increasingly petulant. “Shouyou, it’s like the entire country is trying to keep good, decent people married! Why does it hate us?”

It was a close call; but, in a competition between one aggravated setter on speaker phone and the relentless whirring of the cheapest blender Hinata could find on the internet, Atsumu still managed to fight his way through.

Hinata gave the phone a sympathetic look even if he knew Atsumu couldn’t see it. He turned off the defeated foe and mentally crowned Atsumu the winner of Disharmony 2016: Blender vs. Atsumu edition. Not that he had much doubt.

“Find anything you like with grounds for divorce?”

Atsumu grumbled which meant no.

Then, Atsumu huffed which meant no and the world wasn’t fair!

So, apparently, divorce was harder than it looked. Actually, a lot of things about this “being married” thing were more complicated than they thought and, in the month since they’d been technically married, Hinata had frequently and strongly fantasized about grabbing his past self by the shoulders and shaking him while screaming ‘WHY?!’ right at his face.

Like taxes!

Who knew how to do taxes? Who knew that taxes were apparently due this month? Including married people taxes which apparently were more complicated and had things like joint filing or separate and dependants and a bunch of other words that Hinata still didn’t understand completely. It wasn’t like he could ask his Mom for help after everything or even beg Yachi or Kenma like usual because that would bring up the whole marriage thing and, ugh, no, no, no, no.

Hinata was pretty sure he and Atsumu had figured it out. Enough, at least. Getting arrested for tax evasion seemed like something that only happened on the news so it was probably fine.

Uh, so, yeah, between the whole moving to Brazil thing and figuring out stuff like rent and utilities and meeting the indoor volleyball team he’d be working with plus some of the beach volleyball players and trying to get his new roommate Pedro to talk to him about things other than laundry and groceries and trying to remember the difference between bolo and bola and finding a job and Atsumu dealing with MSBY promotion stuff and interviews and getting ready for pro-volleyball next season and then them both having to deal with stuff like taxes and still being weirded out about all the accidental wedding stuff in general, they…..well, they hadn’t gotten much done about the whole divorce thing.

Okay, more like they’d gotten exactly one thing done and that was figuring out a time to freak out about all the things they hadn’t gotten done. The good news was that the exactly twelve hour time difference was sorta perfect since it meant Hinata got back from his morning jog about the same time Atsumu came home for dinner, which meant that quickly became their agreed time to call with updates.

….which usually tailed off into both of them talking about volleyball instead because volleyball was a whole lot more fun.

Hinata very carefully pushed aside the resulting mental montage of sand scraping along his arms on a missed receive and feet sinking into the ground and landing face first in burning sand that was happening way more than he’d expected.

Hinata shook his head, scraping the not-very-blended protein shake out of his blender. “I’ll try to look some stuff up this afternoon.”

“Isn’t your laptop still being screwy?”

“...Maybe.” It was more like Hinata’s ancient laptop had given a sudden death kneel--complete with hisses and the screen flashing--and Hinata was sorta scared he’d get electrocuted if he even touched it. “I’ll use my phone.”

“I could just buy you a laptop, you know,” Atsumu muttered. It wasn’t the first time; Hinata even knew his next line.

Hinata grinned. “That’s really sweet, Atsumu. Absolutely not, you’re already doing enough of the research anyway.”

“Shut up,” Atsumu grumbled. “I am not sweet, this is a trade. Your laptop’s a piece of crap, like actually the worst and I--like any normal human being--am doing my part in putting it out of its misery. Basic compassion right here.”

“But, I don’t need a new laptop,” Hinata insisted like he always did. “I’ve got my phone. That’ll work until I get a job.”

Which he was totally going to get. Soon, too. It was just a little harder than he thought when he didn’t really have a great grip on the language yet.

“Hinata, I’m begging you as a friend here, please don’t resort to selling your organs on the black market.”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “I would never do that. I need them for volleyball.”

“Is that seriously the only reason?”

“Think about how long surgery recovery would take,” Hinata teased. “I only have two years here.”

“I worry about you. Like fundamentally.”

Hinata tilted his head. “But what if I could get like super organs instead.”

“Like Terminator?”

“Yeah! I’m pretty sure I read a manga where that happened once.” He paused. “Oh my gosh, Atsumu, imagine how amazing volleyball would be with superpowers!”

“There’s no way the V.League would approve that.” Atsumu breathed in. “But, what if…”

“I’d get super speed,” Hinata broke in excitedly, “or maybe flying. Oh, or super strength! Imagine hitting a spike with super strength!”

“Awesome!” Atsumu’s voice was speeding up. “What if I had one of those specialty powers like super precision or something! It could get around so many blockers; Suna would be so pissed off! I could set the ball anywhere!”

Hinata huffed. “You already do that.”

Atsumu broke off, sounding pleased. “Really?”

“Of course,” Hinata said. “Hey, wait, how was practice? You got to meet the new libero, right?”

“Yeah, Inunaki--he’s pretty cool. He was mainly working with--” Atsumu cut off, “Fuck, Shou, I gotta tell you about this thing Barnes and I did!”

Atsumu started rambling--words choppy and quick as he got deeper into the retelling of practice in a way that had Hinata hanging off every word. In an abstract sense, Hinata knew that he himself was a people person; he’d always been good at making friends and deeply appreciated every single one he was able to hang onto.

He’d never had a friend like Atsumu.

-------

Shuffling the Deck

(Since it’s late, have an entire opening scene)

ooooooo- 30 Years Prior -ooooooo

Once there was a girl who grew up with her grandmother in a barely patched house, closed in by cliffs.

She was a quiet girl, a pretty face and delicate hands always kept clean despite the threadbare clothes that hung more like rags. The girl did not like to play with the other children which was fitting as they didn’t much like to play with her either.

Instead, she liked to read.

And, more than that, she liked to watch the garden.

Which is what she chose to do, one day at eight years old on the same morning a prominent merchant staggered in to see her grandmother--a terrible illness spreading through his veins and blood in his cough.

The girl was fine with blood but didn’t care for coughing so she stayed exactly where she was, laying on her stomach with head propped in hands while she took in the delicate threads of a spider web.

She always thought the webs were the prettiest part of the garden. They were so very thin and frail that one could barely notice them until they got up close. And, then, once they saw them, they could see the patterns and shapes so carefully woven as if by an artisan.

Sometimes, she even saw the spider.

Sometimes, she tried to get it to crawl to her hand.

It never did though. No matter what she did. The spider was too cautious, too scared of what it believed had power over it.

That was how spiders worked, really. They spun their masterpieces with so much care and precision and, then, they waited patiently for the art to be observed.

The girl was not the only one who found the spider web this morning.

A fly had come across the threads first--likely by accident but the girl liked to imagine that it was the beauty that had drawn the fly in the same as it had done her.

She wondered if the fly still appreciated the art of the web.

It was still alive.

She watched it struggle. Its wings beat uselessly, its many legs trapped in the delicate threads, and a buzzing cry sounding so frantic for such a small creature.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

But, that would mean tearing down the gorgeous web that she adored.

But, that would mean the spider may starve and there would be no new web tomorrow.

And, besides, why did she care about dirtying her hands for the sake of a dying fly.

The door of the cottage opened and the girl glanced up idly.

The merchant was stumbling out, gratitude and lavish promises on his breath and a healthy glow back in his cheeks. Her grandmother was smiling kindly, accepting the praise yet turning down the offers same as she always did until eventually the merchant went away.

The girl looked back to the web.

The fly was dead, quickly being wrapped up by the spider to save for later.

She turned back to her grandmother. “He was rich, you know? I heard the other kids talking about him in town. His shipping business goes all the way up to the wealthy islands in the north. If you let him do even half the things he offered, we could live in a mansion and you wouldn’t have to hurt your fingers so much mending clothes.” The tone wasn’t accusing, merely curious. “Why did you say no?”

“Oh, my dear,” Her grandmother leaned down to kiss her hair and the girl allowed it, “because our powers are a gift. They’re not meant to be hoarded and offered for a price. They’re meant to be shared. Besides,” the woman sighed as she watched the road, “what kind of price would that be? Who would I be to demand it? Those who are desperate--for their lives, for those they love--would pay anything. They’d do anything. Who could ever put a price on such a weight? It’s beyond human measure.”

She smiled down at her granddaughter. “Do you understand, my darling Mimi?”

Maemi frowned before nodding, looking down at the spider web.

“Yes, I understand.”

There was no way to know what would have happened if the old woman took up the merchant’s offer. Likely she never would have. She was not that type of person. All that there was to know is that the grandmother and the little girl remained at the patched up cottage, just like they had the girl’s whole life and her grandmother’s life before hers.

They were there six months later when the oceans swelled and brought the waves into shore.

They were not both there after.

Six months later, a man and a girl waded through water as they searched a broken down cottage for survivors.

Well, the man searched at least.

The girl had stopped beside a tree, tall and strong enough to survive a tsunami.

On the bottom branch, at the lowest hanging twig, was a spider’s web just barely managing not to be swept into the water.

The spider was still alive.

But, it wouldn’t be for long.

It struggled, trying to climb up faster even as the bottom of its beautiful web was destroyed by the current.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

So, she did.

She snapped a twig from another branch and held it out for the spider to crawl, too. It did willingly, anything to avoid the water below.

It had never crawled to her hand before.

Not like it did now when it was desperate for life.

Maemi watched her dear spider crawl into her open hand.

And, then, she plunged her hand into the water and watched her dear spider drown.

“Yes, grandmother, I understand completely.”

#hq at hogwarts #atfo #cards #walking with my eyes open #call me your home at night #shuffling the deck #triwizard tournament #hq #dcst #dc #atsuhina #wow #okay i think i'm finally done with tags

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tinamaetales · 4 years ago

Text

Fine, not fine

When the pandemic broke out in 2020, I was left with nothing to do. Our WFH arrangement during those times is not something I consider as a heavy workload so most of the time I just find myself alone with my own thoughts – which is one of the scariest scenarios for me. To kill time and distract myself from my own self-destructive thoughts, I decided to watch documentaries on Youtube but there really isn’t enough for me so despite not having a huge salary, I decided to subscribe to Netflix and from then on, I was able to watch a lot of movies, series and documentaries. I really wanna write a reflection on each of the stuff I’ve watched but I’m too lazy these days (and yet, here I am writing one).

As I mentioned, I watched a lot of stuff on Netflix but the last three that I’ve watched lately (before I start being invested with American Horror Story series), Angel’s Last Mission: Love, The Good Place, and Mystic Pop-up Bar tend to have a common theme – life, death, afterlife. I didn’t even do it on purpose; I was just really interested in the plot of their stories. What these 3 shows have in common is that they discuss about the morality and consequences and these days, I’m really interested in those topics. Lately, I’ve been questioning myself about what kind of person I am – am I good or bad? I also keep on having an internal debate with myself as to whether or not there is an afterlife and if there is, then where will I end up? Heaven or hell? Those questions are kinda giving me some headache these days but at least it’s a good distraction from my own self-destructive thoughts. Somehow, Philosophy seems interesting to me now (during my College years, I dreaded that subject but still managed to get a 1.25 final grade lol). Anyway, here are my thoughts about the shows:

Angel’s Last Mission: Love

Major lesson: Keep the faith

This kdrama has such a beautiful way of presenting its story that you will fall in love with it in just the first episode! (Also because Kim Myung Soo’s dimples are to die for, omg I’m so in love) Anyway, this drama’s plot is interesting: an angel who disobeyed the law (he’s not allowed to meddle with the lives of humans especially since he’s a guardian angel for animals) on his last day was given the most difficult mission – to make the fallen ballerina know what love is. As I am writing this, I can’t help but feel emotional because the show knows how to attack one’s heart. I will not be telling more of its plot for I might end up spoiling it so I’ll just provide my major take away from this kdrama. (This is one of those kdramas that I can watch again and again coz it’s beautiful)

I was raised in Catholic faith, which is really not a surprise for a Filipino like me since this country is heavily influenced by the Catholic Church, but ever since I’ve become an adult and finally opened my eyes and allow myself to stop living under the notorious gaslighting of people around me, I struggled with my faith in God. It’s really difficult living a traumatized life. In 2018, I seek for professional help and was diagnosed with Dysthymia and Social Anxiety Disorder. And despite therapy and medication, I have not yet healed and sometimes feel like my situation is getting worse. As such, I felt so alone in my struggles which became the reason why I relate to Yeon Seo’s character. People labeled her as a cold bitch and most of them are expecting her to just move on and heal without fully understanding where she is coming from. When Yeon Seo said “Do you know what it feels like to be left behind? It feels like I’m abandoned alone in an endless desert” it hit close to home. I know that one’s pain should not be an excuse for acting up and being mean but people should also understand that healing is different for all of us – we heal at our own pace at our own time. Pain can change a person – I know it fully well for I’ve become a completely different person because of all the pain I’ve been through. But what this show taught me is that God is a merciful God and He will not let us be drown into the abyss of darkness…..somehow, He will make a way to get us back on track and sometimes it’s in ways we never imagined it to be. Like how they sent angel Kim Dan into Yeon Seo’s life, God will also be sending us the answer to our prayers for He loves us and He is the only one who will never give up on us – even though we gave up on ourselves.

The Good Place

Major lesson: There is hope for humanity

I’ve been obsessed with sitcoms since 2019 (if I remember the year correctly) for they’re easy to watch and just fun but I never expected that a sitcom will make me become philosophical and somehow question my own morality: am I a good person?

For a show with only four seasons and fifty-three episodes, The Good Place sets the bar high for a sitcom. It did not drag its plotline but is able to tell the entire story in a way that leaves the viewers satisfied with it. The Good Place is a story *SPOILER ALERT* that revolves around the afterlife lives of the four main characters: Eleanor, Chidi, Tahani, and Jason who all end up in the “good place” because they earned enough points on Earth but there’s a catch, two of them are not actually meant to be in the good place. Eleanor and Jason both mistakenly went to the good place because they died at almost the same time as someone with the same name as them but the other two actually deserved to be in the good place. The dilemma started when Eleanor admitted the truth to Chidi, a Philosophy professor who specialized in Ethics for he is torn between helping them or snitching on them. But perhaps the biggest plot twist of all, *SERIOUSLY STOP READING IF YOU DON’T WANT ANY MORE SPOILERS* they are not really in the good place. All four of them are in the Bad Place disguised as the good place and they were specifically chosen to torture each other, just like what Jean Paul Sartre said, “Hell is other people” Now this gets interesting because while none of these four people have committed heinous crimes which can then make them deserving of a spot in the bad place, the actions they’ve done during their lifetime on earth has bearing. At first I find it surprising how Chidi and Tahani end up in the bad place considering that Chidi spent his life in the pursuit of goodness and Tahani is a philanthropist who raised millions of dollars for charities. But then, as the show progressed, I understood. Chidi’s vast knowledge of morality made him become an indecisive person which led towards the suffering of others. Chidi made other people suffer because he finds it difficult to make a choice. On Tahani’s part, she raised millions of dollars to help improve the lives of others but such is a self-serving interest – she did not do those things because she wanted to help but because she wants to make herself look good. On Eleanor’s part, while she did not commit serious crimes, she was a big ass jerk towards others during her time on earth. With Jason, although he is kind, his actions often lead to disasters and although unintentional, harm towards others. With these in mind, I guess it’s safe to say that humans are doomed for the things we do are most of the time self-serving. It’s hard to make it to the Good Place because in one way or another, we do some things that affect others in a negative way. But what this show also taught me is that while it’s true that hell is other people……humans have a chance to improve and be better when given the proper environment as well as when they help each other out. Just like what Michael said “The point is, people improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don’t?”

At first, this show kind of made me realized that I’ve been a bad person….that most of the decisions I’ve made in life are self-serving….I only do things that benefit me and I could not care less about other people but my biggest realization here is that, I acted this way because my unhealed pain and trauma is manifesting itself. I have been hurt way too much that it made me become a bad person and end up with the mantra that life is shitty anyway so why try to be good? And because of that, I felt bad. Now, I try my best to do good things, not because I want to feel good for myself but because it’s the right thing to do. I have come to the realization that just because I was hurt does not mean I have the right to inflict pain on others. I know that morality is not something that can easily be answered since it’s such a complex thing and humans are flawed but as what Michael said (he has a lot of great lines from the show, I can’t help but to keep on quoting him) “What matters isn’t if people are good or bad. What matters is, if they’re trying to be better today than they were yesterday. You asked me where my hope comes from? That’s my answer.” Please, please, please watch The Good Place! I guess it’s one of the best, if not the best, sitcoms ever.

Mystic Pop-up Bar

Major lesson: Grudges are the heaviest to carry/ the art of letting go

One word to describe this k-drama? HEARTWARMING. With only 12 episodes, this k-drama was able to provide me comfort and healing. I did not actually expect much from this as I only watched it because of Yook Sungjae but what I failed to realize is that this kdrama’s approach to storytelling will be heartwarming. The plot is pretty simple for a fantasy drama: a woman, Weol-ju, runs a pop-up bar in order to fulfill her mission of settling the grudges of 100,000 people but as the years went by, it became difficult for her to have people to open up. When people fail to open up about the grudges they are holding, then it will be difficult for her to help them in solving their problems. And since it is taking her way too long to finish her mission, she was given an ultimatum of having to finish her mission within a month – good thing is she found two people to help her with the case: the afterlife police agent Gwi and the human with special ability of making people open up to him just by having a slight physical contact with them, Kang Bae. I love the way these three main characters complemented each other and I sometimes wish that I was given the chance to be a customer at the Mystic Pop-up Bar not just to have them help me solve my grudges but because sometimes, all we need is people who will listen to us.

As mentioned, Weol-ju’s mission is to help people settle the grudges they are carrying and she makes it happen by having people go inside her pop-up bar, let them tell their stories to her and then she will eventually offer them a special drink (which she disguises as an alcohol) that will make them fall asleep so she can enter the dream world and do her work in settling the grudge. While watching this drama, I can’t help but wonder: why do people drink when they have problems? For someone who never drinks and is not interested in drinking, I’ve always been curious of it. They said that alcohol tastes bitter, so I don’t understand why it seems to be helping people in dealing with their problems? Some say that by drinking, it helps them escape their reality for a while. I did some research about this topic and according to Origins Recovery, alcohol contains anxiolytic properties which means that it helps in inhibiting stress or anxiety. As for the bitterness, I heard from someone that as time passes by, the bitterness become sweet unlike life itself in which as time passes by, it becomes more overwhelming. I guess drinking really helps people to take a pause from the absurdity of life despite its bitterness as well as the headache that follows after drinking. Moreover, who am I to judge people who rely on drinking when their life becomes a mess when I also have my own ways, sometimes self-destructive, of finding an escape from this horrible world that we live in? After all, when life gets too tough, we all just want an escape – even though it’s temporary.

With every episode, Weol-ju and her squad helped people settle their grudges and each time they do, it makes me feel emotional. This show makes me realized that all of us are carrying grudges we don’t talk about and when we do not have the avenue to vent it out, then it eats us up alive. All of us are no stranger to struggles, but it is important to be strong and courageous. We can choose to struggle alone but asking for help does not mean you are weak.

Let me end this blogpost by putting my favorite line from Weol-ju: “No matter what’s making you suffer right now, things will settle and pass eventually. Hang in there until then, and you’ll find yourself stronger”

TinaMae

#personal #tinamae tales #kdrama #k-drama #k drama #netflix #angel last mission love #l infinite #kim myung soo #mystic pop up bar #sungjae #the good place #kristen bell

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recurring-polynya · 4 years ago

Note

Do we have a Byakuya giving Renji marriage advice fic? I'd love to read one!

I know this is gonna seem like I can’t read the prompt, because it’s 95% Byakuya giving Rukia marriage advice, but I just honestly think Byakuya trusts Renji on this, given that Renji has worked for him for years at this point and just sort of anticipates all his needs and understands him better than really anyone, and also, Byakuya does not understand Renji at all and has no idea how his dumb jock brain works. He knows exactly how Rukia’s brain works, though.

Anyway, I am back on my Byakuya-writing-letters bullshit, please enjoy some Sunday afternoon feels. I think it should be obvious, but this takes place the night after Rukia and Renji’s wedding.

❤️ 🥂 🎊

It was late at night, but Rukia couldn’t sleep. Too much excitement, maybe, the unfamiliarity of a new house, the evening’s pleasant alcoholic haze fading into the beginnings of a hangover. It certainly couldn’t be the idea of a new life entirely, looming in front of her like an iceberg, complete with a new name and all sorts of new possibilities. Primarily, there was a new bed and a new person who slept in it with her, and she found the idea of waking him up terrifying, so she slipped out from under the blankets and crept downstairs.

She was digging around in the kitchen, wondering if Renji had gotten around to making any pickles since he moved in a month ago (there was an entire cabinet full, wonderful man!), when she remembered the note.

Rukia had briefly flipped through the envelopes of wedding money they had received earlier. The one from her brother bulged, and when she opened it up, the bills inside were large. Renji got nervous in the presence of large sums of money and she suspected he would attempt to give it back, so put it away quickly to deal with later, but not before she noticed a sheet of paper tucked inside among the bills. It had only her name on it, in her brother’s finest handwriting.

After retrieving the note, she settled on the couch (which had been Renji’s but was now theirs because that’s how this worked) with the jar of pickles tucked beside her (the pickles were hers because they were the spicy kind Renji made specially for her even though he couldn’t eat them himself).

My beloved sister, the note opened.

It is my impression that one of the important roles of an older brother is to go before one’s younger siblings, to chart the unknown terrain of life, and to act as guide and mentor. My own marriage was characterized by deep love and joy in the face of hardship, and I hope that yours will contain all of its happiness and none of its heartache. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you, I have no idea how I did it.

When our lots were first cast together, as you know, I declined to form a close relationship with you. This was a mistake on my part, born of the fear that you would remind me too much of Hisana. Later on, to my horror, I found the truth to be far worse-- although you do share some of your sister’s fine qualities, in personality, you bear a much greater resemblance to myself.

That being the case, I imagine that by the time you find this note, you will have tied yourself up into knots over whether or not you ‘deserve this’ or if you can ever be a satisfactory partner. We are very fine Kuchiki, you and I, Rukia. We are strong of body and of will. We are dignified in all we do. We devote ourselves to our duties before our else. Our hearts are strong and love strongly, but we hold them close, as we must. Our family is our pride, which, paradoxically, makes it nearly impossible to share ourselves with those we hold closest.

Your sister Hisana was an exceedingly stubborn person, who formed her own opinions of me, which may or may not have had any grounding in reality. She frequently told me that I was ‘kind’ and ‘thoughtful’ and ‘sweet’ and a variety of other adjectives that no other thinking person would dare to apply to me. It is very difficult to live with such a person for long before you find yourself trying to live up to their misguided delusions.

As it happens, this is among the distressing number of personality traits my adjutant shares with my late wife. His optimism is endless, his vision is permanently rose-tinted, even when he insists upon wearing those horrendous goggles. Any yet, time and again, I have seen him bring out the best qualities in the horrible ne’er-do-wells under our mutual command. Indeed, if I have ever been a good brother to you, it is mostly due to his belief that I could be so. It is a verifiable fact that you are one of the best best souls in all of Soul Society, one would think it would be unimaginable to inflate your worth beyond its actual measure, and yet, somewhere, he manages that, as well.

How is one supposed to live up to these sorts of expectations from the person they love most of all? It is impossible. At least in my case, Hisana was quite aware that I am a pompous buffoon, whereas Abarai fully believes the sun rises and sets for your personal benefit. I am going to tell you something that may be difficult to hear: you have to simply deal with it. He is never going to stop. If you are truly as like to me as I suspect, you will rebel against this, your brain constantly trying to sabotage your happiness.

The fact of the matter is, Rukia, these feelings of inadequacy spring from the very fact that you hold him so dearly that your own estimation of him is also blown out of proportion. Do not misinterpret me. I am very fond of Abarai, but he is a mess. A disaster. You have probably never seen his filing system, but it would give you the vapors. (I do suggest that you take responsibility over that aspect of your household management.) Again, I sympathize. He is actually not nearly so bad as your sister, whom I once watched deface a centerpiece at a very fancy benefit dinner (the end result was extremely offensive and also very humorous). In my mind, she is still the most perfect person I have ever met.

Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps you are plagued with none of the insecurities that troubled the early days of my marriage, and that I was only able to come to terms with once it became evident that our time together would be finite. I desperately hope this is the case, and if so, please do me the courtesy of destroying this letter, and forgetting all of this.

In either case, I wish you the utmost happiness with your horrible husband.

Your affectionate brother,

Byakuya

Rukia’s fingers clenched on the edges of the paper. The edges of her eyes were burning. How dare he do this to her, after all these years? How many times had they crossed paths in the gardens in the hours when they should have been sleeping? Since when did they need to say things in order to show how well they understood each other? Rukia had half a mind to march over there right now and punch him in his perfect face. He was most likely sitting out next to the koi pond this very minute.

“Thinkin’ of skippin’ out on me already?” a sleepy voice asked behind her, and Rukia jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“What? No!” Rukia rubbed at her hair and frowned apologetically at Renji, who seemed more interested in yawning. "I was thinking too loud and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Nah, my skull is too thick, I can’t even hear my own thoughts most of the time.” Renji leaned over the back of the couch, and Rukia guiltily folded her note in half. “Letter from Captain?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rukia excused. “Sorry. It was kinda personal.”

“I understand. I got one, too. It was less personal.”

A piece of paper dropped in her lap and as she was busy unfolded it, Renji grabbed her jar of pickles.

“Hey, that’s mine!” she protested.

“You don’t gotta tell me what your brother wrote to you,” Renji yawned, tucking the pickles under his arm. “But I think you should probably listen to him. He knows what’s he’s on about.”

Rukia looked at the piece of Squad Six letterhead in her hands. In precise, businesslike handwriting, it read:

To: Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain, Sixth Division

From: Kuchiki Byakuya, Captain Sixth Division

Re: My sister/Your pending wife

Lieutenant Abarai,

Please be aware that Rukia is prone to poor decisions when she has insomnia and it is in your best interest to prevent her from consuming excessively spicy and/or vinegared goods past a respectable bedtime.

Sincerely,

Captain Kuchiki

“Rat fink!” Rukia exclaimed.

“Come back to bed,” Renji implored, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I know some good ways to make your brain shut up.”

“Okay,” Rukia agreed grumpily. “I’m eating those pickles for breakfast, though.”

“I’m makin’ pancakes, but suit yourself.”

Rukia decided that maybe it was best to try and get some rest. She had a big rest-of-her-life coming up the next day.

#my writing #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #renruki #byakuya feels are the worst feels #but pining-for-his-dead-wife byakuya is the best byakuya #the paradox of byakuya

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resplendentgoldenwings · 4 years ago

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The Hope That is You II

So I’ve been meaning to do a longer post about the series finale of Disco but honestly I’ve just really been sort of absorbing it and the two previous episodes these last few weeks. Anyway here are my thoughts.

I haven’t seen much talk about the actions sequences (and yes I know Star Trek isn’t about fight scenes and shit but sometimes it is). Man I loved that shit, ok. Sonequa is a great physical actor and Michael is obviously a very physical person. That whole turbo lift scene was just blew my mind. Like grrrl what is you doin’? I love that Michael is just that fucking brave and bold and physical and terrifying and just out here kickin’ ass and takin’ names. There have certainly been better action scenes and fight scenes in shows but the intensity of that one- I loved it!

Watching her and Book handle Zareh and Ossrya was like yessss! Queen. From “Up here you sonofabitch!” to “No win scenarios, I don’t believe in those.” I was one super happy fangir!

After There is a Tide, I kinda wanted Ossyra to live and hang around for a while. I felt like the episode added some interesting depth to the character, especially since she was being somewhat honest and perhaps genuinely willing to be not horrible. Then Wednesday happened and we still have leaders quibbling about whether or not a certain megalomaniac should be impeached or put on trial because “maybe it’s divisive, maybe it’s not expedient and we need to heal” blah, blah, blah!

Meanwhile that ass-hole is still making threats and we’re gonna live with what he stirred up for a long time (truthfully I don’t think I’ll rest easily as long as he’s alive, the piece of shit) so it was nice to see a leader who knew and understood what needed to happen, and even nicer to see that tyrant get what the fuck she deserved in the end. It may not be the Star Trek we want but damn if it ain’t the Star Trek we fucking need.

It was also really great to see the crew working together, to learn more about Joann and have that moment of Michael and Sylvia’s friendship be so helpful. Also Joann and Kayla, a couple? Y/N

Book can fly the ship, woohooo!I know some people were a bit confused about the fact that Book could just fly it immediately but the way I understand it Stamets added the tardigrade DNA to his own and that allowed him to navigate the mycelial network itself. Book as an empath wouldn’t be able to navigate the network but the network is an intelligence of a sort that he could communicate with and ask for help. Like how he and his brother asked the locust to go somewhere else.

One moment that really stood out to me was when the crew reunited with Michael on the bridge and Tilly asks Michael to lead them, saying that they all wanted her to take charge. Tilly is radiating so much defeat here and while I was happy to see Michael taking charge I felt so bad for her.

First she never should have been put in that position and second while I think there were things she could have done differently in that moment it seems like even a more experienced officer would have lost the ship under those circumstance. I also caught Michael reacting to it and I hope Tilly’s now damaged confidence is revisited going into s4.

Speaking of Tilly not being ready for command who is Michael’s first officer going to be? I’ve seen two suggestions that I really like. Hugh Culber or Jett Reno.

Jett Reno is my fave suggestion because I think she would serve as a great counter balance. Michael is level headed but extremely passionate and her emotions run deep. Reno is super steady and I think Michael would benefit from a really, steady down to earth first officer. Unfortunately this won’t be happening Tig Notaro, the actress who plays Reno, doesn’t want to take on a full-time gig, damn it.

Hugh Culber has a similar steadiness but such warmth, compassion and patience that he would be a great support and sounding board for Captain Burnham. And we already have another doctor who takes charges in the sickbay and Dr. McCoy was 3rd in command on the Enterprise if Bones can do it than so can Culber.

These are my two favorite suggestions. Someone also suggested Owosekun which makes sense and it would give us the chance to get to know the character more. We could go with an outside hire which also makes sense. Discovery should have a liaison officer from the 32nd century. Sure they can look up information in the computer but having someone on hand who knows the places, the politics, the history would theoretically make things go more smoothly. Book can fill that role to an extent but they need someone who knows Starfleet’s current relationship with the rest of the universe first hand IMHO, so I’m all for an outside hire.

I’m just gonna say it Paul is a contentious ass-hole but honestly it’s also what we like about him. Difficult is what he brings to Discovery. And while we can empathize with Paul not wanting to lose Hugh a second time, especially since he’s been through it the first fucking time I hope with all my heart and soul that Michael doesn’t apologize to him or try to make things right. The decision she made to not go back for the away team was the right fucking decision. She’s captain now and this won’t be the last time she has to make a decision like that either.

What I’d prefer to see for s4 regarding Michael and Paul is that maybe he has an attitude with her for a bit but then Michael has to do something similar with Book (he survives ofc) but Paul actually thaws then. He’s thinking she’s gonna be a hypocrite and inflict things on her crew that she isn’t willing to inflict on herself. Basically he thinks she’s selfish rather than having grown but when that isn’t what happens he ends up being the first to want to reach out to her. Both to maybe comfort her if there is a time where Book’s status is unknown and offer an apology.

It’s not on the captain to make amends for being the captain, it’s the crew to live with it or leave.

I know this post is like super long already. I wanted to add some stuff about Su’kal and Saru but that’s honestly a whole other post on its own so maybe later. Right now just really looking forward to s4 and finally see Captain Michael Burnham, let’s fly.

#Star Trek Discovery #Captain Michael Burnham #Ensign Tilly #Lt. Owosekun #Cleveland Booker #Burnham/Book

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lizacstuff · 4 years ago

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Edser/SCK anon asks (36 spec)

I accidentally deleted an ask that was interesting, if you don’t see yours here, resend it!

(Asks below the cut)

Anonymous said: Do you think that scene of Eda confronting Selin about it is the end of the episode? I'm so drained, Liza. When will this suffering end?

Oh honey, we have SUFFERED. We have. No doubt about it, but I’ll talk more about that in a minute. (We can overcome)

First the fragman, could it be the end of the episode? I suppose so. It’s no fun thinking that it might be the cliffhanger and we have to live with that for 11 days instead of 4, but here’s the interesting thing, according to people who look closely at these things, the outfit Eda was wearing when confronting Selin, Hande was wearing that today while filming at Art Life. We also know that at Art Life the set was dressed for some sort of party or event. An event that had the word ‘love’ on the table. So which comes first? The confrontation with Selin or the Art Life scenes that do not include Deniz or Selin?? I don’t know. The other wild card factor is Bige’s availability. I’m sure most people have heard by now that, sadly, her father passed away this week. This show does not work on a timeline where they can wait. So they might have had to write her out of a few scenes already in this episode, and it’s unknown what her availability will be for next episode. That could end up changing things a bit, so we’ll see. Maybe there will be a second fragman that gives us more context.

Now back to feeling drained by this storyline. I get you. I feel you. But here’s how you shake if off. Boil it down for yourself. Why do you continue to watch this show? I’m going to guess it’s for the same reason I continue to watch this show. Edser. Eda and Serkan are still magic together in every single scene, and Hande and Kerem’s chemistry can turn even the most turgid, ill-advised story or scene into gold. They are worth watching whether they are looking into each other’s eyes or reading the phone book.

So... my advice is to emotionally distance yourself from the plot. The plot is just the device to keep these two actors on screen together playing these two characters. And that sentence is truer for this show than for any other show I’ve ever watched (and I’ve watched A LOT of shows.) It’s all about these two characters and these two actors. So ultimately the plot doesn’t matter. Let the plot go. There is nothing to worry about, Edser is endgame, Edser is the reason this show exists, they are all the matters on this show. So knowing that, just enjoy their individual scenes, appreciate them for what they are and don’t tie yourself into knots over the nonsense these hack writers throw at us. It will all be fine in the end.

Anonymous said: I kinda find it funny that what Erdem suggested turned out to be the way Serkan got his memory back. It was a scene fit for a romcom. Obviously it wasn't how I pictured him to remember but at this point I'll take it. Lol! Erdem should be a fortune teller or something!

You’re right. Erdem was on the right track. It would have been funnier if Erdem had hit him to get his memory back and once it worked, then Engin could have held Serkan down, while Erdem continued to bonk him in the head to bring back more memories.

Anonymous said: i totally feel the mixed feelings with the fragman, but it seems like its an ep with great edser moments where they're together and trying to solve this problem, at the same time they just couldn't keep the drama out of the fragman this time?! at a time where everyone is relieved and positive for the first time in weeks?! just seems like a bad move by the production imo and i'm not even that concerned with the plot like others are. another anon said this, but there is def selin fatigue

Selin fatigue is real!!!! But to be honest I was in Selin fatigue by ep 29. And it’s just gotten worse episode by episode. (though we had a bit of a reprieve from her in 34-35) but the fragman brought the fatigue back with a vengeance. The producer has tweeted before about how the show has to have drama, so, I guess that’s where we are. Drama. They think this is what sells, I guess?

They produce those fragman’s with the Fox viewer in Turkey in mind. So perhaps that’s the kind of tease that works well there? I have no idea. Honestly, I think they’re not worried about online fans and international fans because they know we’re so invested that we won’t give up.

Anonymous said: Normally i would also calm down with the pregnancy thing, it’s probably selin’s last desperate attempt at keeping serkan BUT you know why it scares me? Because they’ll probably introduce the “Kemal is Serkan’s biological father” storyline and I hope that it’s not correlated to selin’s fake pregnancy...like, Serkan would never leave Eda but this Kemal thing will probably remind him how he never had a real father growing up so i hope this doesn’t push him to be by Selin’s side. However, it’s also true that I really don’t think that he and Selin had s*x so I also don’t think they can follow this path. I’m so confused I think we just need to wait and see haha

Yes, we need to wait and see. I see no reason to go down this speculation path unless we’re forced to, because it seems very unlikely to me. Clear it from your mind, and then, if the worst happens, we’ll deal with it then, not now.

Anonymous said: Idk if u follow sck news on twitter but they posted pics/vids from set today in the office and it looks like a party with food and a sign that says “better together”. Someone commented a theory that serkan will orchestrate a surprise engagement party for eda while she talks to Selin and the ep will end with her turning down the proposal bc Selin is “pregnant” and then we have to wait for the next ep for serkan to tell her it’s not possible 🤡🤡 what do u think?

Yep, I follow sck news, who doesn’t? ;) I think this speculation is plausible, and as long as she’s upfront with Serkan about why and Serkan is able to shut it down immediately next ep, then I can live with this as a cliffhanger.

Anonymous said: Part 1. You mentioned in a previous ask how Engin didn't tell Eda that Serkan remembered everything when he made it in time for the wedding. Honestly his lack of action was not surprising, upsetting or disappointing. That's just who Engin is. He's a talker, not a doer. Engin is Serkan's friend similar to how Ceren and Fifi are Eda's friends (I'm talking pre amnesia plot). They care about their friend's happiness. Engin has always talked reason to Serkan especially about his feelings for Eda.

Part 2. But Engin's reason for doing that is Serkan's happiness. Of course he wants Eda's happiness but mostly only because it's tied to Serkan's happiness. He has stood up for Eda before like when Serkan accused her of working with Kaan or when he said she deserves to know the truth about her parents death, but whatever Serkan says goes. He never acts in opposition to him. So if Serkan says he won't stop the wedding, Engin isn't going to do anything despite believing Eda should know the truth.

Here’s the problem with this, it’s not just him not caring about Eda. It’s him not caring about Serkan. He should have done it for Serkan, knowing that Serkan would regret his inaction the rest of his life. It costs him nothing to tell Eda at that moment and let her make the decision.

That’s one of my biggest problems with this cockamamie plot. From the first Fragman of 29, I said it was impossible that Selin could have hidden him away and rekindled her relationship with him because the other character wouldn’t allow it. Oh but they did. This storyline ruined pretty much every single supporting character, (outside of Melo) because otherwise, if they would have acted in-character or even like normal humans, it never would have worked. And that continued all the way up to this stupid fake/real wedding. Writers... if you have to ruin every supporting character to bend and twist and make it so your antagonist isn’t immediately jailed or carted away to a mental hospital, that is a sign that it doesn’t work and you need to go back to the drawing board.

Anonymous said: I have to say, they really do well with the casting on SCK. Especially when they want actors who look like they are related. Eda and her grandmother looked like they were related. It was great casting. Now Serkan and the new character look like they could be related. They have similar features. If the point is for us to speculate that they are father and son, I think they did a good job.

Yes, they really do. I’ve also always thought that Neslihan looks like she could be Kerem’s mother, they have the same coloring. Evrim looks like she could be related to Hande. They have done a great job with that.

Anonymous said: That fragman for ep 36...part of me wants to hope that it will all be solved pretty soon, since we got edser separated for so long we deserved them together now. But part of me also knows these writers suck so I’m expecting the worst. I just wanted edser together again 😭

You and me both, babe. You and me both.

In the meantime, lets remember to enjoy this show while it lasts. And if we can’t enjoy the plot, as I said above, let’s think about the things we can enjoy. So if in this episode there are a dozen great Edser scenes and then one that rips out our hearts... let’s concentrate on the dozen, okay? The one that rips out our hearts will resolve itself soon enough.

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal Kapimi #Edser #sck speculation #sck 1x36 #sck discussion #sckask #asklizac #anonymous

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